Page 31 of Safer Alone
Five minutes later I transfer the soup into my largest mug and wander over to the couch. I turn the television on and after flicking through the channels, I settle on a movie that I have watched my fair share of times. Titanic: A poor male falls in love with a wealthy female. He saves her life by preventing her suicide and again at the end of the film after the well-known sinking of the ship by freezing to death in the water, while she floats on a door in the middle of the ocean waiting to be rescued.
Admittedly I’m not really paying much attention to the movie. What I am giving my whole attention to is really more a who. The male lead, Jack Dawson, portrayed by the amazingly talented Leonardo DiCaprio. In the real world, he really is the whole package: philanthropist, enjoyed renovating properties, private, and he uses his fame to bring attention to topics that need support, including global warming and climate change. Oh and did I forget to mention that he is incredibly gorgeous to boot.
Another man who is incredibly gorgeous is Elliot. He continues to float through my mind, he didn’t kiss me again today, sure, he kissed my cheek, but after last night I was thinking that possibly things had changed between us. Then again, I would have believed it was a dream if it hadn’t been for the delicious lunch I had today, reminding me of the meal we shared last night. The way he kissed me made me go weak at the knees, I can’t help but hope and pray that it happens again. Not that I will be instigating the kiss. I’ll be waiting for him to make the move.
Once I have drained the last of the soup from my mug, which seemed to have filled the spot in my stomach quite well, I quickly wash and dry the saucepan, can opener and soup mug and put them away. I hang the tea towel over the oven handle to air and dry and head back into the laundry for the third time this evening, where the dryer had completed its cycle.
I pull all of the clothing out and into the washing basket, and carry it with me to the living room, dropping into the single arm chair. I then also collect the ironing board, iron and spray bottle of water from the laundry before returning to start my least favorite chore, ever. As I iron each item, I take them into the bedroom and hang them up in their position, black pants with black shirts, blue skirts with blue blouses, everything in its place. I like having an organized wardrobe. It makes it easier to find what I am looking for on those mornings when I am in a rush. Half an hour later I have finished the entire basket. Folding the ironing board, I carry it along with the other used products and then pack all the items back into the laundry.
By the time that I have completed my chores, I chance a glance up at the clock hanging on my kitchen wall. It glares back at me showing 9:00 pm and I decide that it is time for a quick rinse and then I would hit the hay.
The shower is incredibly relaxing and as I run the loofah over my body, I know that I am washing the day away. When I begin to wash my face, my fingertips linger on the spot where he had kissed me, remembering the feel of his lips on my skin. I close my eyes for a moment and replay the scene in my head. The water starts to get cold, so I turn the taps off and hop out.
Once I am dressed in my old pajamas, I start to feel the anticipatory pressure of a migraine coming on, so as a precaution I take two Tylenol with a large glass of water, before brushing and flossing my teeth and then climbing into bed.
I pick up my phone and play a couple of rounds of Tetris and then completing a few crosswords. Looking at the time again it was now heading towards 10:30 pm. Knowing that it is time to try to sleep, I plug my phone in, so it will charge overnight, next turning off the bedside lamp and lying down. I hoped that shortly I would drift off into unconsciousness and experience a dreamless sleep.
~ Chapter Fifteen ~
The constant beep of my alarm clock sounds and it signifies that Friday morning has indeed come along—all too quickly, might I add. Another full day at the office, then I would be free to relax over the weekend. That was what I thought I had ahead of me. Until I remember that there is a reason that today is different from every other Friday. Today, I am only working half a day, and then I am off on an adventure, to say the least. This weekend I am going to spend my time with Elliot. And knowing what I now know, I don’t at all mind that the alarm clock did its job and had woken me from my slumber. This weekend is going to be interesting, to say the least.
I thankfully didn’t experience any nightmares last night. I did however, keep waking up to check the clock. I didn’t want to oversleep today, not even for a minute, and even if my alarm clock failed, my body wasn’t going to let me, anyway.
I jump out of bed without even giving myself any time to wake up properly, and head straight for the kitchen. Once there, I grab the loaf of bread, retrieve a slice and put it in the toaster. Next, the kettle goes on while I retrieve minimal breakfast dishes and my tea bag.
