A Room With A View

Chapter Twenty-Six - Elena

September 19th, Tuesday

Elena trained her eyes on the stairwell door. It had been weeks—months, if she was being honest with herself—since she had exercised. When the twins had been born, Elena's whole world had focused on the tiny humans the hospital had let her take home. She hadn't had time to disappear to the gym for an hour or two. Granted, the gym was in the basement of the building, so if she had truly wanted to jump on a treadmill, it would have been easy.

But she hadn't wanted to. Elena hadn't want to miss a single second of her boys growing up. So playing on the floor with them had become her squats, and picking them up had become her arm workouts. Now that they were almost three, however, they were becoming too big to pick up. And Elena was running out of excuses.

"Whew, okay, you can do this. It's just...fifteen flights of stairs." Elena reached out her hand to the door handle. It was easily the slowest motion anyone had ever made.

"You can duck out on any floor and just take the elevator up. Just make this first little effort," she muttered under her breath.

Elena twisted the handle. Maybe she could start with going halfway. Six flights of stairs was still a huge accomplishment. Elena's thighs would be burning.

Or maybe just four. Four flights was a good place to start.

Elena pulled open the door. She was acutely aware of Simon staring at the back of her head. She could see him in the lobby's vast mirrors.

"This is foolish," Elena said, feeling her skin turn pink. She licked her lips and gritted her teeth. Even just three flights of stairs would be a success, seeing as how she'd been breathing hard on the tiny curb-step up to the building.

"Elena?"

Elena let the door fall shut. She whipped back around, silently thanking whomever had just called her name. The thanks died on her lips.

Agatha hobbled toward her, a bony hand clutching an ebony cane. "Elena?" she asked again, almost apologetically.

Elena glanced at the mirrors. Joshua should be upstairs with the twins, but Elena needed to make sure that he wasn't anywhere nearby.

"Yes?" she said, the lobby clear of eavesdroppers.

Agatha stopped. She was four feet from Elena, and already she looked four decades older than when Elena had last seen her. The pink dress she wore hung like a shroud over her thin body. Jagged shoulders and sharp elbows poked up uncomfortably from the fabric. Agatha's hair wrapped around her head like a wispy cloud, and her face was wrinkled and shrunken. Elena wouldn't have been surprised if Agatha had wilted right then and there.

"How is he?" Agatha asked, her voice like dry leaves.

Elena rubbed her arm. She looked away. "Neil's doing great," she said softly.

Agatha made a sound in her throat.

"He's a professor at Yale," Elena continued. "And he's...he's so happy." She looked up at Agatha. "You would be proud."

Agatha let out a long breath. Her cane slid an inch across the floor, making a loud skreetch on the tile. Elena waited, unsure if she should say anything else. When Agatha didn't move, Elena took that as her permission.

"And Gordon is just such a great--"

"Did he ask?" Agatha said, cutting through Elena's words.

Elena knew the full question was "did he ask about me". Elena hesitated. She didn't have the heart to say no.

"I'm thinking about inviting them over for Thanksgiving," Elena said instead. Agatha's black eyes were fixed on hers, drinking in any information Elena had.