Page 89 of Never To Suffer

I sigh, rocking my head back until it clicks. “This from the one who tries to avoid Theo by hiding on your perch outside?” I regret it the moment I say it. I’m not trying to be mean, just stating the obvious.

“I don’t want to be the wave maker, Dani. Of all the fragile pieces on the board, I’m the steadiest right now, the most supported. You and Xander are the two with wobbling bases. Theo and I will figure each other out in time, and neither of us has to rush.”

“I’m not wobbly! I’m fine! I’m better than fine.” I hope he doesn’t hear the shake in my declaration. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

CHAPTER 37

DANCIN’ AROUND

MEG DONNELLY

I’min the middle of one of Xander’s epic fantasy novels he left out on the table, enjoying the rare quiet of the apartment, when the door handle turns, and Theo walks in with a tin of something he made from scratch last night. His being here reinforces my idea of the pattern of life he lives. If Xander spends the night at Theo’s, they’re together most of the day and we don’t see much of them. If Xander spends the night here, I can almost set my watch to Theo’s appearance the next day with something delicious and fresh baked in his hands. He’s not intrusive. I don’t even find it that weird, just something I noticed from my view in the background. If Theo’s noticed any patterns like that in me, he hasn’t mentioned it, although since he’s not my shrink, he doesn’t need to notice me at all.

“Hey, Doc,” I don’t bother looking up from the book or climbing inside. “If you’re looking for the kids, they were gone before I got back, so I’m not sure when they plan to be home. Date night.”

“Yeah, I got the calendar reminder earlier. I wasn’t planning to cook anything because of that, but, well, I didn’t want to disappoint you by not coming over.”

“So, you noticed your own habit?” That gets my attention. I put the book down and lean in, curiosity getting the better of me. Theo doesn’t come over for me, I’m an afterthought. That title doesn’t bother me since we’re all still adjusting to this whole situation. In all fairness, I haven’t extended an olive branch of any kind either.

“I, uhm, thought you were headed out to France?”

“I am,” he answers with a slow nod. “Not for a few days, though. Baggy must know, too, because she’s been MIA since I got home and finished cooking these. She does that as soon as I get the luggage out and pack.”

“She’ll be in good hands, Doc. She and Dani both have the same care instructions: feed them and pet them until they’re happy.” I run my hand through my hair, trying to figure out what we do next in this awkward dance, but he takes the lead, walking over and holding a box out to me. Reflexes say I should take it, thank him, and leave it on the counter for Xander, but my gut says there’s something else going on here.

“I noticed the other day that you were a fan of the pistachio macarons. So, knowing they wouldn’t be here to eat them before you get a chance, I made you some. Call it an ice breaker, of sorts.”

“You made them…for me?” I take the box and read the handwritten note he’s left on top. “Skylar’s, do not eat these if your name isn’t Skylar. Pretty sure you could put these under lock and key and Dani would still find a way in. Uhm, thank you.”

It’s awkward. Neither of us is sure where to go from here. Do we shake, hug, or keep staring at each other for all eternity? Guess it’s my turn to take the initiative. I slide over and pat the pillow next to me. “Care to join me? Xander rolled this for me before he left. I haven't gotten around to it yet.”

I hold up a joint and he takes it and nods before climbing through the large window and onto the fire escape. I love old buildings. They’ve all got built in patios perfect for some fresh air if you’re not a dick about it. I grab the bottle of wine I brought out with me early and set it between us.

“It’s not French, or even that good, but?—”

“Doesn’t matter. Wine and coffee share a lot in common, Skylar. The company you’re with can make a fifty-cent cup taste like it costs a million dollars. You’ll keep the memories long after you’ve forgotten the brand.”

“And here Dani thinks I’m the wordsmith. I might make use of that saying.” I pour some wine into a coffee cup and hand it over to him. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it out of the lyrics. For now.”

“Do you write any of her songs?” He asks, sniffing wine and taking a drink. “The lyrics, I mean.”

“No, I leave that all up to her. Well, more like she refuses to relinquish that responsibility.”

He nods, and the silence falls over us for a while. Adjusting to each other’s company will take time. I light my smoke and hand him the lighter. It’s a rare, nice day in Los Angeles, if you stick to the shadows of the buildings. The triple digital temperatures of summer are gone, but we’re not into the cooler months yet. We might get lucky and get a cool November next month.

“How are you doing with Anna? Are you two getting along?” He asks, lighting the joint and taking a deep pull.

“She’s been wonderful. I had to call her from the road a few times with the way the tour has been, and she’s handled the odd hours of my…breakdowns with grace and kindness.” He holds the joint out to me and I stare at it for too long before taking it.

The thick, smooth taste of the weed comforts me more than my cigarettes. Nothing like the skunky shit we used to buy from dealers when I was a teenager. The months-long break means it hits harder than I’m prepared for, bringing me down to a mellowI’ve been trying to replicate for a while now. I pass it back, blowing out smoke rings. Theo does the same.

“You should know,” Theo says as I offer him a macaron. “I had ulterior motives coming over here today. I almost chickened out. Twice.” I grab the bottle of wine and top us both off before he says anything else. This might be an intervention or him gearing up to give me a speech about the quad not working and how I’m the problem. I’m gonna need a drink. “I’m trying to figure out the other sides of this box, and how we connect.”

“You’d rather it be a triangle, I assume?”

His head tilts to the side before he reaches over and takes one of the macarons, staring at it. “You know, I have a strange ability to relate to people through food easier than I do emotions sometimes, which, for a psychiatrist, can be problematic. I also don’t waste my time, talent, and ingredients on someone if they’re not worth it. If they’re not someone I want to connect with in some way. My issue isn’t that I want a different shape or number, it’s that I’m too stuck in my own angle to see everyone’s place in the shape we’re making.”

“I…don’t think I understand.”

---