The Girl in the Comfortable Quiet (6 page)

I laugh. “I don’t know, Linda. You seem to have
everything worked out for the both of us.”

“How are you feeling this morning?”

“Good. Sorry I slept so late and left you to fend
for breakfast yourself.”

“Well, last night was probably a later night than
you’re used to,” she says in an amused, heavy-with-meaning kind of way.

I tense. I reach for my coffee and take a sip. Her
expression screams
fess up
. She sighs, frustrated by me.

“Manny called me around 4 a.m. Woke me up. Said
you went silent in the middle of a phone call with him. Had me check on you to
make sure you were OK.”

Crap.
Why isn’t anything with Alan
ever private? The last thing I want is anyone to know I called him, even though
I am more relieved than I should be that we finished the call in a good place.

“Oh,” is my only response.

“
Oh
? That’s all you have to say about
that?”

“Fuck, Linda, what do you want me to say? I
called him to thank him for the gifts. We talked for a while. I fell asleep.
End of story.”

“End of story, huh?”

I meet her stare for stare. “Yes.”

She purses her lips and looks away. “Fine. Be
that way.”

I ignore that comment and focus on finishing my
muffin. Abruptly, she sits forward, her face brightening. “There. He’s coming
back. Oh my.”

Jesse waves up at me. I wave back and Linda
watches him in an oh-so-obvious way until he’s out of view.

She sinks back into her chair. “Do you have his
number?”

“Linda, you’re terrible. Of course I don’t have
his phone number. I don’t ask for phone numbers from single men. I’m married.”

She turns in her chair, making a face at me. “You
asked for Manny’s.”

I look away, shaking my head. Nope. Not
responding to that one either.

