4

Lee wasn’t so much sitting on Rachel’s doorstep as he was sitting on her neighbor’s plastic folding chair on their shared stoop. On the ground next to him rested a cardboard drink carrier holding two paper cups.

“Greetings.” Lee waved. “I texted Ann and got your address.”

“Why didn’t you text me?” Were they so dysfunctional now that they would communicate through intermediaries? Rachel’s insides clenched tight.

He gestured toward the coffees. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Surprise me?” Rachel stood still, staring down at him.

“Yes. Surprise you. Without scaring you to death this time.”

Enough was enough. Not caring whether he intended it as a joke or not, Rachel laughed.

Lee’s head lifted.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

“Yeah?” Lee didn’t quite smile, but he stopped looking as if he expected her to pull a lever and drop a piano on his head.

“Yeah. I need your help with something.”

He picked up the drinks and stood. She stepped around him and fitted her key into the lock. “I have a slight spider problem.”

Lee scratched his chin. “Is that a metaphor?”

“I wish.”

She hadn’t realized how tiny her entrance hall was until someone as large as Lee shared it with her. She hurried ahead of him into the apartment.

He ducked his head under the hanging light fixture just inside the door, took three steps, and found himself in the middle of the living area. “Well,” he said. “Isn’t this cozy.”

“It is a little small.”

“I didn’t know apartments came in fun size.” He didn’t even need to take another step to set the coffees on the pass-through to the kitchen. Upstairs, someone flushed a toilet. Lee cocked his head and listened as the whoosh faded to a trickle.

Rachel stepped around him and examined the drinks before pulling one out, removing the lid, and sniffing. “You don’t know how good this smells.” She sighed, stepping out of her shoes and rotating her stiff ankle in small circles. It popped loudly.

“So,” Lee rubbed his hands together. “Where’s this spider you want me to kill?”

“Spiders. Plural. And they could be anywhere, really.”

“So…this is a spider hunt.” Half question, half statement.

“They’re brown huntsmen, so they’re probably already hunting us.” Rachel carried her coffee to the loveseat and sat down. She propped her legs on the footstool and leaned her head against the cushion. “The shed where I stored my stuff all summer was full of them. I knew it was full of spiders at the time, but I didn’t have anywhere else to put everything, and I thought that maybe if I just taped up the boxes tightly enough, no spiders would get in them.” She sighed. “Apparently I was being naïve.”

Lee grunted as if her statement about being naïve had been a joke.

Perhaps it had been. Not for the first time, Rachel wondered if she really knew anything at all about life, herself, and everyone around her. For example, why was Lee actually here? Surely he had better things to do than supply her with afternoon coffee. When they had been working in the same building together every day, and he had been getting coffee for himself anyway, his coffee runs made sense. Now, Lee showing up on her doorstep with coffee seemed to carry weight.

You could always ask him. No. She couldn’t just ask him. Could she? “So what are you really doing here, Lee?” Apparently she could.

Lee turned from peering behind the TV and stood, his eyebrows bunching in a worried knot. “I don’t like that things are weird between us.” His arms hung at his sides, and he studied the wall next to him as if a spider might suddenly pop directly out of the drywall. “Whenever we fought before, I’d just bring you a coffee and pretend like it never happened. But now that I never see you, it’s a lot harder to make up.”

“We met for coffee last week,” Rachel reminded him, “but it didn’t take.”

“That’s because I was stupid and invited Sharon. I thought that having a third person there as a buffer would make it easier.” He snorted. “Worst idea ever.”

“Not necessarily.” Rachel said. “Sharon’s not that bad.”

Lee slanted her a look but said nothing. He seated himself on the floor next to the love seat and leaned forward to check underneath for spiders.

“I’ve been trying.” Rachel stared down at the top of his head. “To get along with Sharon, I mean. I figure I had better keep at it, especially if you’ve been hanging out with her all summer, and I’m likely to see her a lot more in the future.” This last bit was a shot in the dark.

“No spiders under the couch.” Lee stood. He peered behind the bookcases and flapped the curtains away from the window before stalking into the kitchen, where Rachel could hear the rhythmic opening and shutting of cabinet doors. “Why do you have so many mugs?”

“I like coffee.”

“You’re only one person,” Lee reminded her as he came back into the room, “living alone, I might add. You can only feasibly use so many mugs in a given day.”

“Now you sound like Ann.”

“You should just pick your favorites and get rid of the rest.”

“Picking a favorite mug is impossible. Much like picking a favorite student.”

