It was about a month since the incident. Winter has begun to show itself. Snow coated Elijah's roof with a thin layer of ice, but afternoon sun was still able to melt it. He mentally remarked that he needed to put snow chains on his tires soon. Clara was inside the house, sound asleep. After her last minute cram of Don Quixote the night before, Elijah mused that this nap was well overdue and deserved.
Lately, she had been odd. She was quieter and more shy. She always sported a bashful blush, especially when they spent cool evenings together in comfortable silence. He noted that she was clinger than ever before. Despite the tangible burn of desire in her eyes, she remained controlled and didn't verbalize her want to be close. Not that she needed to, her body spoke for itself.
Elijah left for the gym. He wasn't expecting to find Clara awake when he got home. However, the smell of garlic and lemon wafted from the hallway into his kitchen, where she stood at the stove in a tattered shirt and pajama bottoms. The bottoms were ripped and tattered at the end. The dye was faded. A well loved item that probably needed to be recycled into something new because the holes at her bottom were beginning to expand a little too much.
He stood in the archway for a while. Musing how sweaty he was and how this tiny woman was humming and sashaying her hips to an imaginary tune. He chest tightened and a warm pool filled his body. He couldn't take his eyes off her. How could he? She looked regal.
The warm light shinning overhead and her elegance as she danced from place to place. Her coarse onyx hair thrown lazily above her hair. In weeks, she has consumed his home in this comfort and coziness. Little trinkets she stared at too long he purchased and added to his home. Making it hers too. Throw pillows and blankets, a carpet and tapestry. Even string lights for the bedroom. All of this he gathered from her eyes and "empty" rambles. But, those were just items. Elijah noted that it was she who made this place home. It was her tuneless hums and her school supplies on his desk. Her very presence. It was his home.
Nonetheless, the decorations were a reminder of her sweet spirit. That she was real and chose to exist in his space.
She turned and jumped at his silent entrance. "You scared me!" She whined. Her body floated into his arms, where he wrapped himself around her shoulders. "You're so sweaty!" She giggled. Her palms pushed at his waist in a teasing way. Elijah bit her bait. He squished her closer to which she burst out into a fit of giggles and squeals.
When she was released, he leaned back against the wood frame. He looked down and admired how the fluorescent light illuminated her bright cheeks and ruffled midnight hair. Framing her diminutive silhouette with yellow, ivory, brightness. "You look beautiful." He exclaimed.
Her face became pinker and she coyly looked away. A pause passed with neither willing to disrupt this moment.
"I'm making linguini and clams."
He inhaled the garlic. Enjoying the comfortable ache in his stomach. He realized his sweat dried down and he stunk. "I'm gonna shower. I'll be out in twenty. Thank you for making dinner. You didn't have to." He kissed her temple and walked back into the shadowed hallway.
Clara watched his back as he walked. Her eyes trailed down to his bottom. She grinned, her lip caught in her teeth. She felt blessed to watch it as he sauntered away. Who wouldn't want to wake up and see that, she mused.
She returned to her dish. She stirred the lemon and clam mixture, her mind escaping to her imagination and memory.
She hadn't seen Florence since that event. They were at odds because Clara confronted her friend (over a text so Elijah could peer edit her statements) and she refused to apologize. After all, she had to stand by her boyfriend even if he did say mean things to her. Her friend was embarrassed that Clara made a scene and stormed out. She also said she had to pay for her lunch and that she owed her the money back.
Suffice to say, Clara was very hurt by her friend. She didn't stand up for her and, in fact, blamed her. To make matters worse, they were roommates. Her roommate was the original tenet and her parents owned the apartment. After their heated text messages, Clara was locked out. A box filled with some of her belongings were in front of the door, but the rest was either still in the apartment or stolen.
Elijah offered her refuge. She was very thankful, though cautious about their living circumstances. She wouldn't allow herself to stay here too long. What if Elijah got mad at her like her friend? What if everything went wrong and she was truly homeless this time? She had no idea what to do. She was broke. The job she had could never afford her an apartment and though her parents did give her an allowance, it was only ever enough for half of her rent and utilities. It would take months of saving and working overtime to even afford a deposit. Her grades were already slipping. She didn't have a ton of time and she really couldn't afford to sacrifice her grades. If they slipped too low, then she would have her money deducted by her parents.
She was lost. Utterly lost on what her next move should be. How was she supposed to tackle this issue? Her parents never told her what to when she storms out of dinner because her roommates boyfriend calls her "ching chong" instead of her name and her roommate refuses to side with her and then kicks her out. There was no blue print. No map. No tools. Nothing. She was alone.
Well, she remarked, she wasn't completely alone. Elijah was here. And when she finally told him about the xenophobic remarks made by that boy, Elijah was more mad than her. So mad, in fact, that they went to her apartment and Elijah egged the door and window before slashing her roommates tire. Elijah promised that he would get justice for her. He offered her a home when she had none. He fed her snacks and supported her through her studying. He pet her head and gave her a shoulder massage when she seemed especially tense. He accommodated her tastes and bought things she enjoyed. No, she wasn't alone.
Nonetheless, she couldn't just mooch off of him. She wasn't raised that way. Her parents hated people who mooched. Everyone had to be useful. Thus, she decided that if she took on the house duties: cooking, cleaning, and maybe even decorating that would be enough for her to temporarily prove her worth to the household.
Elijah came into the kitchen later. She was sitting at the dinner table thoughtfully. Waiting for him to finish his shower. "Hey." He softly walked over to her. She leaned toward him sending a quiet greeting back. "Smells delicious." He kissed her cheek and admired the delicate blush that adorned her face at his willingness to show affection.
"You know you didn't have to cook for me. You don't need to anything but take care of yourself. The rest we can do together." He murmured. He rested his cheek on her hairline, basking in her fragrance.
"I know, but I feel bad not doing anything."
"It's okay. I obviously don't mind. If this makes you feel comfortable, do it. I want this to be your home too. Your cooking is far better than mine anyway."
They ate in silence, but they were content with not speaking.
YOU ARE READING
The Older Man
Romance"So fucking tiny," his rough skin touches the smoothness of her wrist. She blushes at his thoughtful gaze and wonders how she even got into the predicament she's in. He was an older man, so old she had to sneak around to see him. He was calloused an...
