“She always looks good,” he says.
Nice to hear, but I’m still not sure whether I’m welcome. Or what to do. Showing up at his job might be just as great an idea as turning up at his home. What was I thinking? I could just hand over the bottle, apologize, and leave. He and I don’t need to be spending time together. It was my initial plan, but now words are a tangle on my tongue. Or maybe I’m looking for excuses to stay.
“I should be finished in about ten minutes,” says Leif, giving me a gentle smile. “We could try giving the whole eating-a-meal-together thing another try?”
I relax back against the seat. “Sure. That would be great.”
“Better,” grunts Art. “There’s hope for you yet.”
The weird thing about being down and out for seven months is how the world moves on without you. Great-Aunt Susan died of breast cancer. Angie and Erin finally had IVF success. A childhood hero of mine died in a drowning accident. My cousin Jack got married. A new president was elected. So many things, big and small. Then there are the movies and songs that come on TV or the radio that everyone knows except me. Little holes in my reality to remind me I was missing for a while.
“Taylor Swift put out a new album?” I ask, listening to the new tune that started playing.
Leif shoots me a grin. “Should have known you were a Swifty.”
“Leave Tay Tay alone,” Ed joins in with a smirk. And to think Leif called me judgmental.
“She’s a fine musician and songwriter,” says Art, my new hero.
“Of course she is. And yes, Anna, she did. Two albums, in fact.” Leif again wipes away the blood rising to the surface on the tattoo. “About eight or nine months back.”
I nod.
“Who’s talking smack about Taylor?” asks Tessa, striding back into the room.
“No one,” says Ed, face suddenly serious.
“We wouldn’t dare,” adds Leif. What a clown.
Nina Simone comes on next and Tessa hums along, swinging her hips to the music. She’s wearing a pair of yellow loafers I’d kill to own. Along with a matching ’50s-style tight sweater and artfully ripped jeans. I dream of being this cool. Of wearing bright colors and daring to stand out.
“I fired the new receptionist,” says Tessa, apropos of nothing. “Thinking we were friends, he confided in me that he was just too hung over to join us today.”
Ed shakes his head. “Fuck’s sake. Why is this so hard?”
Leif’s brow wrinkles into the most serious of frowns. Tessa gives his shoulder a squeeze in passing and whispers, “Not your fault. Let it go.”
Curious.
“We’ll find someone eventually,” Tessa says in a louder tone.
Art’s session finishes with smiles and manly back slapping, then Leif cleans up his area. This is more involved than I’d imagined. But then they are dealing with blood and ink and other fluids.
“Do you mind a short walk?” he asks as we head out into the afternoon sun. “Otherwise I can call a car?”
“No,” I say. “A walk would be nice if we can take it slow.”
Despite the long legs, he sets a pace I can manage just fine. Side by side, in perfect sync, we wander along, me hanging onto my purse strap and scotch. Him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his leather jacket. The breeze is cool, but the sun is warm. Behind the cover of my sunglasses, I can pretty much watch him to my heart’s content. Catalogue the multitude of ways in which he’s different from Ryan. Which is something I probably shouldn’t do, but here we are.
While my ex strides through the world toward his destination with great purpose, Leif is content to amble and take everything in. The sky, the buildings and trees, the people wandering by. He even smiles and raises a hand in greeting to some. The walk itself is an event for him, a moment to be cherished. He is a happy, open sort of person. Or at least, he gives off that impression.
While Ryan stood tall, proud, and upright, taking up as much room as possible, Leif slouches in an oddly graceful manner. Ryan reveled in being busy; our life was always planned to the nth. Work dinners, get-togethers, family outings, and so on. Something always seemed to be happening. Maybe it’s why my new life is so jarring. The silence between medical appointments. The emptiness of my calendar. I need to get a life. A new one.
“Got much going on this afternoon?” I ask, making conversation.
“No. Had a cancellation.” He shrugs. “Figured I’d chill.”
So they’re basically complete opposites. Day and night, sun and moon, et cetera.
“Care to chill with me?” he asks with a smile.
“Sure. That’d be great.”
A nod. “Cool.”
Ryan hated last-minute plans or alterations, while Leif seems content to live life on the fly. It’s official, the two men couldn’t be more different. Also, I need to stop comparing them.
“You’re frowning,” says Leif. “Why is that?”
I scrunch up my face. “Oh. Ah . . .”
“Be honest,” he chides.
“I was thinking deep thoughts about my soon-to-be ex-husband’s character.”
He scratches his stubble. “Yeah, see, this is difficult for me. Because I kind of want to high-five you for dumping the asshole. And make no mistake, he is an asshole and completely undeserving of you. But on the other hand, you had your heart stomped on by that whole situation and I don’t want to be an insensitive dick.”
I frown. “Yeah.”
He bops his head like he’s listening to music. Or just agreeing with himself. “You seem like a smart woman who’s got it together. So I’m sure he wasn’t always a complete cock splash. At least, I hope not.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“But it sounds like it’s probably time now to catapult that marriage into the sun.”
“This is true.” I heavy sigh. “You know, I used to think we were perfect. It’s kind of been a wake-up call to find out that we were far from it.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just cocks his head to let me know he’s listening.
“We used to coordinate outfits and finish each other’s sentences and all that annoying couple stuff.”
A grunt.
“Now I just wonder if our wardrobes were boring, if we never had an original thought between us, and perhaps urgently needed to each get a life irrespective of the other,” I say. “I used to think his shortcomings were so cute. The way he’d carry on and on about work stuff. How he’d scream at the television during football games. Guess everyone’s cute and funny until they’re not.”
“The veil has been lifted.”
“Indeed.”
“Relationships.” His broad shoulders deflate. “What can you do?”
“I take it they’re not your thing?”
He sighs. “That’s a conversation that needs to be accompanied by alcohol.”
“Got it.”
“Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your birthday bash,” he says, face tense. “I, um . . . I’m not much into group things at the moment. But I hope it was a good day and everything.”
“Sure. Thanks.” That Mom invited him is news to me. Though she knew I’d been to see him, so I guess her inviting him makes sense. Why he’s against group events, I have no idea. But it’s not like they’re my thing right now either. People en masse are a problem. Their opinions and expectations and just how generally overwhelming it can all be.