Nest by Anyta Sunday

Author:Anyta Sunday [Sunday, Anyta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-01-01T23:00:00+00:00

That Would Be Continuing

Sunday morning, sometime after nine, I ducked out of the village bakery with a bag of rolls under my arm and my phone jammed between my ear and shoulder. I awkwardly stuffed change into my wallet and into my jean’s pocket.

“Yes, that’s right. I want the wall between the study and the living room to come down.”

I was thankful the contractor had gotten back to me so quickly—and on a Sunday, no less.

“I need to check it out to make sure it’s nothing structural, but considering how big you say the wall is, I think you’ll be looking at around 400 euros.”

I headed up the hill, wishing the morning sun warming my back would keep me calm as I swallowed that figure. “Um, 400?”

“That’s only an estimate.”

He must have heard my hesitation, because he was quick to add, “But we can get it done early next week for you.”

Well that was something. “All right. I’ll talk to my landlord about getting a key to you when you go around.”

“How’s Tuesday work for you?”

“That’ll be fine,” I said, and ended the call.

“Lenny.” I heard my name being spoken, but it was muffled as if the sun had soaked through and softened its edges.

I turned, the light blinding on my face as a figure emerged in front of it, reaching out his hand.

Julian’s dark hair was tipped golden in the morning light and he smiled hesitantly as he closed the last few steps between us.

“How many times do I have to tell you to go away?”

“Yeah…only, you dropped some change,” he said, opening his palm for me to take it.

I stared at it. He opened his hand more, fingers spreading slightly, pennies sliding down his palm.

There may have been no ulterior motives behind it, and I might have only been imagining he wanted to snap his hand around mine and demand we talk, but I couldn’t risk reaching out and taking the money. Touching him was too tempting.

“Keep it,” I said.

“It’s not a trap,” he said softly, leaning over, taking the hand hanging by my side and dropping the change in the center of my palm. He closed my fingers around it, and a second later his tingling touch disappeared.

When I didn’t offer any more conversation, he gave one last smile, nodded his head, and crossed the street.

We were both heading in the same direction, both a good five minutes from our homes.

I shifted the rolls under my other arm and followed Julian into the shade. I could at least be civil.

“Thank you,” I said as I approached his side.

He must have seen me coming, because he didn’t jump. Just slowed his gait. “I’m sorry about last night.”

We took a right, toward the village square and into the sun. I strolled next to him, something in the air and the warmth of the morning reminding me of the years we did this walking back from elementary school.

We’d held less back then. Had been so carefree with what was on our minds—how we felt.

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