The Romance Novel Cure (20 page)

The next morning, Alma arrived at work a little early and checked her voicemail.

Hi, Alma. This is Daniel. Thanks for your message.
There was a pause. She imagined a lion holding a phone in its massive paw.
Probably too short notice, but turns out I’ll be done with work by two o’clock. Any chance I could come by around that time?
Another pause
. Anyway, no worries. Thanks.

Alma called back right away, getting his voicemail.
Hi Daniel, so sorry I missed your call. Yes, absolutely, today at two is great. I’ll see you whenever you get here, I’ll be in all afternoon. Thanks
. She left the address. As she ended the call, she wondered what kind of consultation he wanted. As she got ready to work, she realized something. She had arrived at work wondering if Daniel had called, wondering if Daniel was the guy she had accidentally painted. Wondering if it would be awkward if he did come into the office, wondering if he would even call. She hadn’t even thought about Ben, hadn’t needed to brace herself against seeing him. Then the door had opened, she had looked up, saw Ben’s smile and that was it. Her heart seemed to simultaneously lift and plummet, and a crazy making concoction of hormones or brain chemicals created a stew of intense pleasure and pain. Areas in her brain responsible for happiness and the other areas connected to despair were both lighting up, like an insane pin ball game. “Hi, Ben,” she said bravely, waving, as she looked back down at her computer screen. The familiar pattern of his movements, how he removed his messenger bag, went to go make a cup of green tea (he never drank coffee, it made him sick), and how he hummed a little as he started his computer up and checked his emails: she knew them like the back of her hand. As much as she tried to ignore him, he was the most compelling thing in the room for her. He took up nearly all her attention, as much as she fought against it. She sat back against her chair and repeated her steps:
powerlessness, prayer, believe all will be well. Don’t give up
. She thought for a moment.
And, maybe
,
just maybe
?
Meet someone new
?

* * *

He hadn’t planned this well at all, he thought, brushing off his tee shirt with his hands. He had worked all day with just a break for a quick sandwich. He was working with a construction company that mostly got contracted to build houses, and it was hot work. So there he stood, outside of Graphite, in his jeans and black tee shirt. It was two o’clock and there was no way he could get across town, shower, change clothes, and get back. He opened the door and followed the sign, heading upstairs. At the glass door, he stopped. There she was. It was the woman from the mural painting day at the preschool. She was standing up, leaning slightly over her desk, placing things in a portfolio bag. His response was immediate, uncensored. He wanted to kiss the back of her neck. The way her hair swung forward to hide her face, exposing her sweet neck. He wanted to kiss right there, lingering, while pulling her around to face him, deeper into his arms. Shaking his head slightly, he blinked, almost alarmed at the intensity of his fantasy. There was a tugging feeling in his stomach, everything felt tight and hot. Just then, she turned, catching sight of him. Startled, she blinked, then smiled, hurrying over to the door.

She opened it, looking up at him. “Daniel? Hi, I’m Alma!”

Her eyes, her mouth, that smile. He had to mentally kick himself. “Hi, I remember you. Great to see you again.” She was so little. Daniel wasn’t a tall guy, but next to her, he felt as though he actually was.

She stepped back, gesturing toward her desk. “That’s so cool you won a session with us, I didn’t even know there was a raffle.”

“I know, right?” He sat where she indicated as she sat across from him.

“I’m glad you trust me enough after I got paint all over you,” she laughed, covering her face.

He grinned, entranced by the way he could see her eyes partially through her fingers. “I would totally trust you around an open bucket of paint again, anytime.”

She laughed and he looked at her mouth. Her voice was so soft and somehow pretty sounding. Her words had a slight, almost undetectable Mexican accent, on some words more than others. He took a quick breath and crossed his arms, and tried to stop smiling so much.

“Can I get you anything? We have iced green tea, coconut water, water.” She looked at him expectantly.

“Thanks, no, I’m good.” He smiled, uncrossed his arms, looking straight at her.

“Well, then, let’s get straight to work.” She smiled. “You’ve won a session with me, so what kind of project can I help you with?”

“Thing is.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to think of something all day. I have no idea, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to waste your time. Some day… I want to have my own business. I can imagine if I did, I’d need a graphic designer for advertisements and everything. But I’m nowhere close to that at this point.”

Alma sat back, considering his words. “That’s okay. If you ever need any graphics done, or want some help with a website, like you said, with advertising, anything like that… just let me know. I can show you a portfolio of some of my work, and you can decide if you ever want to work with me.” She looked at him inquiringly.

“That’s great, thanks.”

She angled her computer screen so that he could see it, and clicked on a slide show of some of her recent projects.

“I’m so impressed, you’re really talented. I love the colors you choose.” He peered a little closer, looking at a website of an art gallery.

“I love colors, if it’s not obvious.” She smiled, gesturing to her clothes. She was wearing a bright, coral colored dress and turquoise beads. He glanced quickly down her legs (bare, tan) and saw she was wearing little blue boot-like shoes with some sort of molded heels. Whatever they were, they were both hot and adorable. She probably thought he was being gross staring at her legs. He quickly lifted his eyes.

“Colors,” he blurted, not knowing what he was going to say, feeling hot. “You could help me plan what tattoos to get next. I mean, I don’t have plans to get them done anytime soon.”
Rent, groceries, gas, preschool, health insurance
, he thought. “But, these seem unfinished to me.” He shrugged, holding his arms out.

* * *

Alma swallowed, glad the two of them were alone. Scott had made Laura and Ben go with him to a furniture outlet, saying he needed help with a project, a new client who wanted help with home design. She would have felt so self-conscious if they had been here, knowing they would have been listening, and that they would be pretending they were not. She leaned forward, looking at his arms. Tilting her head, she got lost in the images of the tree roots and branches.