The toaster pops and I spread a large chunk of butter over it while it’s hot so it will melt into it. I take a welcome bite and swallow greedily. No jam or marmalade for me. My number one choice is just butter on its own. When the water is boiled, it goes into my awaiting cup and I jiggle my tea bag around.
After I finish my piece of toast, I quickly wash and dry the dishes, and put them away. Then I collect my cup of tea and make my way into the bedroom, placing the cup of tea on the chest of drawers and looking for something to wear. I had decided earlier this morning, in one of my more lucid moments, that I wouldn’t be changing when I got home to collect my bags, therefore whatever I wear to work today will be what I will be wearing on the plane and therefore will be the clothing that Elliott will see me in.
Each time we have seen each other so far, I have been in work clothing, always professional. He on the other hand has allowed himself to be more casual with jeans and sweaters, after we arrive at his home later today though, this will have changed. I had chosen clothing that was still modest, nothing at all revealing, however it would be a definite step away from the professional Angela he has become used to seeing.
That’s why I feel most comfortable in my work clothing, no matter if you spend $100 on a three-piece suit or $1000 you still look polished and professional. When you change into casual clothing it completely changes the way you look at someone. This is their own personal choice of clothing. Will the fact that I tend to wear comfy clothing appeal to him? Or will it be a complete turn off? I push those thoughts from my mind. I will know the answer soon enough. I need to get ready.
I settle for my newly purchased long black pants. They fit me really well, and slightly flare at the base as well as hugging my hips just enough to give me shape. I am matching that with another one of my more recent purchases, a beautiful soft pink, silk, sleeveless blouse. It’s a little lower cut then some of my other work tops, but with the addition of the black scarf that I had safely stowed away in my carry-on bag, I could cover that up easily enough if I needed to. Next I need to pluck my black cardigan with the ruffled shoulders from its velvet hanger. With that in hand, I then pat around the bottom of the closet until I locate the black wedges that I last wore the first time I met Elliot and place them with the other items on the end of my bed.
With everything that I plan to wear now laid out before me, I look over it once more, nodding. I’m as satisfied with my attire as I am going to be. I need to start getting ready if I am going to make it to work early.
I head for the shower, washing myself from tip to toe. Once out of the shower I wrap my towel securely around my body and then grabbing the smaller microfiber towel I quickly turban around my hair. Locating my cup of tea, I finish it quickly now that it is much cooler. Returning to the bathroom I brush my teeth and gargle with mouthwash, then place everything in a zip lock bag and store them safely in my luggage.
I finish drying myself in much of a frenzy and then start to get dressed. It is nearly 8:00 am when I glance at the clock for the first time. After unwrapping my hair, I look at it. I have options: I can throw it up wet in a messy bun for work, that would then give my hair some body as it dries naturally, or I can pull out the hairdryer and give it body now.
I decide to give it a quick blow dry, not thoroughly, only a brief blow of hot air, knowing the dampness would keep the small waves my hair has naturally. I palmed a curling serum through my ends and then brushed with a wide tooth comb. I apply a little make up, mainly the necessities, foundation, powder, blush and mascara, then I finally dash out the door, needing to get my butt moving and make it to work.
I arrive at 8:45am, fifteen minutes early. Walking through the front door, I can see that only Sandra is in already. “Morning Angela, I know you’re only here for a few hours this morning, however I need to meet with all of you agents this morning to discuss figures. Please be at the conference room at 9:30 am.”
I smile and nod. “Not a problem. Sandra. Do you want me to bring anything?”
Sandra shakes her head and replies, “It’s okay honey, I have already compiled the information. See you shortly.”
With that I head into my office and switch on the computer. I stow my handbag in the bottom drawer of my desk and sit down. My computer sounds its welcome music and I know it is ready for work.
I notice one email that I’ve been waiting for. Finally, a reply from the Thompson family had arrived. Moving my cursor to the email with the subject line which read “Partridge Street,” I click, opening the email to full screen:
Dear Miss White,
We are traveling today but we will be able to get service later today.
I will contact you regarding our offer on the property at Partridge Street.
