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They stood there like that, Julia standing at one end of the hallway and Erin at the other. She wanted to step towards her, wanted to see if Erin smelled the same without layers of cotton, foundation, or lipstick.
While she was standing there talking herself out of it, Erin walked slowly towards her, trailing along the empty wall. Her hands were still around the ties of her pants, one side of her shirt slightly untucked where a spot of warm flesh could be seen.
Just one foot away, she stopped and looked up at Julia. Julia fought the need to hide her face, to pull her hands up and shelter everything she fought to hide each day. She thought the night would protect her secret, but not from that close up. Nothing could be hidden under a microscope.
“What?” Julia asked, mortified that she didn’t put on that concealer.
“You are beautiful.” She spoke so softly, so breathlessly that Julia swore those words caressed her heart. “Sometimes when I look at you, I’m just in complete awe.”
Julia’s stomach flipped at the same time her breath hitched, eyes growing wider no matter how much she tried to stop them.
“Erin–” she quietly exhaled, the puff of air involuntarily coming out.
She’s never believed that phrase before, never felt like she was worthy of its meaning. But from her lips? She’d believe anything.
She wanted to reach out and touch her, hold her so tightly, because she quite possibly might be the last good thing left on Earth.
“I’m sorry.” Erin stepped back, interrupting her train of thought. “You know what they say about one too many glasses of wine.”
You’re ruining this!
“Erin,” Julia began again. She wasn’t sure of what she wanted to say next, but knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to reach down and bring Erin closer to her, close whatever space was between them permanently. “I–” she began again.
“So, I’ll see you in the morning,” Erin cut in, nodding vigorously as she backed more towards the door of her bedroom.
She had one hand on the door, it partially pulled close. Her forehead was wrinkled in thought as she hovered there–a battle within Julia wasn’t privy to.
“Erin, please let–”
“Thank you, Jules,” she said at last, right before the door swooshed closed.
Julia wasn’t sure how long she waited in that hallway. She didn’t hear any movement in the room. Erin could have been leaning on the other side of that door for all she knew, waiting for her to knock, waiting for her to say anything other than single syllables.
Why is it that only after a moment has passed, that you have the foresight of what you should’ve done? Why does the train have to blow through the terminal for you to understand that grabbing a coffee along the way wasn’t the best decision? They say that hindsight is 20-20, but how do you know you’re blind until the moment glasses rub on the bridge of your nose?
If Julia met those natural mossy eyes again–the alcohol helping shave away all the doubt she consciously built up–she wouldn’t have one word as an excuse. She’d fall into them like all the times she wanted to before.
Chapter Nineteen
Julia didn’t sleep well, only having a short couple of hours to doze off into unconsciousness. She tossed and turned, taking a trip to the bathroom twice between bouts of frustration.
At times she thought she heard the click of a door opening or the shuffling of feet carried through the hallway, but the harder she listened, she only heard the sound of her own breath.
By four in the morning, she couldn’t lay in bed any longer. The easel in the corner called to her–a siren’s song in the hazy dawn covered fog. She took a deep breath. She still wasn’t sure what it would be yet. The lines were still indiscernible as she closed one eye and tilted her head.
She sat down on the stool anyway, her lower back aching from the angle already. In one swift movement she picked up a paintbrush and held it in her mouth as she plopped more paint onto her pallet.
In small strokes she blended salmon into maroon, and marigolds into vast olive colored arches. She folded winding brown rivers down the linen surface–peaks crashing into subtle horizons. Slowly, as the time ticked down on the clock in the corner, it was becoming something. Something… but what?
With a deep sigh, she rested her brush into the cup of water to her right. She squinted her eyes and tilted her head, but she still couldn’t see the big picture. It wasn’t right yet–the depth was all wrong, focus pulled in too many directions–its story wasn’t finished.
She opened the door to her bedroom quietly, releasing the latch with surgeon precision. Surprise covered her body in a weighted cloak as she approached the guest room, the door wide open, the space empty. The bed was made and a folded pair of sweats laid on the edge of the gold comforter. There was no note left, no goodbye spoken.
Way to go. Screw up another thing.
The sun hadn’t even begun to crawl over the horizon, but she decided to get to work early, even earlier than usual. What’s a healthier way to deal with the thoughts scrambling through your head than to bury them in work?
She hoped to avoid the very conversation she knew would come from Keegan’s mouth. She wanted to get to her office, close the door, and pretend to have meetings all day. It worked, sometimes. Well, not really, but hey! Today could be the day!
