Page 31 of David's Love

“Can I get some slippers? I’m not comfortable in my shoes.

“Yeah, sure. I have a pair in my bedroom.”

“All right.”

“They’re in the closet,” I say, although she’s already out the door.

I hear her voice in the other room but can’t make up what she’s saying.

Eventually, she looms in the doorway with the box of books I usually keep under my bed. The one where David’s gift––Rain’s special edition book–– and a good chunk of cash have been deposited.

I already have a piece of pizza in my mouth, and it goes stale as I stare at her, my lips parted, my voice dead.

Kill me now.

“Are they here? I couldn’t find them.”

Oh, there’s hope.

I chew rapidly on my food and swallow it as if it’s contraband goods before rising out of my seat and moving toward her like a vulture.

“No. Absolutely not.”

I pretty much confiscate the box and dash to the bedroom. There’s no safe place to hide it, but I push it under the bed again, like it’s nothing, and get her slippers from the closet.

“Here,” I say sternly.

She seems distracted but not that distracted,

“What’s in that box?”

“Box?”

“Yeah. The one under the bed.”

She has a smile on her face, and now, I can’t tell whether her question is a trap, she’s testing me, or truly she’s curious about the box.

“Some old books and trinkets. Stuff I took from Terry’s house and couldn’t find a place for.”

“Speaking of books. Have you tried to write again?”

I let out a sigh of relief before a new wave of panic sweeps through me.

“Yeah, I have. And I couldn’t keep the story straight.”

Luckily, we walk away from my bedroom and claim our seats at the kitchen table.

We start to eat, and I forget about wanting a cup of tea. I’m no longer thirsty. I shove food into my mouth, but she hardly notices.

Hungry as she is, she gets wrapped up in the mix of melted cheese, baked cherry tomatoes and dough, and aromatic basil tickling her palate.

“Maybe you should try a different story,” she says before pausing to run a napkin over her lips.

“That’s exactly what I thought. I don’t seem to get it right. Besides, romance is not for me, it seems.”

She takes a bite and looks at me thoughtfully, chewing on her food.

“Art imitates life.”

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