“You know I’ll always be your favorite.” The words were right, but his tone lacked its customary lightness.

“You will be if you kill the spiders for me.”

Lee retrieved his coffee and sat on the floor in the middle of the room. Given the size of the room, it was one of the only places big enough to fit all of him, barring the open spot next to Rachel, a spot which he pointedly ignored. “I think you’re lying about the spiders,” he said.

“I would never lie about spiders. They’re just hiding because they know you’re not afraid of them.”

“What exactly do you think they’re going to do?”

“Jump on me.”

“And then what? You’re a billion times bigger than they are.” He frowned around at the room. “This layout stinks.”

“That’s what you said about my last place.”

“This one’s worse. I mean, what’s with that window?” Lee gestured to the one tiny window on the front wall. “It’s never going to get any direct sunlight, meaning that this place will be like a tomb pretty much all day.” He seemed to take it as a personal insult.

“I get enough sunshine during after-school car line.”

Lee removed the lid from his coffee and downed half of the contents in three giant gulps. “Did you pick a play yet?”

“Yes. It’s called Murder Came Knocking. It’s ridiculous.”

“I would expect nothing less. Text me the date so I can put it on the calendar.”

“About that…”

Lee raised a brow.

“I want to ask you something.”

Lee stood and stretched. He lobbed his empty coffee cup straight over the pass-through and into the kitchen trash can, where it bounced off the rim and dropped neatly inside. “I’m not doing it.”

“Lee, come on…”

“Doesn’t the school have a new art director?”

“I’ve never worked with her. And she hasn’t done scenery work before. I know this because I asked her, and she said that at her last school, they didn’t even have a drama program.”

“What kind of school doesn’t have a drama program?”

“I’m saying!” Rachel shook her head and took a sip of coffee.

“Rachel, I don’t work there anymore.”

“Hence my problem.”

“I have a full-time job. I don’t have time to build an entire set for you.” He pushed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“You don’t have to build the set,” Rachel told him. “Just design mockups and then come in after it’s mostly built and do the painting and detail work.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Rachel sat back against the love seat and crossed one leg over the other. “And we both know you have time. You work from home two days a week. And you’re bored. I can tell.”

“Oh, really?”

“Of course you’re bored. How hard can graphic design actually be? And besides, if you weren’t bored, why would you be bringing me coffee in the middle of the afternoon?”

Lee stared at her as if she’d just sprouted tentacles from the top of her head.

She cleared her throat. “There’s another reason why you should do the set for us. You’d get to see everybody. The kids miss you. Plus, you could see Sharon.” She meant the last bit to sound teasing, but she didn’t quite hit the right tone. The comment landed heavily between them. She plastered a blank smile on her face and raised her eyebrows at Lee as if waiting for his answer.

Lee stared at her for a long moment. “I’ll think about it.”

“OK,” Rachel chirped, determined to push them both past this weird emotional hurdle. She set her coffee on the floor and leaned to rummage through her bag until she’d found a copy of Murder Came Knocking. She extended it toward Lee. “Take this with you. See what you think.”

Lee expelled a long breath through his nose, but he took the playbook and rolled it into a tight cylinder before shoving it into his back pocket. “I guess your work here is done,” he said, not bothering to disguise the edge in his voice.

Rachel liked to play dumb when it suited her, but she’d also taught high school long enough to know when a direct confrontation could no longer be avoided. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It means nothing.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket. “I have to go.”

“Are we still fighting?”

“No.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, but she couldn’t stand leaving them stranded in emotional no-man’s land like this. Even a fight would be preferable to this strained awkwardness.

“There’s no problem.” Lee took three steps and paused at the door, looking back at her over his shoulder. “Make sure you lock the door behind me. Your next-door neighbor looks like a creep.”

At 10:00 PM, just as Rachel turned off her light, a text came through from Lee.

play looks good, set easy. mockups by wknd. not fighting.

~*~

Though Rachel had gone to bed bursting with the need to tell Ann or Lynn about Lee’s latest weirdness, she woke to a panic that drove all else from her mind. The first day back at early-morning workout, and she’d overslept her alarm. She pushed open the door to the studio at exactly 5:15 and groaned as the bright florescent light hit her eyes.

“You’re back!” Donovan boomed.

Ann paused stretching just long enough to tip her head back in a welcoming nod.

Rachel put up a hand to shield her eyes and executed the tiniest possible steps toward the mats.

“Quietly,” she murmured to Coach Donovan. “Quietly.”

