Page 23 of Safer Alone
I have no open houses scheduled for Saturday. I rarely have a whole weekend free. I can’t even remember the last time I didn’t have to work on the weekend. Knowing that I don’t have to meet anyone or do anything, I sleep in until 9:00 am. After lying in bed for a little while, enjoying the fact that I don’t need to get up and be anywhere, I decide that I would binge watch something on DVD. I hop out of bed and make my way into the living room, retrieve seasons one, two and three of Deadwood from their resting place in the entertainment unit and place them on the coffee table.
Deciding against the normal breakfast, I instead make a big bowl of popcorn and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Depositing both items on the couch, I pick up season one and place the first disc into the DVD machine and press play. Returning to my spot I make myself comfortable, devouring mouthfuls of popcorn and washing the saltiness away with the water. A text alert on my phone sounds. I jump up and find it on my bed, opening up the text message that is sitting in the middle of my screen:
<: How are the parents? Why don’t you ask them to come with you to the concert? James :)
I smile. He always remembers what I told him and the fact that he wouldn’t mind my parents tagging along with us if I did go shows the kind of person he is. I consider telling him that my parents didn’t actually make it and I am on my way; instead I chicken out:
<: Same as always, we are watching Deadwood. They have the sniffles so we’re staying in. Enjoy yourself, though. Ange
I don’t hear from James again over the weekend, I return to my spot on the couch and keep watching television.
Sunday comes and along with it, rain. Just as well. My plans consist of exactly what I had done yesterday. This is what I love to do on a weekend: stay home and relax, just me, myself and I. Late in the afternoon a text message appears:
<: How was your weekend? Elliot
I am surprised to hear from him at first. Is it really such a good idea to be liaising with one of my purchasers personally? Then again, I will be flying to New York next week to go over design plans for his new home, so it’s best that I keep up contact. Best for business. I figured one text message wouldn’t hurt:
<: It’s been relaxing, thank you. How about you? Angela
Once I hit send, I didn’t put my phone down like I normally would. Instead I keep it in my hands staring at the screen, willing him to message me back. It didn’t take long:
<: Very busy. I didn’t wake you, did I? Elliot
Confusion washes over me. Did he think I went to bed at 4:30 in the afternoon? I send a response right away:
<: Wake me? No afternoon naps for me today. Busy good or busy bad? Angela
He must have been sitting on his phone too as before my phone had a chance to lock itself another message lit up the screen:
<: Sorry, I forgot about the time difference. I’m 6 hours ahead of you. Busy good. Purchasing a run-down castle. Elliot
I figured he made an error, New York City was not six hours ahead of Nashville, then again New York certainly didn’t have castles you could buy, where on earth was he?
<: Are you not in New York? Congratulations on another purchase. Angela
I waited less than a minute for Elliot to reply:
<: Nope, I’m in London. It’s not in the bag yet, but I’m hopeful. Elliot
He was in London, lucky bugger. Certainly, a more exciting weekend then mine. His work must take him overseas, why else would he be in the United Kingdom, purchasing a castle, no less?
<: Well aren’t you a lucky one. Bring me back a souvenir? :D
I wasn’t sure why I said that, it was meant to be a joke. Which is why I included a smiley face, I certainly didn’t expect the response I received:
<: I already got you something. Elliot
Upon reading those five words I dropped my phone and squealed at the same time, I bent and scooped it back off the floor in front of my feet and read it again, he had purchased me something. Why would he do that? Surely only to thank me for helping with the Belle Meade Homestead.
<: I was joking but thank you. Angela
Instantly a response comes back:
<: You’re welcome. See you Thursday. Elliot.
I decide against replying, not wanting to prolong our text message session, instead putting my phone back in the bedroom and watching Deadwood for the rest of the afternoon. I hop into bed that night with my mind thinking about what the souvenir could possibly be. A postcard or a magnet? Possibly a key ring or a pen? I drift off to sleep thinking about double decker buses and red telephone booths.
Monday and Tuesday pass in much of a blur, only really noticing them as each day brings me closer to seeing Elliot again. Since I had heard from him on Sunday, I felt uplifted and excited to see him again. I have wondered how it would be this time to see him, not as strangers, but as acquaintances. The text messages on Sunday advising he had purchased a souvenir for me wasn’t something you would do for someone you hardly knew, so this makes my heart swell. He must consider me something else. A friend possibly? Would the spark that was present when we shared a meal still be there?
