Trivial Pursuits Ch. 13

It seemed either fitting or unfair that her mother's health was failing and yet her misery should be compounded by marriage to a creep and an unhealthy attachment to crap. Her bedroom was beginning to look like a hoarder's, and every time Alessa offered to help clean it up, Eileen only made some slightly irritated excuse that she simply didn't have enough storage for everything.

And so she left Sunday afternoon with something of a burden in her heart, a vague notion twisting in her gut that somehow her mother's life would have been different, better, if her father hadn't left. But she didn't know if she believed that anymore. It was at least the fifth time she had checked her phone for a text that she decided to be the first and contact him.

Alessa: Staying busy?

Denny: Just about to make dinner. Gotta keep a hungry boy fed

How was your mom?

Alessa:What have you been doing to make you so hungry?

Fine. We just hung out.

Denny:Went out on the sailboat. Got rained on, but then the sun came out. Nice. Lots of hard work, but worth it. I should take you out soon.

I'm sure she was happy to see you. You work too much 

Alessa: Not likely

And don't make me feel worse than I do

Denny:To which part?

Alessa:All of it actually

Denny:Why do you feel bad?

And I will get you out there. It's too beautiful to not at least TRY once.

Alessa:She's not really feeling well, so we sit in her room and just watch movies and talk. Its good quality time, but I wish she didn't feel so bad and that she could do more with her life.

Sorry to overshare.

Just depressed.

I should go for a run.

See you tomorrow

Alessa snarled at the plethora of unsolicited texts she had unloaded on him. Pathetic, she berated herself and then went to change into her running gear, despite the waning evening light. She ran fast, knowing her time would be short, and when she arrived back at her place thirty minutes later, there was a car in the drive.

It was Denny.

She walked up to his window and knocked. He rolled down the window.

"What are you doing here?"

"You never answered my texts."

She frowned. "I went running, I told you. I turn notifications off so they don't bother me."

"Well, I wanted to cheer you up," he explained, opening his door. She took a step back and watched him pull a paper sack out. "I brought food. I thought we could do dinner together."

She blinked. "You're kinda pushy, you know that?"

"Yeah, but I think I'm exactly what you need," he quipped with a cocky grin. "Come on, show me your pad."

Fighting a smile, Alessa rolled her eyes and turned to lead him up the stairs to her apartment. Denny was unsurprised to find it clean and clutter free, wondering if she owned anything but the bare furniture, her wardrobe and the books on the one bookshelf. The space was rather self-explanatory, with little separation between the living, dining, and bedroom, only the furniture in each section designating its function. A kitchen was to the back left, and her bathroom around a nook out of sight.

"This is it," she stated, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

He glanced once about the white-washed space, noting little color but plenty of variety of texture. "It's nice. It's you."

She eyed him as if she wasn't quite certain how to take his remark and then held out her arm to gesture to the kitchen. She followed behind and watched him unload a bunch of spinach, bell peppers, mushrooms, sausage, eggs and a baguette.

"Omelet?" she guessed.

"I thought it'd be an easy whip up," he explained. She nodded and then watched a little uneasy, a little surprised at how easily he found his way around her efficient kitchen, pulling cutting boards, knives, skillets, oil, and seasonings from the many hidden crannies.

"Wanna help me cut while I get the sausage going?"

She only nodded before washing her hands and then began to dice her way through the produce. They worked in companionable silence as they each went about their respective tasks, and before long, had compiled two delicious looking omelets.

They each took a plate and started for a seat, but Denny paused in his march as Alessa passed the small dining table and headed for the overstuffed couch, and then slid to the floor, leaning her back against it. He cocked a grin and joined her.

"Oh, the wine," he said suddenly, and hopped up to retrieve it. He brought back two glasses, handing her one. And then they were silent again.

"This is pretty good," she commented, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. "They're so fluffy."

