Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
But no, that wouldn’t work. From what I’d observed of Jonathan, any effort on my part to console him would likely be met with avoidance.
Returning to the apartment, I placed the pot in the kitchen then went back to bed. It was difficult to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I couldn’t stop replaying Jonathan’s distraught features. I’d fucked up, and I had no clue how to fix it. Or maybe he didn’t want me to. Perhaps the best course of action was to pretend the entire encounter had never happened.
The following day, I fretted over whether to go next door and make sure he was okay. In the end, I chickened out, and when evening approached, I wondered if Jonathan would knock on my apartment door to check on me like he’d promised he would. Normally, he knocked around eight o’clock, but then eight turned to nine, nine turned to ten, and before long, I was tucking myself into bed with no appearance from my neighbour.
I worried he was mad at me, blaming me for cooking his mother’s recipe and bringing up emotions he’d been trying to suppress. I also feared he may not wish to speak to me again at all. What if he thought I’d done it on purpose? That it was some sick game on my part to punish him for not trying to repair his relationship with his mother after so many years? No, surely, he wouldn’t think I was that twisted. Maybe he was just lost in grief, too distracted by the pain to remember to check on me. Thinking this, I felt the irrational need to care for him. I climbed out of bed, about to go and call in on him, when I hesitated. What if he just wanted to be alone and me pestering him made him even madder than he already was? Besides, it was far too late to go knocking on his door.
Slipping back under the covers, I spent most of the night lost in my internal conflict over Jonathan until, before I knew it, morning had arrived, and I had to go to work.
Close to lunch time at Pinebrook Lodge, I was in the lounge chatting with a resident named Bernie about some adjustments to her care plan when my gaze caught on a familiar car pulling up outside. My heart skipped a beat, relief and anxiety warring for dominance. Jonathan had come? Did that mean he was no longer mad at me? Or had he arrived to tell me I needed to move out of the apartment? In my heart, I just hoped he was no longer as distraught as he’d seemed on Saturday.
Other people began to take note of the car, and excited murmuring ensued.
After the amount of gossip his appearance stirred up the last time, I’d hoped to ensure he never had cause to visit me at work again. Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten around to making the request that he contact me by phone if he ever needed me. And now he was here. Again. I could already sense the giddy anticipation as residents craned their necks to peer out the window at his shiny black Porsche.
Jonathan emerged from the car, buttoning his suit jacket and pulling off a pair of stylish sunglasses that had probably cost more than all the handbags I’d ever owned. Why did he always have to look so polished? I wasn’t a particularly unkempt person, but often in Jonathan’s company, I felt like a scruffy old slob in comparison to his flawless style and personal hygiene. I noticed his hair was always the exact same length, like a barber visited him weekly to ensure it never grew any longer than the requisite two inches on top.
Someone gave a wolf whistle. I was fairly certain it was Jackie. God bless her lungs. I didn’t know many eighty-seven-year-olds who could whistle like that.
“Ada’s fancy man is here again,” Philomena announced, rubbing her hands together. “We’re in for a treat.”
“What I wouldn’t give for a night with a fella like that,” Bernie, who I’d just been consulting with, added.
“A night? I’d be happy with fifteen minutes,” Philomena cackled.
“You certainly wouldn’t kick him out of bed for leaving crumbs,” Jackie agreed.
“He’s not anyone’s fancy man,” I announced, folding my arms. “He’s Leonora’s son, and you all know it.” I was aware that Hannah had informed everyone of who my intriguing mystery visitor had been. “I’d also appreciate if you didn’t make lewd comments about him.”
“Exactly,” Lewis put in. He’d been tending to another resident on the other side of the lounge. “The poor man doesn’t need you pack of hyenas circling. Besides, you’re making me jealous. I thought I was the stud around these parts.”
They all chuckled and made noises of reassurance that he was still their number one. I shook my head as I hurried out to see why I was being bestowed another in-person visit from Jonathan. I could only hope he’d come to make peace after the spaghetti incident.