Chasing the Tide
Page 14

I resumed staring at the stain on the ceiling, wondering whether I could do things like paint it. Or change the curtains if I was so inclined. Would I be able to buy new dishes or decide one day I wanted to move the couch a whole foot?
I knew the answer was no. So how was I ever supposed to feel at home in a house I had no say in?
And why was I obsessing about this stuff on my very first morning here?
I told myself that I was being ridiculous. I should get up and find Flynn. I should start acclimating myself to his routine. But I continued to lie there, buried under his mountain of covers and wondered what the hell I was going to do and about whether I should risk stealing a pillow or two.
Okay, so I now had a shiny new degree under my belt but no job prospects. I was living with my boyfriend but had no source of income. I had saved up a decent amount from my previous jobs while in school but that wouldn’t last forever. And there was no way I’d ever mooch off Flynn. My pride would never allow it.
I had always had to fend for myself and that wasn’t going to change now.
I finally sat up and slung my legs over the side of the bed. The wooden floor was freezing under my bare feet. I noticed that Flynn had already laid out my robe on the chest at the foot of the bed and my earlier irritation at not being able to move the furniture or hang new curtains subsided somewhat at his thoughtfulness.
My clothes and belongings were already put away and the boxes disposed of. Flynn had made sure that everything was in its place before we had gone to bed last night. My socks and underwear were in their own drawer. My shirts were hung up in the closet. My toothbrush and facial cleanser were on their own shelf in the bathroom. Flynn had even gone out and gotten a vanity table and mirror and put it in the corner of the bedroom.
Murphy, hearing me up, bounded into the bedroom. His thick tail thumped the side of the bed as he wagged it eagerly.
“Mornin’ buddy,” I cooed, scratching the back of his head. “Where’s Flynn?” I asked him and the dog licked my hand.
I could smell coffee brewing so I followed the aroma out to the kitchen. The house was cold, my thin pajamas and robe doing little to keep me warm. Obviously Flynn didn’t believe in turning up the thermostat despite the fact that it was the middle of January.
Flynn sat at the small kitchen table eating toast and writing in a spiral bound notebook. I stood just inside the doorway looking at him for a moment.
He was the sort of guy who never seemed to age. He still seemed so much like the boy I met all those years ago. He had changed little in his appearance and style. Today he wore a blue and green checkered button down shirt, buttoned all the way to the collar. His khakis were pressed and wrinkle free, his brown shoes freshly polished.
He was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. He didn’t notice me come in and get a mug down from the cabinet. Murphy curled up at Flynn’s feet as I made my coffee. He finally looked up when I pulled the chair out across from him and sat down.
“Good morning,” he said with a small smile. I sipped on my coffee and nodded my head.
“Good morning,” I replied. Flynn returned to his notebook, our conversation coming to an end. We sat in silence, neither of us saying a word.
It felt weird.
I felt weird.
This wasn’t the first morning I had woken up in Flynn’s home. Before I had gone to school during the early days of our relationship, I had spent the night frequently. This wasn’t new for either of us.
But this felt strange. Things had changed for us. We weren’t two people just starting out. We were adults, beginning our life together. We were living in the same house, trying to build a future.
The weight of it was almost crushing.
And it freaked me out slightly.
“What are you doing?” I asked, not able to take the silence a moment longer.
Flynn didn’t look up. He took another, carefully neat bite of his toast, wiping his fingers on the napkin in his lap. He took a sip of his coffee and made another note on the paper. “I’m going over my lesson plan for today,” he answered after what felt like an incredibly long period of time.
“Tell me about it,” I requested, genuinely interested in his class. I had been completely surprised when he had accepted the position as an adjunct professor at Black River Community College. He had taught several art workshops when I had been a student and having been impressed with his abilities, the administration asked him to teach a course.
He began by teaching one class and was now teaching three.
“Still life carvings using clay,” he explained, not looking up. He scribbled notes and ate his toast. I might as well have not been there.
“That sounds pretty cool,” I said and the conversation once again dwindled into non-existence.
I finished my coffee and Flynn finished his breakfast. He finally looked at me, as though remembering that I was still there. He frowned. “You’re in your robe,” he said.
“Uh, well yeah, I just got up,” I pointed out.
“It’s cold out. You’ll freeze,” he stated, confusing me.
“Am I going somewhere?” I asked, chuckling.
“It’s time for Murphy’s walk. I thought you’d like to come too. I have to leave for work in twenty minutes but I always walk Murphy first. It would be nice if you came too.”
I got to my feet and put my coffee mug in the sink. “Sure, let me get changed really quick.”
“You should wash that mug. It doesn’t go in the sink. You wash it then put it on the drying rack,” Flynn pointed out.