Denny nodded taking another bite. "Gotta whip them really well, get loads of air in there." After a pause, he opted for conversation. "So your weekend was okay?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "Well, like I said, we didn't do anything. Which, in a way, was nice to be able to decompress given...last week," she cast him a sideways glance and suppressed a rising blush.

He nodded in understanding. "But it's hard."

She nodded. "It's hard."

"She's sick?"

Her answers were slowing in coming. "Yeah. She has an autoimmune disease. Lupus," she said with a lilt in her voice, wondering if he'd heard of it.

"Are you asking me or telling me?" he teased.

She chuckled. "No. Just curious if you know anything about it."

"No, not really," he admitted.

"Well, it's no fun. She has really bad inflammation throughout her body, especially her joints. Gets bad headaches that last for days. Her tendons get all irritated, so she can't really move too much. And then she just has pretty severe chronic pain. Maybe not unbearable all the time, though it can be, but she's in some amount of pain all the time, as in never not hurting somewhere."

"Sound pretty rough." Again there was silence, Alessa unsure what, if anything, should be said further about it. "So, it gets you down, seeing her like that," he observed.

She nodded, finishing the last bite of her omelet. "And you know, I want to spend time with her, but we just stay cooped up in that room, and we talk about how she feels, and what the doctors are doing and when her next appointment is," all the while cramped in that room surrounded by all that crap, she groaned inwardly.

Her knees were drawn up now, her arms around them and her chin resting thoughtfully on top. And then she felt an arm circle around her, pulling her into his side. "Sorry," he murmured, placing a kiss at her temple. Her response at first was stiff, but he noted with some amount of satisfaction that she quickly relaxed into him, not fighting his hold.

Eventually, he was able to move them up to the fat couch where he stretched out and pulled her on top of him. As expected, she had a moment of objection, but his strong arm and gentle words were enough to gain her compliance. As she lay against his chest, her ear listening to his heart beat, he told her about his cousins back in Texas and the many misadventures they prodded one another into. He revealed he was named for the town of Denton where his father was from, that his favorite color was a cool jade, that he frequently flew in his dreams, and he did regret not designing buildings for a living.

They awoke in the early hours of the morning with a start, neither knowing who jolted first or at what time in the previous evening they had fallen asleep. Either way, Denny got up to leave, kissing her sweetly before he departed. She watched him walk for the door, wishing he would stay, but knowing she wouldn't ask. And so she locked the door behind him and checked the time. As it was only four-thirty, she plugged in her dead phone and crawled into bed for another hour and half.

That Monday morning started out frantically, and she instantly regretted not arriving at the office before seven-thirty. There was an error in one of the reports she had sent to a senior partner, to which she had to explain herself and come up with a solution on the spot while standing in his office. Then she had to yet again turn Josh Caplin down when he asked to take her out Friday. She made the excuse that she was already seeing someone else, and was about to add to the argument dating colleagues was a bad idea, but then thought against it should her relationship with Denny ever become general knowledge. On top of all that, she was a little dehydrated and the wine from the previous night had left her with a groggy and slightly pained head.

Aside from the upsets at work, she still had the doctor's appointment to deal with, the earliest availability being that Wednesday, much to Denny's chagrin when he asked. She braved it with the same cool veneer she had used at the clinic, glossing over any intimate questions with clinical detach, removing herself from her person and the related discomfort. Her doctor gave her several options, one being a diaphragm, a second a shot that would last for three months, or the daily pill. At first she was inclined to go with the shot so she wouldn't have to face the daily reminder, but that felt cowardly and unsettled her for some reason. As if it was a deliberate act to escape her culpability for the relationship, and wasn't learning to take on the onus of being involved with another the entire purpose of their relationship? So in the end, she opted for the pill, which was ready for pick up Friday morning.

And so it was, with that one pill taken, her run at the gym over, and her work for the time being complete, she headed back to the office where Denny waited to take her home for their first weekend together.

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