Page 41 of The Sound Of Us

An evening jog? Is he also having a hard time sleeping? Slipping into my sneakers, I grab my phone and a light jacket and step outside.

Axel slows down when Pepper stops every five seconds to sniff the flowers and pee on every tree trunk. It gives me time to catch up.

He lifts his hand in in proper sign language. I greet him back. Hello.

His eyes dart away and back to me several times. After several awkward moments, his lips move. His frown adds distress to his face. “I’m sorry,” he says.

He drops his head and I have to lift his face to mine to watch his lips. “Oh, sorry. I was saying, I’m sorry. About last night.”

I smile. His eyes drop to my lips. He’s as unsorry as I am, but I’ve gotten over the mandatory guilt trip. I’m not, I type on my phone.

“I’m married.” His lips tremble after that declaration.

I nod, indicating that I know.

“I won’t do it again.”

I nod again. But his eyes devour my face. His lips tell me one thing, but his eyes speak a language we both understand. His lips are lying. His eyes tell me a hundred truths.

So, I reach over, pluck his woollen hat off his head, releasing his pretty curls, and touch the pad of my thumb to his lips. They part for me, blowing warm air into the cold.

Pepper nuzzles my crotch. I ignore her.

When I drop my hand, Axel screws his eyes shut and then presses his lips to mine. It’s a fraction of a second and not enough time for me to return his kiss. His lips move against mine. I can’t read his words—we’re too close—but I’m dead sure he said he’s sorry.

I watch him scurry away with Pepper, trying hard to hold on to the feel of this man’s lips on mine.

Chapter 21

Axel

What am I doing?

Like a fool on a loop, I ask myself this question all the way to the barbershop in the morning.

Frank had left a fresh cup of cappuccino on the table for me before he left for work and a note reminding me he’s on an early shift today because of a swap out with another colleague. Make us some good spicy pasta, the note had said.

This swap out means Frank will be on overnight duty on Friday. And that means NO LUBE FRIDAY would be postponed until the following week.

As I hurry for an early spot at the barbershop, the question bangs around inside my head. What the fuck am I doing?

Who goes around kissing strangers like this? Anyone could have seen. Okay, that’s not true. If anything, if you were a married man wanting to kiss a stranger, then Eli’s property near the lake is the least likely place you’d get caught.

The bookstore opens at nine a.m. today, which gives me enough time to get a haircut.

“Axel, you’re up.” Harold, the guy who’s been cutting my hair since I was a kid, holds up his scissors and shaving machine. Harold is a reed of a man, thin and long, with kind brown eyes and a neatly styled afro. He’s almost eighty years old, but no one would ever guess. I think someone fed him water from the fountain of life when he was born.

I take a seat in front of the mirrors.

“Are you sure, honey?” Harold asks. He always asks. Even when my hair was falling off during chemotherapy and it needed to be shaved, he still asked. I think it hurts him as much as it hurts me to put a pair of scissors to my hair.

“I’m sure, Harry,” I say. He doesn’t believe me.

“Why don’t you go to work and come back in the afternoon? Sometimes, we just need to stew on things a little, you know?”

I almost believe him, but then I remember the press of Eli’s lips on mine. The indescribable pleasure that raced through my body. The stench of betrayal entering and exiting my body with every breath.

“No, I’m sure.”

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