CATHEDRAL - Patrick Sean Lee (best books for 8th graders txt) 📗

“Yes?”

“Good morning, Isabella. Did you sleep well?”

It’s Matthew! His voice has a vibrant, excited edge to it. Oh dear Lord, I don’t know what possessed me to call him last night, but then again I remember thinking, Why not? Why shouldn’t I? I miss Matthew. My God, I really miss him! The conversation comes back to me in an embarrassing, accelerated rush of jumbled-together phrases, feelings of longing, the craziest desire to be beside him at the lodge, away from this madness with Brad and the life I worked so hard to create here in beautiful Santa Monica. At least for a little while again. It will all be here, just like it is now, when Matthew and I leave at the end of his extended reservation. I want to feel the soft touch of his hands, see his face, and I know deep down that I want to make love to him.

I close my eyes, flop back onto the pillow, and pet Stanfield with my free hand.

Did I sleep well? “No. I dreamt that I fell off the Empire State Building…and hit the street. Have you ever fallen in a dream and landed?” My head is pounding as if it banged into the side of the building several times on the way down.

He laughs. “No one ever lands and lives to tell about it the next morning. You just think you landed, but really it was into my arms. I was there in your dream. Don’t you remember?”

It’s my turn. “Yes! You were there. It’s coming back…but it was you who pushed me!”

I hear a soft chuckle, and then there is a momentary stillness, a regrouping of our thoughts.

“You’re on the ten o’clock flight. United 558. A cab will be at your curbside at eight. You’ll have to pay the fare for that, but I’ll re-im…Isabella?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be on the flight, won’t you?”

I hear his heart pounding through the phone, hear him suck in a quick breath as he awaits my answer. And, sober, now, I consider what I said to him. The only reason not to go is Petals and Bows. This house. Stanfield. Annie. Gloria. My flower gardens. The barking dog and Mr. Chang. Other than my life, there is nothing here to hold me. Just my normal life, which suddenly feels terribly empty without Matthew Ash. It’s absolutely stupid of me to really consider leaving all these responsibilities. And therefore I must say, yes.

“I will, Matthew. I…can I have fallen...you know, can I really be …? Isn’t that the craziest thing? Childish and immature thinking? Just a buzz, or a momentary infatuation? I must be, though. Do you think that’s possible, Matthew?”

He answers with a level, sure voice, “I do. I believe it hit you the very same instant it hit me, even if you didn’t want to believe it. I think that’s how it works sometimes. Jesus, I miss you, Isabella.”

“Have you written much?” I ask him.

“Oh God, yes! I’ve been working my a…Hey! Go get showered. Hurry! Are you packed?” he says.

I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Only a moment or two have passed. Five-ten. The window looking out into the backyard has a wintry, pre-dawn glow. It’s way too early to think seriously about climbing out of bed.

“What time did you say the cab is coming?”

“I told them to be there at eight sharp. That gives you half an hour to get to the airport. Check in…Get up, sweetheart. Pack some warm clothes, it’s really getting cold up here. But, hey—I’ll keep you warm. I promise. Get moving, now.”

I wait, but he doesn’t say anything more, and so I continue, irrelevantly. “It’s dark out here, still.”

“Go, now. Pack the charcoal-colored dress. It’s beautiful on you. I love you. Go.”

“Yes, ok, I’ll be ready…Matthew, are you…are we sure this is something…”

“Go, Isabella. I’ll meet you at Denver International. Yes, I’m absolutely certain. Don’t miss your flight. Call me every ten minutes!”

I smile into the dim light in front of me at that. “Alright. I’ll see you a little later. I’ll be there. I miss you so much. Bye.”

Neither of us wants to hang up first, it seems. I wait, holding the phone tight to my ear. I hear Stanfield purring, purring.

“Bye.”

“Ok…I’m going, now. Goodbye. I love you.” A few more seconds pass, then, a dial tone.

I have about an hour to scrub the outward effects of last night off me, pack, wake Annie. Crap…what am I going to tell her? She’ll freak. She’ll know I’ve gone insane. Gloria will probably walk out on me. Brad? Annie will most likely fill him in on what’s going on unless I lie to her and make up some story. No. I have to tell her the truth. I’m going back to a man I just met, that I think I love in this absurd, unexplainable way. Of course she won’t understand, and that’s alright. I don’t really, either. What is the magic of Matthew that would drive me to do this? I don’t know, but I need to be with him. I want to. I’m going.

Stanfield. I throw the covers aside and swing my legs onto the rug. He is suddenly wide awake. He must smell his breakfast. “I’ll miss you, buddy. You be good, now, you hear? I won’t be gone forever, and Annie will take good care of you.” I don’t mention Jack to him; he might not like the idea of being replaced for a few more weeks by some strange Tom. “Come on, I’ll open a can of your favorite.”

