‘Sorry,’ I said to Jack who was walking close beside me. ‘This is going to take all day at this rate.’ I leant against a nearby scaffolding pole.
‘Just take it at your own pace,’ he replied then looked at me, his face alight with an idea. ‘In fact …’ and without another word he picked me up. I let out a sharp yelp of surprise and wrapped my arms around his neck. We looked at each other.
‘You can’t carry me like this all the way to my place. I weigh a tonne,’ I said.
‘You do not weigh a tonne,’ he laughed at the suggestion. ‘You’re practically in miniature.’ I wanted to react to this with a playful punch to the stomach – that’s the kind of thing you can do to someone you’ve met a whole three times in your life right? – but I’d neither the strength nor the angle. I settled for raising an eyebrow.
Jack began walking towards my room on Clinton Street as per my directions. Having his arms around me, well, it’d been a long time since anyone had put their arms around me like that. After what’d happened with Mr Delaney, I never expected to crave closeness. Not to a man, anyway. But I couldn’t deny the truth. At least, not in my own head. Some days my arms ached for the warmth of someone else’s. To, just for a moment, know I wasn’t on my own. That I didn’t need to be on guard because I was safe where I was. In quiet moments, I’d started to daydream about losing myself in the warmth of somebody else’s body. In the warmth of Jack’s body.
With this in mind I should’ve felt soothed by Jack’s embrace but the position was far too intimate for two people so unavailable to one another. Grooms carried brides over thresholds like this, and the proximity of his body to mine amplified my awkwardness. The whole time he was holding me I didn’t know where to put my head. If I kept it upright my face was too close to his. Our lips and noses brushing by each other. Then there was a moment of eye contact before nervousness got the better of me and I looked away. Leaning my head against his chest didn’t work either. There was something personal about the gesture. It didn’t feel like an OK thing to do knowing he was involved with someone else. So I alternated between the two arrangements. Switching the instant one of them became too intense.
Within ten minutes we reached my building. He lowered me back to street level. I held a hand against my head, trying to stay steady.
‘You sure you don’t want me to carry you up the stairs?’ He was dead serious.
I smiled. ‘You’ve been very chivalrous, but I think carrying me up the stairs would be bordering on showing off.’ He laughed while I thought about what I’d want to happen next if I let him carry me upstairs.
‘As I’ve carried you all this way, have I earned the right to ask you one question and get a straight answer?’
‘Alright. But you’ve got one question so use it wisely.’
That gave him pause. He opened his mouth and closed it again before posing his question.
‘I couldn’t help noticing that couple called you Mrs Delaney.’ He looked at me, his eyes expectant. As though that statement alone was enough to prompt me into spilling my story.
‘What’s the question?’
‘Are you…married?’ he asked. I looked at the ground. Tears swelled but I fought them. I took a deep breath, stared back at him. His frown had returned. He looked sorry for even asking the question.
‘No. I was once. But I’m not anymore.’ There. That wasn’t a lie. Not the whole truth but not a lie.
‘I’m sorry. I…’ He scratched his forehead dead in the centre. ‘I got married too. When I was younger. It didn’t work out. Makes it difficult to trust new people. And that, well, that can get pretty lonely.’ He took a step towards me.
‘Well,’ I said, part pleased by his assumption, part wishing I had the guts to tell him something closer to the truth, ‘I suppose everybody’s loved and lost,’ and then added, ‘I’m sort of trying to stop acting like I’m the first person in history to have it happen to them.’
‘I didn’t realise.’ He bowed his head. ‘God. I shouldn’t have called you…’ He took another step forward.
‘A psycho?’ I shuffled on the spot.
He opened his mouth to say something but the words stuck in his throat. Staring into each other’s eyes, we cut through our awkwardness with short, nervous laughter.
‘I’m sorry. I’ve had some bad…’ He stopped and pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Please, just forget I said that.’
‘Yeah. Sure.’ I gave him a frail smile. ‘Thanks for getting me home.’ Turning then, I walked up the steps to the front door, fumbled for my keys.
‘So I’ll see you around. In the diner maybe,’ he called, stood at the bottom of the steps with his hands in his pockets. He looked so humble, not at all like someone who was about to get their big break in the movies.
‘Yeah. Well, you and Angela are going to the hop, aren’t you?’
‘Oh, er…yes.’ He glanced down at the pavement.
‘Guess I’ll see you then, if not before.’ I gave him a nod and scurried inside, pushing the door shut behind me. Leaning back against it, I let out a heavy sigh. My head throbbed, my mind flitting back to the moments I’d spent in Jack’s arms. Best not to get dejected or anxious about how overpowering the need to be close to him now was. He was with Angela and that was for the best. For everyone. Yes, I’d been lonely the past couple of years. Being on my own hadn’t proved as easy as I thought but what was the alternative? Getting close to someone? Losing myself a second time? No. If I let that happen again, I may never find my way back.
An assembly line of familiar faces awaited at the diner the next day, including Jack and Angela. All of them in earlier than usual, guaranteeing a front row seat at the counter.
‘Mornin’,’ Mona said with obvious weight.
‘Good morning.’ I smiled. ‘Anybody need their order taking?’
‘Yes. I’ve got an order here for an explanation about what happened yesterday.’ Mona put her head on one side, and leaned in towards me.
‘Can’t I at least get a cup of coffee down me before the interrogation begins?’ I yawned. I’d been awake most of the night with my throbbing head.
Mona laughed. ‘Not sure I can stretch to that, it’s been bad enough waitin’ this long. You really gonna make us speculate any longer? C’mon.’
‘It’s a dull story. I warn you now. Total anti-climax.’
Oh Esther, you liar.
‘Let us be the judge of that.’ Mona rested on a high stool stood behind the counter and looked at me, waiting. I took a deep breath and thought about what to say. Where to begin. How little I could get away with telling them.
‘You were a teacher,’ said Walt. I looked at him, picked up a coffee jug and topped up his drink before answering.
‘I used to teach literature. Back in England.’
‘That explains the crossword clues.’ I shook my head. For Walt, that was the most significant enigma of all when it came to me. A waitress who read for pleasure was a species completely beyond his imagination.
‘You got me stumped, Esther,’ said Mona. ‘If you can teach about Shakespeare what in the world are you doin’ sweeping floors and makin’ milkshakes? If I could teach