“You’ve had all summer for quiet mornings. Now it’s time to work.” Donovan clapped his hands together and began hopping from one foot to the other, rolling his shoulders and practically cackling with anticipation. Rachel could have cried.

Work they did. Roundhouse kicks, lunges, burpees, and sit-ups followed each other in quick succession. Halfway through the hour, Rachel’s right ankle started to throb. She ignored it and soldiered on, determined not to let Coach Donovan and Ann label her a wuss on her first morning back.

But she knew that pushing through the pain was a bad call, and the rest of her day confirmed it. Throughout the first-period discussion of interpersonal dynamics in Much Ado about Nothing, Rachel had been able to ignore the throbbing pain shooting up her right leg. By third period, she could no longer avoid taking action. To her horror, her ankle had swollen to the size of an especially asymmetrical pear. Not this again.

Rachel snagged the next pimple-faced freshman to wander past her classroom door. “Go to the cafeteria and ask for a bag of ice,” she told him. “Tell them it’s for Miss Cooper. They’ll know what to do.”

The boy blinked at her. “Class starts in two minutes”

“Then you’d better hurry.”

~*~

Rachel delicately lowered herself into one of Lynn’s dining room chairs. “I knew it was too soon to go back to early-morning workouts.”

Lynn handed Rachel an ice pack and set a steaming mug in front of her. “Not necessarily. You walked three miles with me the other night, and you didn’t have any problems then, did you? Maybe you just twisted it wrong this morning.”

Rachel frowned and sipped her coffee.

Lynn smiled as she stirred cream into her own cup. She gestured toward Rachel’s outstretched leg. “This feels like old times.”

Rachel groaned, rested her elbow against the table, and propped her head against her hand. “Why is my life like this? Really. I mean it.”

“Your life is fine,” Lynn said. “You don’t have any problems that couldn’t be solved by managing your expectations and exercising a little flexibility.”

“Yes, exercising. That’s the problem,” Rachel protested, latching on to the only word that stood out to her. She pointed toward her puffy ankle. “Exercise is what got me into trouble in the first place.”

Lynn tutted. “I’m pretty sure skipping physical therapy is what got you into this particular trouble. That and a low calcium intake. You don’t drink enough milk.”

Rachel lifted her mug with one hand and framed it with the other. “Am I not drinking cream in my coffee right now?”

“Cream’s not milk.”

“Milk is gross.”

“So eat cheese.”

“Mmm.” Rachel sipped her coffee. “But you can only eat so much cheese.”

“A little cheese is better than no milk,” Lynn said sagely, making it sound like some obscure Asian proverb.

“I’m taking silica pills. Won’t those make my bones stronger?”

“Yes.” Lynn’s gaze sharpened. “Rachel, I’m impressed. I put silica pills in the nutritional suggestions in the bottom of your training sheet, but I didn’t think you’d read them, let alone follow any of them.”

Rachel didn’t have the heart to tell her that she had misplaced the sheet. She shrugged. “Lee gave them to me.”

“Ahh.” Lynn smiled over the rim of her mug. “Lee.”

“Stop.”

“Tell me everything.”

“They’re just nutritional supplements. He practically threw them at me.” This was a bit of an exaggeration, but it suited the emotional level of that day’s interaction with Lee. “He’s agreed to help design the set for the fall play.”

Lynn eyed her speculatively. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“What are you talking about? Of course it’s a good idea. Lee’s a genius. I didn’t know what I was going to do without him this year.”

“Rachel. Stop pretending you don’t know what I mean.”

Rachel set down her mug and turned it sideways, staring at the pattern on the side as she put her thoughts together.

Lynn drank her coffee in silence, letting Rachel work it through.

“You’re right,” Rachel said. “We’re still having problems. I don’t know how to get back to where we were before, and I don’t know how we’ll even try if we never see each other.”

“Are you sure you want things to go back to the way they were before?”

“Yes. I do.”

Lynn nodded. “If you’re sure, then that’s what I’ll pray for. But Rachel,” she leaned forward, “I’m also going to pray that God’s will be done, either way.”

On the drive home from Lynn’s, Rachel decided to call Ann. It had been a few days since the two had talked, and Rachel felt the need for a mental distraction.

No answer.

Before she went to bed that night, she sent a text: It’s weird not having someone here to talk sense into me when I start getting a little too Rachel-ish.

She expected that when she woke in the morning, some sort of sarcastic comeback would await her.

However, Ann sent no reply.