Seven Days (3 page)

“Oh Jules, no! I’m sorry. It’s not like that at all. I
was just thinking that I had roped you into it when Rhys left. I figured you’d
be more than happy to be let off the hook.”  Carolyn rounded the table and
wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I love running with you. You know
that.”

He loved it, too, and the thought that it would end made
him realize how much he enjoyed starting his day with her. “I know. How could
you not?” he asked, easing the unnecessary awkwardness. “How far did you go
this morning?”

“Not far actually. I’m meeting Mark this morning, so I
couldn’t really go far, but I wanted to get a little exercise in before we went
out. Speaking of that,” she stood up and put her bowl in the sink, “I need to
hit the shower.”

“Yeah, you don’t want to keep Mark waiting.”

Luke stood up and straightened his clothes. They had been
lazing around all day, but time was getting away. “I gotta go. I was going to put
in some overtime at the studio today.”

“Me too,” Julian grabbed his keys off the table, “I need
to go over to Milan’s and see if she’s talking to me.”

Rhys went upstairs as they headed for the front door.
Luke reached for the knob as the doorbell rang. He opened the door to Cera’s
smiling face.

“Look who! What happened to you last night?”

“Hi Luke,” she said, brushing a brief kiss on his cheek.
“I’m sorry. I meant to meet up with you guys but it just wasn’t meant to be.
I’ll tell you about it later. Is Rhys here?” she asked as they passed through
the door.

“He’s upstairs,” Julian said and shut the door behind
him.

Left to his own devices, Rhys wandered the house trying
to re-acclimate himself to being back home. He moved at a leisurely pace, and
it was true he was tired, but it was more the pace of a man who has all the
time in the world. It was the pace of a man who was trying to slow things down.

He slid his hand along the uneven surface of the wood
railing as he walked up the stairs. Every indentation, each blemish was a scar
from the past that brought back a memory of his childhood. Skimming over a
narrow divot, Rhys recalled chasing Luke down the stairs only to slip and fall
tooth first into the rail.  He rubbed his thumb into a smooth hollow and remembered
Carolyn’s tears as he watched their mother remove a splinter from her thumb.
Later, Carolyn had patiently rubbed a sheet of sandpaper over the offending
area with silent determination until it was smooth. At the top of the stairs,
Rhys spun the now detachable knob on the post that Luke had broken off and then
tried to fix with gobs of gum.

Funny the things you remember.

His room was at the end of the hall next to Carolyn's. He
automatically started to step lightly as he passed his parents’ door so that he
wouldn’t wake them until it hit him that they weren’t there. He hadn’t
forgotten...it just still managed to catch him unawares at times.

He stopped in front of their door and then decided to go
in. Turning on the light switch, Rhys glanced quickly at the bed almost
expecting to see them lying there catching up on sleep after a late engagement.

The room had an air of expectancy to it. A pair of
slippers sat neatly together on the floor as if his mother had just now stepped
out on an errand and would be back momentarily. There was an open book lying on
the bed, its last-read page hastily marked by an envelope. On his mother’s
bureau was an empty glass standing next to her favorite photo of Rhys. He could
almost see her standing there looking at it with that glass in her hand. She
liked order. Something must have interrupted her and she’d left the glass
behind to attend to it.

Rhys reached out to pick up the framed photo when he saw
movement out of the corner of his eye. Distracted, he knocked the glass over
sending it to a shattering end.

“Hi,” Cera said sheepishly from the doorway, “Sorry, I
didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Hey there, Cera,” Rhys bent down to clear away the
broken glass. “Where’d you come from?”

Cera leaned against the doorpost with a mischievous smile
on her face and adjusted the folds of her multicolored print dress,
“Downstairs—and I’m telling.”

“You would,” Rhys glanced up at her, “I may have to kill
you,” he said, deadpan.

“Will you give me a hug first?”

Rhys pondered her question as he gathered the larger
pieces of glass together and placed them atop the bureau.

