Subterfuge

Unexpected, Ch 2

         Morning brought the sound of Jezzy playing the part of my alarm clock. If this were some kind of play, she was doing a fantastic job. However, it isn't a play and I hate alarm clocks. I grab her muzzle weakly as I pull myself from the closet floor I had piled upon. She quiets to a whimper, wishing to lick my face but abstaining because she knows I don't like that sort of thing. The animal is either under the wrong impression that we have trespassers who are actually mid-morning joggers, or it's my mother. I was praying for joggers.
         As I clumsily made my way down the stairs, I could tell there was indeed a person by the door. Too tall to be my mother, I was more hopeful than ever about it being a neighbor out for a run. Why they were standing at my door evaded me, though. Perhaps they were here to complain about my unkempt yard or one of the many other Control Freak Committee rules I was breaking in the neighborhood.
         "I'm coming," I holler in my cracking morning voice as I continue consoling Jezzy, holding her collar as I open the door. No need to make things worse by having her jump on my probably already irritated neighbor.
         Once again I am quite surprised by what I see as the door opens. While it is not the middle aged, sweaty spandex clad jogger I expected, I'm still slightly embarrassed. "Good morning. May I come in?" Preston asks sweetly through his indisputable smile. "I brought breakfast. It's not much, but I wanted to make up for yesterday."
         Silently I step aside and watch him gracefully enter the room with his peace offering. The brown paper bag was full of bagels and donuts and spreads. It seemed a never ending assortment as he piled them onto a plate on my table. Quietly I felt relieved and thankful that my mother had finished her cleaning job yesterday after Preston left. Though still dead and cold, the house was at least clean. "Hello?" It took me a moment to realize he had been trying to get my attention. "I'm sorry, Pres. What did you say?" My attempt to be as polite as him felt flat in my mouth and heavy in the air. It did not work for me like it did for him.
         "I was wondering if you still liked cream cheese on your bagel?" He asked through his laugh lines and crows feet as they danced merrily on his pretty face. I never knew how the creases of age could make someone look better; but they did. It made me wonder for a moment why the cosmetics industry ever wanted to get rid of what gave ones face such character.
         I nodded, now making my way to the table and sitting. It occurred to me that silence was something I was far too comfortable with. I only knew how to argue with my mother or keep quiet. Conversation was lost to me. Not just small talk, mind you. The good stuff. The easy laughter that comes when you reconnect with a friend and start exchanging stories. Somehow, somewhere, I had lost the ability to do that. I didn't know where to begin. My hope was that Preston did, and while it wasn't his responsibility to make up for my idiocy; I still hoped he would.
         He was not one to disappoint, it seemed. As I picked at my bagel in an attempt to not be rude despite my lack of hunger, Preston made it easy to sit at the table and listen. Slowly a smile crept upon my face; something I had not worn in months. For the first time in a long time I did not feel quite so alone, and I did not feel so sad, and I did not feel cold. There was no remembering a better time for me. Memories seemed to be just out of reach; things I could not quite recall. All I knew was the hollowness of each moment and how it was almost unbearable most of the time. However, some of that seemed to lift while he was with me. It were as though he had a way of pushing those feelings to the back of my mind in order to make way for better ones. It was unexpected, yet welcomed freely.
         As my comfort increased, my appetite seemed to follow suit. I learned that Preston was in town for the production of the movie they were making out of his newly released book. The book was a phenomena of the times and wildly popular with nearly every age group and demographic. I couldn't remember hearing of a new book being released recently, then again, I couldn't recall much of anything that happened recently. I probably would not be aware if bombs began dropping on my head. It was still impressive, though. Preston was now a famous author; someone people recognized on the streets. Comparing him to the person I knew as a child was mind blowing. I was glad he had made something of himself; it was awesome to see that somebody had.
         Somehow he managed to keep the conversation light, and I may have cracked a smile here and there. It seemed like it had been years since I laughed or smiled, and it felt refreshing and odd at the same time to do so now. I wondered if I should feel guilty for having a moment of joy during such a dark time in my life. Then I shook the notion of as ridiculous; I had to move on sometime, somehow. Maybe God had sent me Preston, and maybe he would help me do just that.
         As our morning came to a close, Preston cleaned up for me and excused himself as politely as he'd entered. I smiled and waved him goodbye, thanking him for the surprise visit and hoping he'd do it again. Soon. Maybe tomorrow. Turning to shut the door, a sinking feeling crept to the pit of my stomach. Closing sweetly, with almost a definite sort of snap, it seemed even the door knew the moment was over and now it was safe to cry. It was safe to cry because I was so pathetic. It was safe to cry because that's all I knew how to do. It was safe to cry because I had realized while standing in that doorway, as Preston walked away, I was incredibly, profoundly, irreversibly alone and felt as though I could never love again.

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