| |
It had been almost a week since Murph had offered up a hug. Stupidly offered a hug. She’d turned him down, of course, running straight for her apartment and sealing herself inside. He’d been too distracted by Trix’s visit and dinner to bother apologizing. Add to it, Trix gave him a hefty dose of guilt since she told him they’d made plans for dinner a week prior.
His fucking illness kept doing this to him, but the alternative...the medication made things worse. When he took the pills, they killed his creativity. No thoughts of painting, no thoughts of anything. His doctor said he always gave up too soon, but with the show coming up, the last eight months without the pills seemed to be doing him more favors.
And even with Aggie being out of sight, she never strayed far from his mind. He imagined her as the squeak of the floorboards sounded whenever she moved around. These thoughts fueled him into a third painting. This one of her moving in, the courage in her face as she unloaded her belongings in a strange place. The effort took balls, most definitely. He painted her like a conqueror, stepping into the unknown without fear.
He kept hoping to run into her, a brief encounter on the stairs, or at least, a reason to knock on her door, but no luck.
So, he’d resorted to cooking. Something he rarely did. The casserole was almost done, and Aggie would get home anytime. Hard to live below someone, even for a week, and not become accustomed to their daily schedule. He’d covered the paintings, cleaned up his kitchen and living room, and left the front door open, so the smell of ham and potato casserole wafted through the air. The screen door creaked, and he tossed the clean T-shirt back into the basket of laundry he’d started folding.
The security system beeped as she opened the front door and he watched her latch the bolt and press in the key code. Responsible, a word he had started to familiarize with Aggie. She stayed focused on things, distractions minimal in her world, so unlike his own.
She was punctual and methodical, keeping to a routine without breaking it, which was how he predicted her walk through the door at six at night versus seven or five. He bet she drove the same way home and scheduled in time to get gas or go to the store, as natural as a normal person.
“Welcome back.”
Aggie let out a yelp, jumped while turning, and put a hand to her heart, keys jingling. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“A girl needs a good jolt to her system every once in a while.” Her words were supposed to lessen the guilt, but the jumpy tone kept it firmly in his gut.
He summoned up his courage to ask the next question. “Can I pay you back with dinner?”
“I don’t want to put you through the trouble.” Aggie tucked her keys into her purse and started moving toward the stairs.
“It’d be no trouble. Dinner is already in the oven, and I made more than enough for two. I owe you a copy of the signed lease agreement, as well.”
She’d taped it to his door on Monday morning before she left for work. Another sign he’d somehow upset her. So, he’d made sure to get it signed, copies made, and even placed her copy in an envelope, neatly folded like the FedEx Kinko’s service clerk suggested.
“You made a copy.”
“I did.” He grinned at how he’d impressed her. The little things, his grandmother always believed, were the way to a woman’s heart. “We also need to discuss when you’re going to do the sittings.”
“Sittings?”
“The modeling for my paintings. It’s called a sitting versus modeling because typically the subjects sit for a few hours at a time.”
She looked away from him, glancing up the stairs at her door. Then a quick sigh before she said, “Give me ten minutes to change and I’ll be down. No promises on staying very long, though. I’ve got a couple of client files to review this evening for early morning appointments.”
He gripped the staircase railing, trying to hold in his excitement. The urge to jump, hoot, and fist pump the air was close to overwhelming him. “I understand, and I won’t force you to keep company with me longer than necessary.”
Why did he sound so dejected? The curse of being him.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Murph.”
“I know, and what I said came out a bit more angst-y than I intended. You’ve got clients who need you. The bipolar brain strikes again. Maybe I am a masochist after all.”
She reached out and touched his hand. The momentary contact nearly short-circuited his thought process, and he wondered if it’d be like this every time they experienced physical contact. “You’re a sweetheart, and you’re not punishing yourself, unless you count the long hours you keep painting. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The timer on the oven beeped, and he darted back into his apartment and to the stove. The only problem was the dinner had bubbled over. A complete mess littered the bottom of his stove and checking the temperature, the stove was set at four hundred and fifty degrees, instead of the normal three hundred and seventy-five.
He remembered putting it on the right temperature and everything. Now the dinner, his grandmother’s famous recipe, sat ruined—completely, utterly, burnt to a crisp.
Embarrassment racked his frame and he slumped in front of the oven, not even bothering to turn it off. In ten minutes, Aggie would, once again, be treated to his capacity for creating a disaster.
#
The doorbell rang as Aggie made her way downstairs. She keyed in the code to unlock the security system on the door and when she pulled back the heavy wood, Tricia stood on the stoop holding a pizza box.
“Oh, hi, Agatha.” She paused, leaning to the side as if looking for someone, which caused Aggie to look, too. No landlord and Tricia’s smile turned into a frown. “Seth and I got an extra pizza from the delivery service, eyes-bigger-than-our-stomachs type of thing. I figured you and Murph could enjoy it.”
“That’s super sweet of you.” And awfully suspicious since Murph made dinner already. It was in the oven and almost ready. “I’ll take it to him.”
“Appreciate that. I have to run back over and monitor the munchkin. He can get into stuff pretty quickly.” She pulled open the screen door and all but shoved the box of pizza into Aggie’s arms. “Have a good night.”
With those words, away she went, running back to her building. So, Aggie locked up again and headed toward Murph’s apartment. His door stood cracked open, and she heard a banging in the kitchen. The air hung heavy with the smell of burnt food, and the thought sent her dashing in without knocking.