“What do you say we get out of here first and then I’ll
think about it?” He motioned for Cera to go ahead of him and then closed the
door behind them. Before she could turn around, he grabbed her from behind and
squeeze tight. Cera squealed with unexpected delight as she tried to squirm her
way loose.

“You’re crazy!”

“So I’ve been told. Where were you last night?” he
started in right away on her.

“Oh,” she groaned, breaking free of his hold, “I knew you
wouldn’t let me off the hook.” Linking her arm with his, she led him the rest
of the way down the hall to his room. He’d forgotten how tall she was.

“I actually couldn’t help it. I had a flat tire and
roadside service took forever to get to me. So I just went back home when they
were done. Anyway,” she waved her hands as if dismissing the incident and
started rattling off greetings, “Welcome home! It’s good to have you back! We
missed you—all the things I would have told you had I actually seen you last
night.”

“Well, thank you. I’m sorry you had such a bad night. I
missed you, too.”

“Aww, go on. You didn’t even notice I wasn’t there.”

He’d noticed. He’d been waiting for her all night. “Not
true. We could have used your calming presence,” he said and gave her a quick
summary of the night, pausing periodically to wait for Cera’s giggles to die
down as he described the evening’s events.

“I’m trying to picture Milan alone at the bar. I’m so
sorry I missed it. All the good stuff happens when I’m not around. I’m going to
have to do something about that.” She reached up to adjust the scarf she wore
in hair. It managed to hold back just enough of her halo of golden brown curls
to allow her a clear view of her face.

“We’ll have to make up for it tonight. Okay?”

“Okay. What are we going to do?” she asked without
hesitating.

“I have no idea. But I am sure we can find some trouble
to get into.”

Julian could only guess at Milan’s mood. He hadn’t spoken
to her since the night before. He waited patiently for her to open the door
while holding the two packages of Chinese food he’d picked up on the way over
to her apartment. He was greeted with loud silence. “Hi,” he said.

She looked him over for a few seconds, taking in the bags
he was holding, her hand still on the knob. “What’s this?”

“Dinner.”

She raised an eyebrow, swung the door open, turned and
went down the hall leaving Julian standing alone in the doorway. He walked
inside and kicked the door shut with his foot. “This is going to be a fun
night,” he muttered.

He placed his packages on the dining table and then
followed the sound of the television down the hall and into her bedroom, where
he found her propped up in the bed staring at the screen.  She didn’t bother
to acknowledge his presence at all, so he decided to make himself comfortable.
He removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed. Her eyes focused on the
discarded item for a second and then returned to the screen.

He plopped down crosswise at the end of the bed so that
he was laying perpendicular to her with her feet touching his stomach. He got
little response even though he was now right in front of her and she had to
look past him to see the TV. He turned his head to see what she was watching.
Julia Robert’s recognizable smile flashed across the screen.

Oh God,
Pretty Woman
.

He took a deep breath and turned back to Milan. She had
been watching him but crossed her legs at the ankles and looked away when he
turned around. He continued his efforts to force a response from her. He put
his left hand on her shin and slowly started to rub her leg. She ignored him
and he decided to try a different strategy.

“Do you want to eat in here or in the living room?”

“Who says I want to eat at all?”

“I brought your favorite. Chicken lo mein. I even got
chopsticks.”

No response.

“Hey, you remember that time when we went to that Chinese
restaurant and we—”

“I am trying to watch a movie, Julian. Do you not see the
TV on?”

“Yeah, I see it,” he said, “I also know that you’ve seen
this movie a hundred times and can recite it verbatim from memory backwards.”

Milan rolled her eyes and reached for the remote control
to raise the volume. Julian grabbed her wrist and held it against the bed. “You
are obviously mad at me. Why don’t you just go ahead and tell me in words what
you’re trying so hard to say in actions.”

“Let go of my arm, Julian,” she tried to pull away but
couldn’t. “Julian! Let me go!”  He relaxed his grip and let her pull away.

“God, you are such a jerk!”

“There you go,” he said smiling, “let me have it.”

“Do you know what time it is?” she picked up the little
alarm clock that was on her night table and tossed it at him. “I could have
been dead for all you care!”

