Page 37 of The Legend Next Door
“Does it help?”
“Eh, it makes me feel less like a bomb about to go off and more like a fizzy drink that’s been shaken hard but opened slowly.”
“Hmm. That is better than a bomb,” I agree.
“Do you want me to take Luca tonight? Sounds like you could use a night alone with your pillow. Rory and Cam are already in bed, but they’ll lose their minds if they wake up and Luca’s there in the morning.”
Amy was going to take Luca for most of the day tomorrow anyway. The team arrived in Seattle late today and didn’t have free time before the game, so the plan is for me to meet them for breakfast before they fly out.
Fuck. I have to get through that too.
I definitely need to scream, and soon.
“That’d be great. Thanks, Ames.”
Jeremiah and Luca are in exceptionally high spirits when they get home. Luca has the distinct look of a boy on a sugar high and is bedecked in every conceivable accessory a hockey fan could ever own. Jeremiah isn’t far behind.
“Thanks for taking me to the game, Jelly,” says Luca, waving once Jeremiah has deposited him on the porch step. “I had the best time. See you at the wall tomorrow. I’ll be late though, okay, ’cause I’m going to my cousins', and I won’t be back until dinner time.”
“Okay, bud. I’ll see you when I see you. Sleep tight.”
When Jeremiah leaves, Luca and I go upstairs to pack his overnight bag. Luca talks the entire time, barely taking a breath as he gives me a detailed account of the game and everything he ate while he was there.
“Daddy,” he says thoughtfully as I zip up his bag. “I don’t think Jelly really understands hockey.”
This should be good. “Why do you say that, sweetheart?”
He scrunches his face and looks up at me quizzically. “Well, when Sev got checked and went down, Jelly was all upset. At first, he tried to close my eyes with his hand so I wouldn’t see what was happening, and then he said, ‘Now, Luca, if anyone ever tries to do that to you, I want you to go like this’”—Luca holds up his right hand in the universal stop sign, fingers pressed together, palm flat—“‘and I want you to say,Stop!Idon’tlike that!’”
The laugh that bursts out of me is so guttural and far-removed from what I’ve been feeling all day that the sound startles me. Luca laughs too, a soft snicker that turns into an uncontrollable giggle. His eyes shut from the effort and his shoulders shake helplessly. Mine do too.
We laugh and laugh until we're both weak. Helpless. And then we laugh more.
When Luca and Amy leave, I turn out the lights, lock the doors, and begin the arduous task of drawing the curtains in my bedroom.
I pause briefly to eye the pile of pillows on my bed.
I’m not saying I won’t ever scream into one, but I don’t think tonight is the night. The big laugh I shared with Luca earlier broke up the hard knot of anguish I was feeling. It’s not gone completely. I can still feel it. It’s there, just in smaller, more manageable pieces. I know I still have tomorrow to get through, but tonight, right now, I feel okay.
I reach the last window, the one near my bed, and raise my hand to pull the curtain. It hovers and drops to my side.
Jeremiah is in his kitchen. He skipped yoga tonight. He must have because he’s wearing jeans and a T, not yoga pants and a tank. My jacket has been slung over the arm of his sofa and his shoes lie discarded near his bed. He still has his socks on. As he waits for the kettle to boil, he leans against the counter and rubs the ball of one socked foot over the arch of the other absently.
It looks like he’s listening to music because now and again he bobs his head and his lips move as though he’s singing a song he doesn’t know all the words to.
When he raises his cup to his lips, I smell the strong, apple-like scent of chamomile, even though I know damn well that’s impossible.
He sips his tea slowly, closing his eyes and swaying when the song he’s listening to reaches its crescendo. He’s far away, lost in thought tonight. His eyes are daydreamy and bluer than ever. I can’t tell if he looks really happy or really sad.
I want to know.
What are you thinking, Jeremiah? Are you thinking about things that make you happy or sad?
I need to know.
Are you thinking about someone that makes you happy or sad?
He discards what’s left of his tea, pouring it down the drain and rinsing the cup, placing it upside down on his drying rack before patting his hands dry on the back of his jeans. He flicks off the lights in the kitchen and living room. His house is dark but for the LED behind his headboard. It’s red tonight. A sultry, crimson glow that overflows in my direction, growing arms and legs and hands that reach out to me.
