Stranger at My Door

CH12: Ana

Stranger at my door

CH12: Ana

I have been staring at the same words for what feels like eons but the words do not seem to form a sentence, let alone a cohesive paragraph. I close my eyes and rub my neck. It has been fifty hours and twenty-two minutes since I saw Christian last, not that I am counting.

It turns out that Mr. Grey lives in a secluded area hidden by a forest and overlooking Lake Washington. The place where I stayed is a guesthouse, a very comfortable two bedroom guest cottage. Wednesday morning, Christian showed me the main house, which he is planning in demolishing. I was surprised since it looked fantastic just in need of a little TLC.

I swirled in the great room with my arms outstretched to either side laughing and smiling at him. The granite floors were a little slippery and I ungracefully fell into his arms. Christian actually laughed a carefree laugh that makes me smile every time I remember. I hate to think that house will be demolished in a few months’ time.

I wonder what it is like to have so much money that he can live in a pretty nice cottage, and afford to demolish a beautiful mansion because it does not have enough ‘green materials.’ Much like a fancy rabbit that decides his borrow is no longer nice enough so moves the nest to a better, bigger place. I understand all about building a nest. That is what my place is all about, a nice nest to find security, comfort, and to leave the worries of the world behind.

I did not see Christy during my short visit; she was at Christian’s parents. At first, I thought it was odd but with the luxury of time, now, I understand. He is a father protecting his daughter; she does not need to be subjected to a stream of strange women being paraded here and there - I actually can respect that.

I am at work, at my desk, pretending to work; however, I cannot concentrate. For the first time in my life, I think I know what it means to be blue. That in itself is an interesting fact, I would have expected to feel blue after breaking up with Jose but I actually felt free. Granted there was some sadness during those days but now, for Christian, I feel melancholy and longing.

I inhale sharply; the smell of the red stemmed roses Christian sent me invades my lungs. I am not sure why I kept them; I should have thrown them away. I really do not need any more reminders of our time together. I did send him a thank you note, the old fashion way by mail post. He should receive it in a few days; briefly, I wonder what he would do with it.

Wednesday morning, when I was drinking my morning tea, my heart dropped when Clair barged into my office. “He is really into you…” Clair cheerfully declared as she brought a beautiful vase with twenty four perfect roses “… and red, the color of love and passion!” she said dreamily. Clair was happy the rest of the day, winking at me and holding her heart every time she saw me - my heart ripped apart a little bit at a time.

There is a frigid rain coming down, and condensation on the window next to my desk has started to form. The miserable weather reflects my mood: cold, gray and forbidding. I hope it stops before lunch time. I am not sure why I agreed to lunch with Kate, my stomach is in knots most of the time and I barely eat these days. I stand up and walk around the office making small talk with several of my coworkers.

Finally I end up at the kitchen; it is a nice sized kitchen for all us employees to use. There is large working refrigerator, cupboards with coffee and teas, four microwaves, several water coolers and soda machines, as well as an area with sinks and dishwashers. Also, several tables and chairs are strategically placed in the large room. Barb Lynch is crying in a corner table and Clair is trying to console her. Barb is Mr. Roach’s assistant and usually is very well put together. Right now, though, her eyes are puffy, red and her nose is watery.