Junto Magazine Vol2_Issue2 - Page 51

Junto Magazine, Volume 2 Issue 2 sold on the idea and weeks later- we were being shown around by the Edelmans. And as I watched Rick and Suzie talk their way through the town working in unison like a royal couple satisfying the masses who rushed to pay homage I found my- self falling in love with the Edelman im- age: the image of an unshakable partner- ship. It made me hope that one-day Laura and I could be just like them. When we stepped outside the world had lost its light. The surrounding hous- es, including the Edelman’s, had turned off their lights allowing for the natural darkness to seep across Arcadia. Above us only a sliver of the moon remained, a halo of light fighting for its survival. Laura and Suzie had all but disappeared, their voices immediately growing silent at the sound of the sliding door opening. I had to rely on following the sound of Rick’s footsteps while loosely holding onto his shoulder trying my best to use him for safe passage, anxious to get back to my seat next to Laura. Settling into our seats, the Edelmans lost their features, looking no more than two abstract figures. I could hear the sound of Rick and Suzie’s jackets rub against each other, their movements cloaked in the shadow of the moon as they began to meld into one. Desperate to talk to Lau- ra again, I touched her shoulder feeling mechanical as I worked my way around her body hoping to create something like an embrace. She leaned into me, resting her head on my chest, tilting it slightly to keep her eyes focused on the sky. I ran my fin ger across her hair gently grazing the side of her ear, letting it linger, as I waited for her to respond. Above us, the moon eclipsed. Return to the Table of Contents private restaurants where we could share our secrets and fall into the fantasy of what life would be like together. It was this fantasy that had eclipsed into reality weeks later at a hotel bar Al- lison had suggested. She had texted in the morning wanting to meet for lunch, and when I had arrived—after making up an excuse to Laura for my afternoon ab- sence—I had found her in a booth wait- ing for me. Wearing a simple black dress, she sat quietly tapping her finger against the table where two freshly poured glass- es rested, the bubbles in the liquid still climbing to the surface. I took a seat and without speaking, she pulled out a key- card tucked inside her dress and slipped it over to me with the same casualness as if she were passing over a napkin before standing up and walking away. Flipping it across my fingers, I listened to the click of its plastic against my nails feeling the warmth her body left on its surface. The room number where she was waiting written on the back of the card came in and out of my vision. I continued to do this working my way through both un- touched wineglasses until I found myself in motion, riding up the floors in an ele- vator and down the hall with the keycard inches away from the slot of a door. I told Laura I would never drink again. Assuring her that nothing had happened and nothing ever would, I promised to devote my time to her and the business. Even during the weeks of silence that followed, I kept good on my promise, severing myself from the outside world as I worked alongside Laura tirelessly to rebuild what we had lost. Eventually she did speak to me again, mentioning that an old childhood friend had contacted her, recommending we bring our business to the town he was living in. Laura had been