Page 50 of Lost Room Lawyer
“Believe what you want, but I can see it in the tip of your nose. You’re in love—or at least infatuated.”
I leaned back in the chair and let my gaze wander through the store.
Am I? I don’t know.
“Hector Lando?” my mother asked playfully.
Oh God!I thought, rolling my eyes. “We’re just having fun together.”
“Yes, together. But you seem to be getting a lot out of it.” She nodded at the bag in my lap. “The Birds’ Song of Laughter?”
“Alright,” I admitted reluctantly. “Maybe I’ve developed a bit of a crush on him, but I’m not stupid. The man is married and has two kids. I’m just someone he’s having an affair with.”
“You don’t need to justify yourself. I still love the book, just like many others do,” my mother said, standing up and gathering the three books into her arms. “I’m just saying that he seems to be good for you, and I’m very happy for you. Your happiness is important to me.”
I stayed seated for a moment, watching her return two of the books to the shelf. She kept the Giacometti. On the way to the register, she abruptly stopped. It seemed as if she had spotted something on the floor, but then she stretched out her arm as if trying to grasp onto something that wasn’t there. I hurried over to her and supported her.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yes … I’m fine. I just felt a bit dizzy for a moment. Probably stood up too quickly. This happens to me more often lately.”
I remembered her mentioning it, but I hadn’t expected the dizziness to be so severe that she almost collapsed. “Why didn’t you say it was so bad?” I asked accusingly. “You almost fell.”
“I have low blood pressure. That’s all.”
“Have you had it checked?”
“What’s the doctor going to do?” she asked, letting me guide her to the register.
I was annoyed with myself for not reminding her to make a doctor’s appointment. Typical. “Promise me you’ll see a doctor.”
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Promise me.”
“Okay,” she said, paying for the book. “I promise.”
That didn’t fully satisfy me, but at least it was clear that I didn’t take it as lightly as she did. Afterward, we went for a drink at a nearby cafe, and then I headed home. All I wanted was one thing.
To write.
And that’s exactly what I did. Despite the steel-blue sky, I shut out spring and lost myself in fiction all weekend. I felt like an alcoholic who, after years of abstinence, succumbed to a single glass. Maybe it was Hector, maybe not. Maybe I was just inspired by a muse or some god had granted mercy.
You’ve suffered enough, Nicola. Write!
I felt electrified. I lost track of time that I forgot to eat and sleep, even becoming irritated when Dominic interrupted my reverie.
“Don’t you have to work tomorrow?”
When I turned my head, he emerged next to me, placing a plate with a sandwich on the table. “Here. Don’t let it get as bad as it did ten years ago.”
I didn’t understand what Dominic meant and just blinked. My eyes hurt from staring at the monitor for so long. “What are you talking about?”
Dominic smiled. “Of course you don’t remember how obsessively you worked on that book. Eat. Take a shower. And then go to bed.”
Gradually, my brain switched back to reality mode. “Has it really been ten years?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
Dominic sat on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. “I’m glad you can write again, but it was the same back then. I lost count of how many times you stood me up. Every time I called to ask where you were, I’d get Rina on the phone telling me you were writing. Your mom should have been tougher on you. You don’t realize how unhealthy that is. You completely forget about everything else.”
