Jon
JON HATED THE way the winter sun didn’t rise until later in the morning. Because leaving Molly in the dark took much more out of him than he’d expected. He knew it was going to be hard; getting up out of bed in general was difficult for him, but this was different. She was sleeping, sprawled out across his mattress, her hair brighter against the white of his pillow. He loved the way she looked there; so much that he wanted to join her again.
But he forced himself away to pack; grabbed the laundry he’d retrieved before he’d gone to get her, his plastic bag of shower stuff and his suitcase. He shoved the clothes in his suitcase, his shower stuff in his backpack, along with the files he needed and the chargers he’d left lined up on his card table.
Once again he passed the middle of his living room, and the futon he’d placed there for all the word to see. His eyes, of course, drifted toward Molly. He couldn’t help but stare; she was like a siren, calling him back to bed with her. He wanted to take a picture; he’d never been happier than he was at that moment.
Yet instead of taking a picture, which would remind him of how horrible his place looked, he headed into the kitchen. It would be cruel to wake her when she looked that comfortable; he figured at least one of them should get some use out of his horrible futon.
He moved as quietly as possible, reaching for a piece of paper from the pad where he wrote his to-do list. He needed to write her a note, explaining why he’d left her and what she should do now that he had. Then, after drawing a diagram to show where his nondairy creamer was (in the one cabinet with the annoyingly squeaky door), he set up the coffee.
Once that was done, he watched her again, waiting until the phone in his pocket buzzed, heralding the arrival of his town car. And as the seconds passed, he realized that he didn’t want to leave. The realization surprised him. Until this moment his relatively short career had been amazing. It regularly reminded him of the wonderful music that existed in Jewish communities across the country, and made him feel even better that he got to help bring some great voices to a much wider audience. But this time?
He wasn’t sure what was at the root of it. Could it be concern that the sour experience he’d had on his last trip was going to carry over into this one? This was Nashville. This was looking at a second set of offices, not convincing someone who’d been an independent artist for years to sign to a label they didn’t trust. Nashville wasn’t going to be a situation where he’d be called a traitor for working with a label. He’d be going to services at a beautiful temple and listening to musicians who lived in a town where major label interest in Jewish music meant something. This would be good, a fun trip, with good food, great company, and better music.
So if he were being honest with himself, he would admit the lack of desire to travel had more to do with the redhead sleeping on his futon than any actual travel anxiety. No, he wouldn’t damn his dreams. And as he finished packing his suitcase, closing it, he realized that he’d give almost anything to have another ticket and a seat on the plane beside him.
Molly
MOLLY STRETCHED, ROLLED over, and realized she was alone. She sat up with a start and looked around the almost empty apartment. There was no sign that anybody else was there. Looking closer, she didn’t see either the suitcase that had been left by the hall closet or the pile of clothing she’d seen on one of the folding chairs. That could only mean one thing.
Jon had left her alone in his apartment
She took a deep breath.
Even though she lived only a floor away, Jon let her sleep as he went off to catch his early morning flight. She could barely believe it; but it was true. A guy who hadn’t yet adjusted to living in the building had left her in his apartment alone.
She took another deep breath.
Holy crap.
She stretched again, wrapped the sheet around herself and rolled out of the bed. Then she held the sheet with one arm and grabbed her clothing with the other. Thankfully, the futon hadn’t done that much damage to her back.
Now that she’d managed to gather her belongings, she headed down the hall toward the bathroom, so she could at least splash some cold water on her face. The hall itself was clear, and she could see color and design and change.
No. He said he’d do it in the future. She was not going to turn his apartment into a home while he was gone.
She finished washing her face, dressed, and headed back into the kitchen. On the counter by his “coffee bar” was a note and a mug.
Molly-
Make your way upstairs when you want to. You were too beautiful to disturb.
I left you a mug, and I prepared the single cup coffeemaker. I think there’s nondairy creamer in one of the cupboards, but the door is squeaky so I didn’t check. Use as you will. . .
Looking forward to seeing you when I get back.
Heart,
Jon
It was, she decided, the cutest note anybody had ever left for her, especially considering the fact that he’d gone ahead and drawn the insides of his cupboard. Drawn the inside of his cupboard instead of opening it because the door was squeaky. He hearted her. And she was comfortable enough to say she hearted him back.
She set up the coffee, removed the creamer and the sweetener from the cupboard, and went to wait for it to brew. As the smell of coffee permeated the apartment, she tried to think of how she could do something as nice and as wonderful for him as he did for her.