Page 12 of Touch of Fondness

“I have to go and let my friends know why I wasn’t showing up. Right? They’ll be worried about me.”

“Whydidn’tyou go? You never told me.”

“I’m getting off now. I’m going to call a locksmith and then my friends, so you’ll probably just get sent to the voice mail if you call again.” He hung up, even though he heard her call his name once more.

When she called back a few minutes later, he still hadn’t called the locksmith or texted Jayden. He hadn’t finished putting on his brace or taken the other one off. He just let it ring.

Chapter Five

Pembroke still hadn’t respondedto Brielle’s DM. Granted, it’d only been a day, but that wasn’t like her. Even when they never saw each other over the summers, she’d always responded by the next morning at the latest.

Brielle wanted so desperately to talk to someone about her big mistake with Archer. She wanted to vent about what a jerk he was, too, but mostly she just wanted someone to tell her it was okay and she’d made a mistake, but it would all be forgotten and it would soon be better.

She couldn’t tell her mom. Oh, no, she would be in so much trouble. Even if she wanted to confront her about notwarningher to begin with. But then she wondered if her mom had just been trying to be politically correct. Because it shouldn’t have mattered, right? It didn’t matter. Still, she just would have liked to have known. So she wouldn’t have kept embarrassing herself left and right with him.

Nora wouldn’t understand. And she was hardly outside of her room when home from school anyway.

And Lilac and Gavin had had so much to tell her about their own adventures—actual adventures, not this bs nothing-changed-in-my-life post-graduation existence Brielle was experiencing—that Brielle couldn’t find the right moment to add her own thoughts. Lilac was on cloud nine in Florida, even though she wouldn’t say much about the job itself, and Gavin loved the work, even if his co-workers were apparently almost as much of a drawback of his new life as living in close quarters with two very active roommates. To tell the truth, Brielle had started tuning them out after a while and let them chat back and forth on the thread while she browsed the Internet with a numb mind.

She’d spent the evening Googling how to interact with disabled people and felt stupid doing so. They were just people—Brielleknewthat—so what was there to know? How was she supposed to act any differently? Everything she read said she wasn’t basically. By offering to help him with his brace, she had violated that line of not treating him any differently—and plus, she didn’t know him well enough to offer to help with such an intimate gesture.

She’d meant well, but that didn’t matter.

Disheartened, Brielle had considered lying to her mom and asking for the next day off, but she knew that would open up a whole can of worms about responsibility and her job search—cripes, she hadn’t looked for a job since last week, assuring herself she was just excited about graduation and she could afford to take “some” time off—so she cleaned at Mrs. Tanaka’s (tuning the woman out most of the time) and her once-weekly clients’ in the morning, barely stomached a half salad for lunch, and then went to Archer’s, making sure to let herself in with the key. Her fist hesitated over the open door. Normally, she’d knock to announce her presence even after letting herself in, but maybe then he would think shehadn’tlet herself in and feel the need to come to the hallway, all bent out of shape and railing at her—

She took a deep breath. She was driving herself crazy. “Scrubbing Cherubs, here to shoot…” She let the motto die on her tongue. She really, really didn’t want him to hear her say that again.

But he wasn’t there. After all her worry, after all those derogatory thoughts about how he never left home (before she knew his situation), and he was gone on her second day.

He hadn’t left too much of a mess, so cleaning went fast and she was gone before he returned.

Wednesday evening Brielle spent applying for jobs. Mostly secretarial jobs. There was one at a museum several states away, but she wasn’t sure she could manage moving across country without first saving up more money. Then again, it wasn’t like she had a great shot anyway. In all her years at college, she hadn’t managed to figure out exactly what it was she wanted to do after, even if she’d ruled out a few things. So she never got the internships or forged the connections she needed to get a job like that.

She applied anyway, knowing she was simply sending the cover letter and resume into a void.

Thursday morning was her first morning back without stopping by Mrs. Tanaka’s and it was refreshingly peaceful not to have to speak to anybody before lunch. She thought about skipping lunch entirely and going for a walk in the nearby park—it’d been a long time since she’d done that—but her growling stomach had other ideas, even if it was still agitated by dread.

When she went to Archer’s and he wasn’t there again, she was partly relieved and partly puzzled. Although it was clearer than ever now how inappropriately she’d behaved—his absence seemed to attest to that—he shouldn’t have to avoid her in his own condo. If he’d called her mom to ask for a new maid, she was certain she’d hear of it, whether or not her mom could easily pull that off at the moment. No, he hadn’t registered a complaint. He’d just taken to leaving before she got there so he wouldn’t have to deal with her.

She was so certain she’d never see him again despite going to his condo practically every day that while cleaning the toilet, she actually screamed when she heard the sound of footsteps and a woman’s voice coming from the living area.

“…Hello? What?” A middle-aged woman wearing navy scrubs poked her head around the open door of the bathroom. “Are you… all right? Are you… Who are you?”

Brielle let go of the toilet brush. “Brielle,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m the cleaner.”

“…I told you I didn’t want to rush back, that there was someone—”

Archer wheeled into view behind the woman. He stared at Brielle for a moment and his face reddened as he looked down. “Yeah. The cleaning lady is here this time of day.”

“House cleaner,” said the woman, staring down at Archer like he was a child she was chastising.

“Sure, yeah.” Archer wheeled backward into the hallway. “Cleaner.”

The woman shook her head. “You have to forgive him. He’s woken up on the wrong side of the bed for the past ten thousand days.”

Whoa. Brielle’s eyes widened.

The woman chuckled and extended her hand. “I’m Pauline, Archer’s nurse.”

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