Linda sinks back into her chair. “You should get
Jesse’s number, Chrissie. Before I leave. In case you have an emergency. He’s
the only one who lives up here with you,” she says, serious out of nowhere and
take-charge again.

~~~

A
week later, I walk Linda to the front door. She takes me in a firm, breezy hug,
then steps back and lays her hand against my cheek.

“Thank you for having me, Chrissie. We should do
this more often. I had a wonderful time.”

“Me, too.” It’s the truth. I smile. I don’t know
how or why, but we now feel like the closest of friends. Weird. I don’t how it
happened. But it feels good. Really, really good.

She does a fast look around the room as if
working through some sort of mental checklist.

“I cooked meals and froze them for you. I cleaned
up my room. Jack is right. You should hire a housekeeper soon. Being in this
house alone so much of the time is not good, Chrissie. And I put together a
call list for when this little one decides to say hello to us all.” She pats my
belly and her face takes on a faint glow. “Oh, and Jesse’s number is now on the
front contact list with mine for emergencies. Have I forgotten anything?”

I laugh. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’ve
done so much. Been such a big help.”

She takes my face in her palms. “I love you,
Chrissie,” she says in an intense, emotional way that takes me by surprise.

“See you soon, Linda.”

I wave as she climbs into her car and watch as
she drives away. We had a pleasant week, and yet out of nowhere everything is
moving through me, rattling and loose and uncomfortable. Linda is always
randomly intense. I don’t know why it bothers me. Maybe it’s just me. Even when
things feel good, sometimes they feel really, really strange.

CHAPTER FIVE

January
1995

I
lie on the couch holding the phone against my belly, listening to Neil sing to
Kaley. My smile grows large as my heart flutters. It’s so cute how he does this
every day with her, his own little father-daughter ritual.

I put the phone back up to my ear. “Nope,
nothing. Not even an elbow punching me. Don’t take it personally. She is very
quiet today. Probably in there plotting something.”

“She’s all right, isn’t she? Shouldn’t she still
be jumping around in there?” Neil sounds worried.

I clumsily turn onto my side. “She was active
this morning. But I think she’s frustrated and has given up trying to turn.”

Neil laughs. “I hope she stays frustrated and
stays in there until I’m home on the twentieth.”

I hear the call-waiting beep for about the tenth
time since this two-hour call with Neil began. Annoyed, I wait for the
interruption to end and then say, “My due date isn’t until the twenty-fifth.
Doctor says I’m on track. Our timing isn’t going to suck, Neil. It’s going to
work perfectly. I just know it.”

“I hope so.” He sounds tired and anxious.

“I know so.”

“You’re moving down to Jack’s tomorrow, right?”

Change of course. Nice one, Neil. Slipping that
one in when I’m really missing you and really liking you so I won’t be
irritated at you making me do this.

“Yes. I’m packed. Jack’s picking me up in the
morning. I will stay with Jack until you’re home again. I told you I would. I’m
doing it. Happy, Neil?”

“Very happy. More than you know.” He yawns. “I’m
tired of the road, Chrissie. I’m ready to be home. I wish the break were for longer
than two weeks.”

“Me, too.”

He sighs. “When I come off the road, when this
tour is done, I’m not going back. Not ever. I’m going to live like you. A
hermit on the mountain. Just make love to my wife and play with my little
girl.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” I whisper, though I
know it’s just emotion-inspired bullshit. “I think the guys and Ernie and the
label will have other plans, though.”

“Fuck them. I’m not doing it again. Not after
this tour.”

I stare at my copy of
Time
magazine lying
on the coffee table, Neil’s face right there on the glossy cover. He’s gone
mainstream. Jack is right, Neil is a business now, and there is no turning back
from there. His career has been like a fast-moving rocket since our marriage.
He’s everywhere. Print. TV. Magazines. Arctic Hole’s music is on the top of all
the
Billboard
charts. Success only means he will be on the road more. I
know it and so does Neil. But it’s sweet when he says things like that, and I
almost believe him, even though we both know it’s never going to happen. Not
ever.

I smile. “I should let you go. You sound tired.”

He exhales. “I am tired. I’ve been awake thirty
hours straight.”

“Then go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to hang up. I miss you too much.”

I laugh. “Then I’ll hang up for the both of us.
You’re tired and I’ve got to pee.”

“Oh well. I’m not even going to try to change
your mind on that one.” He laughs. “Talk to you soon, baby.”

“Talk to you soon, Neil.”

I click off the phone, toss it down, and fight my
way off the sofa and onto my feet. I move toward the bathroom. The phone starts
ringing. Crap. It’s probably whoever was beeping while I was talking to Neil.
Blocked number. I hate that. Nope, not delaying the bathroom for Mr. Incredibly
Rude Blocked Number.

When I leave the bathroom, I go into my bedroom
just to make sure I’ve grabbed everything I’m going to need while at Jack’s. I
carefully lower to sit on the floor and starting poking through my bags.

There’s a knock on the door. I exhale loudly. I
grab hold of the edge of the dresser, pulling myself back on my feet while the
voice in my head tells me to just
ignore the door.

It’s not a mystery who it is. I only get two
visitors here: the mailman and Jesse Harris. Usually it’s the big excitement of
the day, but as I lumber down the hallway I’m hoping it’s the mailman and not
Jesse. The mailman leaves quicker. Jesse likes to chat.

God, I’m tired today. Neil is right about moving
in with Jack. Everything is just a little harder this month. A little more
tiring. But I’m not going to tell Neil that.

I grab the banister and climb the short flight of
stairs to the foyer. I try to get the latch to turn on the thick wood front
door. Darn heavy security bolt. I should never have let Jack send someone up
here to install it. I can never get the damn thing to turn.

“Just a minute,” I yell through the wood and,
frustrated, I go to the garage, hit the door button and wait for it to lift.

I find a Harley parked in my driveway. Startled,
I step out into the light.

My heart stops. I’m held in an intense black
stare.

Alan is standing on my front steps dressed in
leather biker gear, long black hair messed by the wind, rich olive skin with
just the right amount of sun hue, and looking as sexy and beautiful as ever.  

“Hello, Chrissie.” His voice is cool, his
expression nondescript, and his eyes hooded and impossible to read. What is
Alan doing here? My emotions take off in a hundred directions, from worried to
thrilled to dread to happier than I should feel at this moment of seeing him
again. Vaguely, I’m aware of how I must look to him. Frazzled and fat, not at