Stanfield and I are on the move and he’s meowing loudly, prancing along beside me out into the kitchen. I feed him, and he’s in his own excited world of simple wants and needs. He loses interest in me for the moment, and so I pad down the hall to the bathroom, almost afraid to flip the light switch and look into the mirror. When I do I’m not as shocked as I felt I’d be. My eyes are a little bloodshot. Not bad, though, considering how I felt a few minutes ago when Matthew called. I can fix the eyes with some drops. I had the sweater dress that Matthew likes dry cleaned last week. My blue ski jacket, warm gloves, loads of boots, wool socks, pantyhose—I hope I have good ones. I think of a hundred little things as I undress and step into the shower. I’m really going. I must have lost my mind.

When I leave the bathroom, I walk quietly down the hall and peer into the living room. I can see Annie sprawled out on the sofa under the blanket in the shadows, one leg dangling over the edge, her left arm bent up under her frightful mass of dark hair. I leave and go back to the bedroom, slip into a coral shift, then shake my hair with the tips of my fingers. In ten minutes I have a suitable variety of jeans, blouses, winter clothes, and the sweater dress packed. I grab the overnight case from the closet and fill it with everything else I’ll need. How long, I wonder, will I be gone? The question surprises me, a little. I never thought to ask Matthew about that. Maybe forever. Maybe we’ll wind up selling everything we own down here…I chuckle. Maybe I’ll give Annie the store. Let her put up with the dying flowers and the customers who think the red roses aren’t nearly red enough. Maybe Stanfield will switch his affections to a brand new master? No, whatever happens, he goes with me in the end. Whatever happens. I wonder what will happen?

Six-fifteen, now. Everything is ready, I hope. Time to wake Annie and drop the bomb on her, and so I walk back into the living room, but I don’t turn on the light. The softness of the morning coming through the sheers over the windows will do fine. I don’t want to throw any harsher light onto the announcement than I have to. She’s curled up, now, and I gently shake her shoulder.

“Annie, wake up.” At first she doesn’t respond, and so I try again. “Hon, wake up. I have to tell you something.”

“Wha…” She turns her head. Her hair is hanging over her eyes, and she forces the one nearest to me open. “What? What time is it?” She turns her head, brushes the strands off her face. I don’t say anything for the moment and let her figure out where she is.

“Oh, Lord. What happened to the cab? Jesus, I stayed here?” She runs her fingers through her hair again and sits up with great effort.

 “Annie, sweetheart, I have to go. I’m going back to Colorado for a while. Will you take care of the store again, and check on Stanfield while I’m gone?” I guess blunt is best. Her reaction is pretty much what I expect, and she’s wide awake within a second after I end the question. She jerks her head up at me, and I can see the shock in her face, as though I’d just slapped her hard. The clock-spring in her head is winding tight, readying itself to snap. I smile wanly, and finally the spring explodes.

  “You’re going where? What on earth has come over…when did this happen? What is it with you and this guy, anyway?”

  “I don’t know!” I want to give her a huge hug. “I’m flying back at ten. My cab will be here pretty soon. I didn’t mean to just drop this in your lap like I have, but he called late…or I called him. He needs me. I need him, too. I don’t know what’s going to happen, honey, but I want you to take care of things here for a few weeks. Please, Annie. I’ll make it worth your while. God, I’m nuts, I know!” I need to say in one or two minutes what should really take one or two hours. I’m certain Annie will do what I ask once the smoke clears, though.

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee for you before I go. I’ve already fed Stanfield…”

“What are you doing, Is? You can’t leave. There’s too much going on here. This house, the boutique…” She stops. “Brad.”

I wait as she starts to stammer. She failed to mention Stanfield. Okay, the house and the boutique are important, but she knows as well as I do that she can easily handle both. Business is slow, Stanfield simply needs to have his back rubbed once a day, the cat box changed, a little food and water—everything else except Brad is on auto pilot, pretty much.

“I’ve thought it all out.” I haven’t. “It has nothing to do with Brad. I’ve got to go, that’s all. Will you take over here? You can use the house if you like. Move some of your things over here.” I look at the clock on the wall above the phone out of the corner of my eye. Six twenty-two. “Your cab will be here any minute. Just say yes, hon. Please.”

She drops her head into her hands, her elbows rest on her knees, and she mumbles. “Godammit, Is. What’s come over you? Yes, yes, I’ll keep the ship afloat, I suppose.” She raises her face and looks hard at me. “How long will you be gone for? Two weeks?”

“I think so. I’m not sure. I’ll call you every day, though. Oh, thanks, Annie, you’re the best. I love you—really. I’ll get some coffee started for us.”

I turn and slip out of her sight, rush to the kitchen and throw the Starbuck’s blend into the basket as quickly as I can. I hear the bathroom door shut, and I go about, checking every silly thing throughout the house that comes to mind.

I hear the water in the shower. I fuss about. Time is dragging by. The water keeps whistling in the shower. The coffee is long done and waiting.