Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46858 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Then I glance at the clock and realize it’s my next one-on-one. Time flows far too quickly when my woman’s involved.
I have to go, I text. But we’ll talk later.
“You seem distracted,” Mary says, stirring her coffee.
I’ve been looking around the cafeteria.
I know Della went home. I know there’s no chance I’ll see her, but I still keep hoping she’ll somehow appear.
I’ll look up and, like magic, she’ll be there.
Then I’ll rush over and pull her into my arms, not caring that the teachers can see the students, anybody.
“Maybe a little,” I reply after a pause.
Della texted me when she got home, but I hadn’t heard anything in a few hours. After everything we talked about, it’s got my mind spinning. I feel like I’m speculating on a particularly chaotic stock with no notion of whether it will rise or fall.
Is Della alone, thinking of a way to tell me softly but firmly that we have to stop?
“Care to share?” Mary asks.
I shrug. “It’s a personal thing.”
Mary’s eyebrows shoot up. “A personal thing?”
“What’s so shocking about that?”
“We’ve worked together for four years, and this is the first time I’m hearing about a personal life.”
I laugh gruffly. We’ve talked about my hobbies, trips with friends, and stock work. But she’s right.
We don’t discuss real personal matters.
“I can’t explain it,” I tell her. “If the wrong person found it, I’d be gone.”
She narrows her eyes. “That’s made me far more curious. I can’t imagine you’ve done anything wrong.”
“It depends on how you define wrong.”
I take a sip of my black coffee, letting the caffeine rush around my body. It jolts me alert, vignettes coming to me from nowhere, of all the ways I’d protect my woman, my Della, the words I’d use to keep her safe, the violence I’d employ if that’s what it took.
It’s like all this energy is crackling inside of me, bursting for a release.
“Unless it’s something immoral, Elias, I wouldn’t tell anybody. And I can’t imagine you doing anything like that.”
“Again, it depends on how you define the word.”
She crosses her chest. “I won’t tell a soul.”
I grit my teeth, waiting for my phone to vibrate in my pocket. I’ve never wanted a text so badly, never thought I could be in a place like that.
Where is she? What is she doing?
Is she okay?
That’s my main concern, though I know it’s probably pointless. She’s busy, maybe working, maybe studying. She doesn’t owe me constant communication.
But horrible images touch me, bad stuff happening to her, with me sitting here, doing nothing to save her.
It’s my job to save her.
“Elias?” Mary prompts.
“Okay.” I lean forward, lowering my voice. “Let’s say I have a friend. Call him Erik.”
Mary touches the intricate weave of her hair, then starts fiddling with her wedding ring. “Okay.”
“And let’s say this friend works at a college. He’s never been interested in any of the students before. He’s never been interested in any woman, really. But now he’s finally found somebody. He wants her. Needs her, you could say.”
There’s no could about it, but I have to hold some of this back.
“She’s showing attraction toward him too. He doesn’t just want physical stuff. He doesn’t want to use her. He wants….”
“A relationship?” Mary says, looking at me closely, wearing her counselor face.
“Yeah. And he thinks she might too. Is that wrong?”
“How old is she?” Mary asks.
“Twenty,” I say.
Mary sits back. “And how long have you… has Erik been seeing her?”
I think back to the woman on the bus, the angel who glided by me, who changed everything.
“Roughly a week. But things are moving fast. In a good way. The best.”
Mary sits back, interlocking her fingers. I can imagine her sitting like this in her one-on-one counseling sessions and it’s difficult to tell what she’s thinking.
Whatever it is, it won’t change how I feel.
Nothing could do that.
But it might give me some perspective.
“This is a new feeling for Erik, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I laugh gruffly. “You could even say….”
She doesn’t prompt me to keep talking, just keeps staring. It’s the sort of look which invites me to continue, which makes it difficult not to continue.
“It’s the best feeling he’s ever experienced. He enjoys his job, but he’s not sure it’s worth keeping if it means he can’t even be with his woman.”
“His woman?” Mary asks. “That’s how he thinks of her already?”
I look at her flatly, refusing to mask this part. “Yes, it is.”
“Has he told her that?”
“No,” I admit. “He hasn’t. I haven’t. Screw the games, Mary.”
She nods, not missing a beat. “Why haven’t you told her?”
“Because she’d think I was crazy.”
“And this thought that this woman is yours after a week, do you think it makes you crazy?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” I run a hand through my hair. “She’s all I can think about. She’s the only person I ever wanted…the only one I’ve ever wanted.”