“May I?” She reached out, looking up at him.

He moved closer, resting his arms on her desk.

She turned his arm slightly, following the line of roots, branches and leaves, then did the same for his next arm. Her eyes wandered up to where his short sleeve broke the line.

“Is there any more?” She asked, looking at him. She blinked. She hadn’t realized their faces would be so close.

He opened his mouth slightly, started to speak, then cleared his throat. “Just a little, maybe that you can’t see, without…”

She gently pushed his sleeve up higher, seeing how the leaves got smaller and smaller. She did the same on the other arm. “Gorgeous.”

“They just stop. I feel like at some point, I need to get them completed.” His voice sounded lower and even rougher, but so sweet to her. She would have known his voice anywhere.

She nodded, smiling gently. “It’s like a story that just hasn’t ended yet. And visually, it’s as though there’s this space here, and here.” She gently pushed his sleeves higher again, touching his shoulders. “Where the lines and images need to continue, to make it complete.”

He seemed to shiver.

“I’m sorry, I’m probably tickling you!” She pulled his sleeves down and took her hands off him, laughing self -consciously.

“Nope.” He shook his head, looking down. After a moment, he spoke again. “Do you have any ideas, what would look right? My buddy Luis, he’s really talented. Always drawing, could draw anything, even when he was a little kid. He got training to be a tattoo artist, gave me a major discount when he started out. I didn’t even know exactly what I wanted, just told him about these trees I really liked, described them. He moved to Las Vegas a while ago, and well.” He shrugged, crossing his arms.

She nodded, watching his eyes as he spoke. “It seems like a very personal decision, but that being said, I can’t help but come up with ideas already. I’d be happy to sketch some things out for you, and if they give you any inspiration for whenever you do get your tattoos completed, I’m happy to have helped.”

He nodded, his eyes locked on hers. Then he grinned. “Heck, you already started painting on me, why not just draw directly on me?”

“What?” Alma laughed, covering her mouth.

“You’ve got all those pens and markers.” He held out his arm. “Just go for it.”

“Seriously?” She couldn’t stop laughing.

He held his right arm out, raising his eyebrows.

Grinning, Alma opened her desk and peered inside. “Okay, at least these are washable.” She held a fine tipped black marker out, and hesitated. Daniel hooked his foot around the base of her chair, which had wheels, and pulled her close, so that she was right next to him. Pursing her lips so as not to laugh, she took his arm and angled it over her lap, looking down to hide the blush she knew was suddenly coloring her face. She pushed his sleeve all the way up, folding it so that it would stay anchored and out of the way. She could smell the fresh, warm, clean smell of his shirt and beneath that, a kind of salty deliciousness. Feeling him shiver slightly, she looked up into his eyes. His expression was intent, amusement and heat in his eyes. She blinked and uncapped her pen, smiling, hoping her hand would not shake.

“So, I just had this idea,” she said softly, placing the tip of the pen against his skin. “What if the leaves, see how they change? What if they could become birds, like this, and this?” She leaned closer to his skin, drawing swallows. “She how they make a pattern? I could make them become stars, up here, and then… then there’d be this kind of full circle. How it all starts, with seeds, below the roots? Seeds to stars, something about the shapes… Down here at your wrist… how it’s all connected.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “And how everything has stardust in it, we all do. I learned that in a science class.”

Once she started to draw, she became lost and time seemed to stop. It’s what always happened. She blinked and straightened a little, looking down at what she had drawn. She loved it. She had had a vague idea when she started, but once she got the pen in her hand, inspiration took over. But, did he like it? Maybe he thought birds were somehow feminine, not the look he wanted? “Just an idea.” She began to feel shy that she was sitting in such close proximity to him.

“Just an idea? Alma, it’s perfect. You’re… you’re amazing.”

She looked up into his eyes and smiled. His gaze was frank, admiring, and somehow moved. “Thanks, I’m… I’m glad you like it. Do you want me to add some color? Just for future reference?”

He nodded, not looking away from her. She kept one hand on his arm, and turned back to her desk, selecting a red marker. She turned back, her glance snagging on his leg, parallel to hers. She dragged her eyes back to his arm, but on the way, she couldn’t help but look at his chest. It was on the way, after all, she thought to herself. He looked strong, as though he worked using his body. His construction boots were worn and dusty, she could see. “Since we’ve already seen that I’m not to be trusted around the color red and your arm, thank you for giving me another chance.” She bit her lip, glancing up at him. His blue or gray eyes were so full of laughter and more, some mischief and heat. “I think it would look perfect to have some red here, and here, and here… to kind of continue that color from where it started, here.” His skin smelled so good. The further up his arm she touched, the softer his skin was. She had an image of her hand pushing all the way up his sleeve so that she could touch his chest. She rolled her eyes at herself inwardly.
Oh, what next? Asking him to take off his shirt, encouraging him to let you draw all over him
? She capped the marker, and sat back a little, looking back up at him, shrugging. “That’s it, I guess. Do you want anything else? I can take a picture of this with your phone, if you want to save it?” She looked up at him expectantly.

* * *

Daniel leaned forward. “Just one more thing. Would you possibly be interested in letting me take you out to dinner some night?” His heart was hammering in his chest, his mouth was dry, his eyes locked on hers. He was half crazed with wanting her sweet hands on him again. He would never look at pens and markers the same way, ever again.

Alma seemed to draw herself up and she tensed, looking off to the side. Then she looked up into his face, her expression full of flustered pleasure and fear. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Yeah?” For some reason, he found he was whispering, too.