Murphy banged his head, once, twice, and then a third time against a side cabinet. He sat slumped on the floor next to the stove. The burning smell was coming from the oven. She immediately slid the pizza onto the kitchen table and moved to turn the oven off.
“Where are your potholders?”
No answer, and a glance showed him completely side-tracked. He stared into space.
“Murphy!”
He blinked twice and then looked at her. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Potholders. Where are they?”
“Drawer next to the stove.” He pointed to her left.
She opened the suggested location and hoisted a pair of crocheted potholders, opened the oven door, and pulled out the burnt-topped casserole. A dinner, extra crispy. “Can you grab the door?”
Murph snapped to then, pushing himself to his feet and closing the oven door so she could step forward and set the pan on the stove top. “Is your dinner supposed to look like this?”
“No.” He sounded so forlorn and lost. “I ruined it by setting the oven temperature wrong.”
“It’s okay. Tricia brought us pizza.”
He glanced where she pointed to the box perched on the kitchen table, a now completely clean table. “Why’d she do that?”
“Said she ordered extra and they wouldn’t finish it all. So, dinner is not ruined. We were saved by the neighbor.” A very convenient save, but she’d keep the thought to herself. “Where are you hiding the plates?”
“I’ll get them.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You sit down and take it easy for a minute.” There were times everyone needed help and it seemed he did at the moment. The more he tried to take on, the more problematic things became, from what she’d experienced so far. As she looked around, it appeared he conquered the Herculean task of cleaning his kitchen and living room. Stuff looked near spotless, and she admired him for doing so much.
He did as she told him and sat at the kitchen table. “They are in the cabinet to the left of the sink.”
The room went silent with the exception of the clinking sound as she pulled two black glass plates from the cabinet. After setting the plates on the table, she placed one piece of pizza on each—how she always served herself with the proper portion. Then she took a seat across from him. Murph stared at the pizza, fingers steepled and resting against his chin.
“What’s wrong?” She could guess his answer, but the question still needed to be asked.
“I fucked up, again. Here I was, doing so well. Didn’t get lost in my work today, pulled together a dinner with real food, and even took care of paperwork. Then I burn the dinner.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Things happen. You can’t beat yourself up about them.”
“I bet shit like this doesn’t happen to you.” He bit into the pizza, then rose from the chair and moved toward the refrigerator. “Beer?”
“No, I’ll take some water, though.”
He reached in and pulled out a bottle of Against the Grain G’Night Ryder and a bottle of water. “Here you go. Amazing, I can do something right.”
“You’re really worried about what I think, aren’t you?”
Maybe he worried about how everyone perceived him, but lately, the focus had been directed toward her.
“And shit like the dinner doesn’t happen to me, but other things do. We all have our burdens.” As she waited for him to respond, she found herself not hungry.
No, her workday left her more tired than hungry, and she still felt uneasy in the new place. Thank goodness for Friday, she could spend time relaxing this weekend and getting comfortable in her space.
“Yes, I care about what you think. You’re my friend and a fairly new one. You only make first impressions once.”
She laughed. “You already made a first impression and a favorable one, evidenced by the fact I moved in here.”
“I hadn’t thought about it that way. Then I won’t scare you off?” He chugged a few swallows of beer and finished off his first slice while she contemplated his words.
Sure, he’d acted a bit off, but since he’d announced his diagnosis, it was easier to come to terms with some of his more extreme actions. She found herself fine with them, as long as he remained nonviolent. Yet, most of his negative actions were geared toward punishing himself.
“You’re not going to scare me off. If anything, I’m more determined to be a good friend. Good friends offer help, so if you need any, let me know.”
Smiling, he grabbed another piece of pizza from the box. “Thank you. I don’t get offers like that from other people.”
“I’m sorry your dinner got ruined.”
“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control.” He reached over and their fingers touched, a spark...heat bloomed between them and a flush crept up her face. Here she’d been trying so hard to keep her distance, to stay strong and keep space between them.
After meeting Tricia and the move—all a bit too much, too fast. She refused to do Murph an injustice by starting something, which would only end with both of them hurt, if her past track record continued.
She pulled back. “Force of habit, sorry. And I did it again. See? I have my own problems.”
“You think apologizing all the time is a problem?”
Had to be. At least, she’d figured her constant apologies as one of the reasons Jordan left. “It’s possible.”
“I don’t think so. What’s really a problem?”
A question she didn’t want to answer, but— “It’s going to sound crazy, but I’m unlovable.”
“I call bullshit.” Murph’s words came out clear, even with the bite of pizza in his mouth.
Aggie shook her head in defiance. “Nope, it’s true. People leave me. They may have all the good intentions of staying, but without fail, they leave. It certainly gives me the impression there is something wrong with me.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need examples if you expect me to believe this.”
“What do I get for dragging up these bad memories?”
“Best I can offer is a hug once it’s over.” No grin or cheesy smile accompanied his proposal, instead, he looked at her with interested eyes, ones that communicated the idea he was ready to listen to whatever she wanted to say.
At the moment, she figured a hug would make him feel as good as it would her, so she decided to take a risk. A risk for friendship, and strong women also helped their friends...at least, being strong meant facing your past. All in the name of making Murph feel better, which was the reason she’d go with. “Fine, I’ll take your offering.”