Page 30 of Is This for Real?
“Oh, a little added Goldie action,” Rory says, his face in the pillow.
“No extra charge,” I say, almost in a whisper, as if I’ve lost the ability to speak aloud.
The front door closes.
“Penelope! Something’s burning in the kitchen,” Zelda shouts.
I turn around and Rory raises his head. “I put the timer on.”
Zelda pops her head into the bedroom. “Oh, sorry. Dudes, you got to keep the door closed.”
“Not my lasagna.” Rory puts his shirt back on and buttons it.
I get out of the bed and run quickly to our kitchenette. It’s a small, narrow room off our living room. “It’s okay. It’s just a little crispy on the edges.” I take a minute to catch myself. I feel a little raw around the edges.
It was just a massage.
Rory comes into the kitchen and takes three plates and a pitcher of water. I keep my head down and carry the lasagna back to the table. We both sit at the table, next to each other. I steal a glance at him, and he catches my look. His face is more relaxed already, and his shirt isn’t fully buttoned up.
I roll my neck and shoulders, which are stiff from sitting and writing all day.
He smiles, his dimple in his cheek appearing, and then he leans slightly over to knead the back of my neck. I let my head fall forward to give him access.
Zelda sets down a carton of cut-up pineapple and some bowls and joins us at the table. She pours the water while I serve the lasagna to the three of us.
“Hello, you two lovebirds.” Zelda takes a bite of lasagna.
“I told Zelda,” I say to Rory.
“How’s Theresa?” Zelda asks.
“She seems like she’ll make a full recovery,” I say. “But she wants me to create window displays for the store and help with marketing. I agreed to do that.”
“Really? Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rory asks. “I mean, you’re going to be giving up valuable writing time, and maybe this is all part of Theresa’s plot to get you to take over the store permanently and to give up on writing.”
“I don’t think that’s Theresa’s goal anymore.”
“Yes, it is.” He puts down his fork. “She always asks you if you have a deadline for how long you’re going to try this and whether you’re making enough money with miniatures. I’ve been there when she’s given you the lecture on being realistic about pursuing your dreams.”
“Yes, but now she says the store is in trouble and she can’t compete. This is a last-ditch effort. But she did ask me again if I want to take it over. Mostly she wants me to get a ‘real job’ and write on the side.”
“I just think Jamie should be the one stepping up and giving up his time to help the store,” he says. “Not you.”
Zelda harrumphs in agreement.Okay, I agree, too.But then, I’m the one who needs the store job as a backup plan. Jamie doesn’t.
I reach over and squeeze his hand. “I appreciate so much that you believe in me and you don’t think I’m crazy for pursuing this writing career.”
“You’re good. And I’m not even speaking from my admitted bias. Your story in our college literary magazine just blew me away,” he says. “And I’m not the only one who was impressed by that piece.”
“That piece” was about my parents’ death in a plane crash on a wedding anniversary second honeymoon in Peru. But now I’m not writing about those dark moments. I’m trying to write light comedy, not dwell in the dark.
“Anyway, Jamie is quitting his job and coming home, so heisgoing to take over. So, he’s taking the pressure off of me to step up for Theresa,” I say.
“Jamie is quitting his job and coming back to New York?” Rory asks sharply.
“So he says. I’ll believe it when I see it.” I don’t tell him that Jamie also said he’d break up with Willow. “I have this great idea for the October window display. I want to create a ghost and skeleton and keep the running mannequin that’s already there but add a sign saying, ‘Outrun the Halloween ghouls and ghosts.’”
Zelda chuckles and Rory laughs. I love making Rory laugh. Sometimes I feel I write scenes, and I judge whether they are funny or not by whether Rory will laugh. Which is a difficult standard given that I’m writing for women and he’s a man—who reads thrillers.
