New York Girl (formerly known as Maple Street)

Chapter Seven

Pinter Moments.

On the morning of Alex's arrival, I paced the floor trying to think of ways to explain away what I had done. Even though I felt awful - a bigger part of me also believed I had suffered enough guilt over the last few weeks to last a life time.

I had taken a day's vacation at work - Rachel (My Manager) was more than understanding about it. I told her about Alex briefly and she seemed sympathetic enough – she was quite a multi – faceted character and like everything else to do with my new job- I still wasn’t quite sure how to take her.

I kept my outfit plain and unflattering-figuring an oversized jumper and a pair of baggy jeans should be enough to make him realize he wasn’t missing out on a thing – and that I was in fact, just a prude – not attractive – hopefully it  would make him return to England happy enough to get on with the rest of his life.. hopefully.

Stirring the spoon – I took a long sniff of camomile and walked over to the big bay window- the only malleable feature in my apartment.

Nestling the cup in between both hands – the steam evaporated, giving out a sense of re-assurance – everything was going to be alright. It was – I could feel it in my bones.

Observing people below – I watched families buying ice-cream – hotdogs and cola – children jumping up and down grabbing the big cones, their little faces hidden inside a combination of ice cream and sprinkles.

One more sip of this stuff and I’ll be asleep, I thought to myself.

 I was brought back to full consciousness when I saw a bright yellow taxi pull up outside my apartment block.  He had arrived.

 I stood frozen –unable to move, knocking back the remnants of tea- I instantly regretted my choice of outfit- oh drat! I’d never find anything suitable to wear in like, twenty seconds. Ruffling my hair like a maniac, I pinched both of my cheeks, a secret Mom taught me years ago –‘It’s better than all that rouge rubbish you buy in department stores, one pinch and you’ll be as rosy as anything.’ She’d say and she was right.

The doorbell rang and the hurling started –the same sickly feeling I’d always get when faced with confrontation- ‘here we go!’ I uttered under my breath.

Opening the door felt like walking for the first time and even though I couldn’t remember taking my first steps – I imagined it to somehow feel like this. ‘Hi.’ I gulped. He kept his stare to the floor. ‘Come in.’ I continued.

Looking over at the bay window as we made the awkward journey to the lounge – I was reminded of my wedding day, hanging from that ledge, I was half-tempted to repeat the action again. Will I ever learn? ‘Tea, let’s have some tea.’ I said, walking into the kitchen.

Throwing the bag of his shoulder, he sat down at the table, his stare still fixed to the floor. ’So, this is your apartment?’

'It certainly is.’ I shouted from the kitchen, flicking the switch on the kettle, I snuck a quick look at him. ’How many sugars again?’

‘One.’ He grunted.

I planted both cups onto the table and sat opposite him. ‘Are you hungry? Would you like a sandwich or something? You must be starving after that long journey.’

Avoiding eye contact he dipped his head inside the cup. ’No, thanks.’

‘So how have you been?’

‘I haven’t come here to indulge in small talk Lucy.’

‘I was just..’

‘We need to decide who will have the house. I paid more towards it so I think I should have it and anything owed to you will be paid in full. You can have the car.’