all attractive, but at least I dressed cute today in a short blue sundress and
I did do my hair.

“I tried to call,” he explains dryly.

I flush. Crap, that was him beeping in during my
call with Neil. And double crap, how long have I been standing here staring at
him? Say something quickly, Chrissie. Say something funny.
Humor is the
only thing that is going to get me through this unexpected, extremely awkward
change to my day.

I shake my head. “I’m sorry to just stare at you.
I was expecting someone else. You’re not the FedEx man.”

A few seconds of silence pass then Alan laughs.
Some of the tension between us wanes.

“I hope you’re not disappointed.” He doesn’t
smile, but there is a slight upward curl to the edge of his lips and his gaze
softens.

I can’t stop myself. I smile. “Definitely not
disappointed. You win over the FedEx man any day of the week.”

The second the words are out I wish I could make
them disappear. I wanted to sound calm, in control, as poised as Alan is in
every circumstance. Instead, I said a stupid thing and spoke it in a lame,
flirty kind of way.
Damn, Chrissie, damn.

Alan crosses the driveway toward me and I’m not
sure what to do next. We ended our call, I think, on our way to being friends.
It doesn’t clarify how I should behave with him now.

Do I kiss him on the cheek? Do I give him a fast
hug? Do I just invite him in? Which one correctly says friends?

Before I can figure this out, he leans in to put
a quick peck on my forehead. It reminds me of the silly kiss he gave me in
Jack’s studio the day we met. Barely touching, fleeting, and yet potently him.
I stare up as he pulls back, wondering if he’s thinking about that as well.

He gestures toward the open foyer door. “May I
come in?” he asks, his eyes now betraying just a hint of his amusement over me.

“Of course you can come in,” I say, laughing,
pleased that my voice is sounding normal again. “What are you doing here?”

He follows me into the house. “I’ve got some time
off. I decided on a road trip up the coast. It didn’t seem right to pass Santa
Barbara and not stop and see you, Chrissie. I did try to call first. But then I
thought, fuck it, I’ll just stop.”

I don’t even want to try to figure out how he
knows where I live or why he’s decided to just descend without warning. I shut
the door so he can’t see my face. “I’m glad you did.”

“Then I am, too. I wasn’t sure if this was OK with
you in the driveway.”

When I turn toward him, I realize he’s been
watching me. “No. It’s nice to see you, Alan.”

I let out a breath. I said that with just the
right hint of welcome and reserve.

His eyes move over me like a wandering caress.
“You look beautiful, Chrissie. Are you doing well?”

My cheeks turn deep red over the compliment. “I’m
doing really well, Alan.”

“It’s soon, isn’t it?” he asks, in that
happy
for you
way.

“Two weeks.”

He smiles, and his stare pauses on my middle.
It’s nothing new. Everyone fixes their eyes on my baby bump at some point, but Alan
doing it makes me feel grossly uncomfortable.

I change course. “Would you like some coffee? Or
something to drink? I don’t keep a lot of booze in the house but I’m pretty
sure I have scotch somewhere.”

He smiles at me. “No. I’m not staying long. I
don’t want to be a bother.”

He starts moving around my living room—
shit, I
wish I could drink—
and I amble down the stairs to join him in my
embarrassingly slow way.

He’s staring out the wall of glass. He looks over
his shoulder at me. “Interesting place to live.”

I laugh at the way he says
interesting
.
“Not exactly a comment I’ve not heard before. Some people think we’re crazy to
live up here. Linda definitely does. And other people think it’s perfect.”

He smiles and turns back to the glass. “I don’t
think you’re crazy and I don’t think it’s perfect either. I understand why you
live here. You can stare at everything you love, always, and never have to risk
being a part of it. So you, Chrissie.”

My heart freezes. A subtly put jibe at me and how
I screwed up our relationship. Direct hit. Trepidation over him being here now
wins over all other emotion.

“Actually, I picked this house for Neil. He loves
it on the mountain surrounded by forest. We both do.”

I retreat from him to the only chair in the
living room I can still get out of quickly. I sink down and wait for Alan to
follow. I watch him as he settles himself in his own uniquely graceful way on
my sofa.

His gaze moves around the room. It pauses at my
coffee table and locks on the magazines there. “Neil is certainly all the talk
these days.”

“Neil hates being on that cover. He thinks it
makes him commercial. Mainstream. He hates the publicity. And definitely that
cover.”

Alan arches a brow. “Mainstream is good.
Commercial is good. That’s where the money is. I’m glad for your sake that
things for Neil are going well.”

It sounds like he means it. But there is a slight
edge to his voice I can’t read.

It seems like I should say something about
him
.
“You’re looking good, Alan.”

He smiles. “I’m off the road for a year. It feels
good to just be someplace for a while.”

He sounds slightly impatient over something.
Restless being here with me, even if he looks relaxed and at ease. He stands
and my heart skips a beat as I wonder if he’s leaving so soon. Slowly, almost
leisurely, he starts roaming around the room again.

He pauses at the fireplace. He looks at me. “Jack
doing well?”

Neutral topic. Benign pleasantries. “You know
Jack. He’s always doing well.”

That earns me one of those smiles, the kind that
never fails to shoot straight to my heart. I’m feeling flustered and fretting
over why he’s here again. Maybe Alan is as unsure as I am the current state of
us. Maybe he’s waiting for me to clarify things.

“I meant what I said on the phone,” I tell him.
“About wanting us to be friends. I meant that, Alan.”

“Me, too.” His voice is nearly silent, breathy
and unthreatening. His gaze, however, is intense and the effect travels all
through me. “I should probably go.”

His words take me by surprise and disappointment
shoots through me in an impossible-to-ignore way. I don’t want him to go. I
don’t even know why he visited me.

He crosses the room as if to kiss me goodbye. I
stare up at him, blinking. “Can I ask you something before you go, Alan?”

He pauses and his expression changes, becoming
something more accessible. “You can ask me anything, Chrissie. Always.”

The voice inside my head says
don’t do this
but I’ve wondered and we didn’t talk about that on the phone and having him
here, now, and me
this
way makes it painfully present inside me.

“Why did you go to Jack’s party to see me?” I ask
in a rush before I lose my nerve. “What did you want to tell me in the pool
house, Alan?”

I take in a steadying breath of air and wait.
Alan smiles, unruffled by the questions, and lightly brushes my cheek with a
thumb. “It doesn’t matter, Chrissie. Not now. Not for either of us.”

What the heck does that mean? I stare up at him.
“It matters to me.”