Randall:I don’t deserve your text but thank you. How are you?
Elise:I didn’t sleep a wink. You?
Randall:I had your pillow so I managed a few hours.
That makes me smile. He’s so earnest about how he feels about me. Honest. It was a rough conversation last night, but it was honest.
Randall:Can I call you?
I call him myself.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“I don’t have much time, but I wanted to hear your voice and tell you how sorry I am.” He sounds wretched.
“I’m sorry, too,” I say, humbled by the relief that our fight didn’t carry over to today. “I shouldn’t have been so defensiveevery time you brought up my job. Or my lack of a job.”
“Elise, you don’t have a job because you have a calling. A passion. Never apologize for that.”
“I love you, Randall.”
“I love you, too. I can’t believe how much I pushed. I should have listened to you instead of forcing a conversation you weren’t ready to have. It’s a shock, even for me. Part of me couldn’t believe a trade would happen right as my life with you is beginning. Should have known better. Should have prepared you for the possibility. I’m sorry.”
“Randall, can you do me a favor?”
“Anything, baby.”
“Can that be the last time you say sorry about last night?”
He chuckles and says yes.
“What time are you finished?”
“About four, since I have to sign papers with my agent after practice. Will you be home?”
“I’ll be home.”
I use that time to see if I can salvage the empty boxes I used when moving in. There are also all the books due to the library that I don’t want to get lost in the shuffle. I return those on my way to getting steak and vegetables for dinner.
One of our last dinners together in this home.
I’m tossing a salad when Randall lets himself in. There’s a half second of complete and utter stillness.
And then it breaks.
Randall annihilates the distance with two big steps, and I launch myself at him. We hug as tight as we can. Our bodies are fused, though it isn’t sexual at all. We’re clinging like the other person is a life raft.
He chants my name over and over, kissing my hair and inhaling my neck. I do the same, filling my senses with Randall like I’m hoarding the sensations that make me feel safe andloved. Storing them not only in my mind but also in my pores, my fingers, my heart. Every inch of me is its own memory bank.
We don’t speak, both weary of the mistakes we made yesterday. Instead, we let our kisses do the talking. The real message is our love. It speaks loud and clear: nothing changes how much we mean to each other.
He brings me to the sofa where I straddle him so we’re face to face.
“I would have gotten here earlier, but I got stopped by a cop for speeding.”
“You got a speeding ticket?”