“You’re not dead. Geez!”

“You left me at that bar last night to find my own way
home.  Did you even wonder how I got home?” she asked. “Then you come in
here with greasy food, demanding that I eat?” she stopped and waited for an
answer. “What is that?”

“It’s me trying to apologize.”

“Yeah, it’s working,” she said with obvious sarcasm.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

She was quiet for a few minutes. “You left me at the
bar.”

“I know.”

There was no excuse for what he did, no words to make it
better.

“How could you do that? And why?”

Julian didn’t know how to answer. “I was in a bad mood. I
don’t know.”

She looked at the screen, unhappy with his non-answer.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You know I’m sorry.”

“All I know is that that hooker,” she pointed to the
television, “gets more respect from her boyfriend than I do from mine!”

They sat in silence for a while. Julian couldn’t think of
anything to say because there was a note of truth in her words.  Leaving
her at the bar like that was a pretty ignorant thing to do. He didn’t even know
why she had gotten on his nerves so much last night, only that she had. Now,
coming over here with bags of Chinese food to appease her, he felt like the
jerk she accused him of being.

She was right, too. Sure he knew now that Luke had taken
her home, but last night he hadn’t even thought about it. She had disappeared
and he had dismissed her. Shining a light on it at this moment, he was really
surprised that he hadn’t even thought about her. He had assumed she was okay
and went on with his evening.

Milan had turned her attention back to the movie.
Onscreen, Richard Gere was timidly climbing up the fire escape to Julia with a
rose in his mouth. Julian watched Richard declare his love for the hooker with
a heart of gold. What am I doing?

Milan hit the rewind button on the remote and the VCR
started whirring. She got out of the bed and left the room, disgust written all
over her face. He found her in the dining room forking lo mein noodles into a
plate. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on
her left shoulder.

“I am truly sorry, Milan,” he apologized again. “You are
one hundred-percent correct. I behaved badly and I’m sorry I left you.” She
leaned into him a little. “And I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” he hugged her a
little tighter. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

They clung to each other for a few minutes. Milan heard
genuine remorse in Julian’s voice and felt it in the way he was holding her,
but she was worried. How could he have just left her there last night? He
hadn’t even called to see if she was okay.  It took him all day to make
any kind of effort to contact her.  She was his fiancée! They were getting
married in less than a week.

Milan turned around in his arms, “I know you think I’m
overreacting—and I probably am,” she began, “but I don’t understand why you
were so upset with me and quite frankly I’m a little hurt by your apparent lack
of concern. I mean, Julian, we’re getting married soon. Is this what I have to
look forward to?”

He gave her the respect of maintaining eye contact as she
spoke and she saw the impact her words had on him. She was absolutely right and
she knew he knew it, yet instead of admitting that, he dodged the issue.

“Please don’t make this into something bigger that it
is.  Yes, I overreacted to something you said. Honestly, I think it had
more to do with Rhys than with you.”

“Rhys? What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure. I guess it’s just that now he’s back it’s
all becoming really real to me. We’re getting married. Rhys is my Best Man.
He’s here and it’s going to happen.”

She stiffened, “And that’s not good? What are you trying
to say? Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, no. Don’t misunderstand me,” his arms tightened
around her waist, locking her in place, “It is good. It’s great. It’s just that
I wanted everything and everyone to be happy last night. Perfect, particularly
for you, and it wasn’t turning out that way. I guess that turned me into Idiot
Julian.”

Good, he was finally starting to get it. “Big, dumb,
idiot Julian!” she agreed and saw the corners of his mouth twitch briefly.

“I took it out on you. I’m sorry,” he leaned down and
rested his forehead against hers, “forgive me?”

She nodded, “I guess so.”

He pulled her so that she was flush against him and they
swayed slightly together, he asking forgiveness, she giving it. They’d worked
it out. That’s what couples did, right? Even so, standing in her dining room
with the man she was going to marry, Milan was uneasy. She couldn’t deny the
feeling that Julian was having doubts and it was making her very nervous.