The Other Side of the Door

Nate called that evening.

I was helping Ben assemble a shelf designed by somebody with a profound hatred of shelves.

"Bad time?" Nate asked.

"That depends. How do you feel about wooden pegs?"

"Uneasy."

"Sensible."

He laughed, and Ben mouthed something obscene about my expression.

I went into the kitchen.

"I spoke to Claire," Nate said.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"She's in Chicago until tomorrow evening. I told her we needed to talk when she got back. She asked what it was about."

"What did you say?"

"That I couldn't keep pretending everything was all right."

"Does she know what you mean?"

There was a pause.

"I don't know."

I leaned against the counter.

"Nate."

"I know. I'm telling you what happened. Not asking you to call it enough."

That distinction mattered, though I wished it didn't need to.

We talked for twenty minutes about my work with Tessa. He asked questions that proved he was listening. When I told him the preliminary data looked promising, he said, "I knew you'd be good at it."

I stood in Ben's kitchen smiling at the tiles.

Before we hung up, he asked whether I'd eaten.

"Yes."

"Good."

"You?"

A brief silence.

"That's confidential."

"You haven't."

"I've been busy."

"Make toast. I hear it's the first step toward independence."

He laughed, softer this time.

"Good night, Elliot."

"Good night."

I stayed beside the counter after the call ended.

Wanting him hadn't stopped. I'd stopped giving it the keys to everything else. Those were different accomplishments, and I was learning not to confuse them.

On Sunday, I went home for more clothes and a textbook I'd forgotten.

Mom hugged me longer than usual.

"Staying for dinner?"

"I can."

"Good. I've missed you."

I hadn't expected that to make me feel guilty. I hugged her back.

Nate was in the kitchen, rinsing a plate.

He turned when he heard me.

For a second, he simply smiled.

Then Mom came in behind me, and he looked down at the sink.

It was a tiny change. I felt it all the same.

"Found something to eat?" I asked.

"Advanced to eggs."

"Terrifying ambition."

Mom looked between us and smiled. "That's better."

Neither of us answered.

After lunch, she went to meet a friend. Victor was at the club. Martha had Sunday afternoon off.

I went upstairs and found a paperback on my desk.

It was the crime novel from the secondhand shop.

A note marked the first page.

He goes into the basement. I remain opposed.

I laughed aloud.

"I wanted a second opinion," Nate said from the hall.

I turned with the note still in my hand.

"So you admit I might know something?"

"On a trial basis."

He leaned against the doorframe.

It was absurd how different the room looked with him waiting to be invited inside.

"You can come in," I said.

He did, slowly.

I sat on the edge of my desk. He picked up the book, read his own note as though checking the quality, and put it back.

"I have something else for you."

"If it's another crime novel, I may need legal representation."

He took a small paper packet from his pocket.

Inside was a miniature model bridge. Unassembled.

I stared at it.

"I thought," he said, then stopped. "It's a ridiculous present."

"It is."

"I can take it back."

I held it against my chest.

"Absolutely not."

His mouth softened.

"This one comes with better glue."

I looked down at the picture on the packet until I trusted my face again.

"We'll see. Your construction record is poor."

"I was hoping for supervision."

He said it lightly. Underneath, I heard the question.

"Maybe," I said.

He nodded, accepting the maybe as though it were something precious.

For a moment, I wanted to be angry. He should have known how to be gentle years ago. He shouldn't have needed me to leave before he learned to knock.

Then he looked at me and said, "I missed your laugh."

The anger didn't disappear. It made room.

"You used to complain about the noise," I said.

"I was an idiot."

"Used to is doing a lot of work in that sentence."

He laughed.

I reached for his hand.

It was my choice. I needed to know that. I needed him to know it too.

He looked down at our joined fingers, then up at me.

"Are you sure?"

"About holding your hand? I'll survive the scandal."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

He stood close enough that I could see the uneven edge of the old mark on his thumb.

"I'm still angry with you," I said.

"You should be."

"Don't sound so agreeable. It's unnerving."

He smiled, and I loved him with a sudden, helpless tenderness that made my throat ache.

I touched his cheek.

He turned his face slightly into my hand.

When he bent toward me, he stopped with enough space left for a decision.

I closed it.

Our first kiss was brief and awkward because I was smiling when it happened. His hand tightened around mine. Then he rested his forehead against mine, and for a few seconds I forgot there was a whole house around us.

"Oh," I said, very intelligently.

He laughed under his breath.

"Yes."

I looked at him.

"You look pleased with yourself."

"I'm trying to contain it."

"Try harder."

The doorbell rang.

We separated at once.

The speed of it hurt.

Nate looked toward the hall. Through the window, I could see a familiar silver car in the drive.

"Claire," he said.

My hand fell from his.

She had returned early. That was all. An ordinary change of plans, and suddenly my happiness had nowhere to stand.

"Stay here a minute," he said.

I stared at him.

He heard it after he'd said it.

"Elliot—"

"Go answer the door."

"I didn't mean—"

The bell rang again.

"She's waiting."

He went downstairs.

I remained in my bedroom with a paper packet pressed between both hands.

From below came Claire's voice, warm and tired from travel.

"I thought I'd surprise you."

I looked at the open doorway.

All those years I'd wanted him to let me into his room. Now I was discovering the difference between being welcomed and being hidden.

I put the bridge in my drawer and went downstairs.

Claire was taking off her coat.

"Elliot! I didn't know you were back."

"Picking up some things."

Nate watched me from beside the stairs.

I smiled at her. It cost enough that I couldn't spare one for him.

"Good to see you," I said.

Then I put on my jacket and left through the front door.