Cal didn't tell her he was coming. It had been three weeks since he left New York, and in that time they'd spoken on the phone nearly every day. Most of their conversations weren't long. Cal paid for the long distance charges, but Rose still wouldn't stay on the phone very long.
"It isn't right for you to pay for all of it," she said. "I'm here too."
"But I can pay for it," he reminded her. "Easily."
"I don't care."
And that was that. He didn't argue with her. Nothing he said would have changed her mind, and he didn't want to waste the few minutes they had. Every day he looked forward to their phone call. And now, thanks to some careful maneuvering, he was going back, for a month at least.
…
As he stepped off the train, Cal wondered if he'd done the right thing by not telling her. He wanted to surprise her, but what if she thought he was being presumptuous? Was it fair to just show up at her apartment unannounced? He went to the hotel first and changed. Still unsure, he called her.
"This is earlier than usual," he said.
"I have some free time."
"And you wanted to spend it with me?" she said.
"Yes," he replied.
Rose laughed. "You don't ever joke, do you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're always so serious," she said. "So stern. Imposing."
"Are those bad things to be?"
"If you take them too far," she replied. "It's alright to laugh a little, dear."
"I like when you call me that."
"I know," she said, smiling.
"So, you don't have any plans tonight?" he asked.
"No. Why?"
"I was just curious," he said, smiling to himself.
…..
Rose did have things to do that night, thought they weren't the sort of things Cal would ever think about. She had an apartment to clean, a shopping list to make, and books to read. She had just finished with the kitchen when she heard him knock. Quickly, she re-tied her hair and dried her hands. Her eyes widened in astonishment when she found Cal waiting in the hallway.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were still in Pittsburg."
"I left last night," he said. "I thought I'd surprise you." Her hair was still unruly, despite her efforts, and she wore an old, faded dress and no shoes. But she was lovely to him. She really didn't need ornate gowns or jewels, he realized, again, though he still wanted to cover her in them.
"Well, you certainly did that," she said. "Come in." Rose was surprised by how at ease she felt. She'd expected to be self-conscious the first time he came to her apartment. It was so small and shabby compared to the places he lived. It was crammed with book shelves. There was art on the walls. She only had a tiny kitchen, bathroom, and a bed/sitting room. Her bed was in a sort of nook, with windows around it. She had only a few chairs. Cal looked around, taking everything in. "Go on, you can say it," she said.
"Say what?"
"Say you hate it. I know you do."
"I don't," he said. "It reminds me of you."
"And that's a good thing?"
"That's a very good thing," he said.
"I'm cleaning right now," she said apologetically. "Do you mind if I finish?"
"No. I'll just—" He searched for an occupation.
"You could help," she suggested.
"Help?" he said. "I wouldn't know how. I've never cleaned a room before." As he said it, he knew how ridiculous it must sound to her. But she was from the same world; she had to understand.
"Then it's time you learned," she said, putting a dust rag in his hand.
Cal looked at it as if it might bite him. "What do you want me to do?"
"The kitchen's finished," she said. "We need to dust in here. Sweep. Clean the windows. Change the sheets."
"Dust everything?"
"Yes," she replied. "The furniture polish is on the table. You don't really need to use it on the books. Just run the cloth over them."
Rose swept while he dusted. She watched him, amused by his slow, uncertain movements. "It's not so bad, is it?" she said.
"It isn't something I would choose to do."
She laughed. "Well, it has to be done."
"Why not hire some to do it for you?" he asked.
"With what?"
"Oh. I guess you don't have that kind of money," he said.
"Did you forget?" she teased.
"Sometimes, I do," he said. "You're so at ease, so confident. You seem like you have plenty of money."
"Or it's just I know I can survive without it."
"I envy you," he said.
"You learn how," Rose replied. "It isn't always easy. It seemed impossible at first, but I never gave up. I figured out how to get by on my own. You have no idea how good it feels, taking care of myself after all those years of being told I couldn't. I was too delicate. I should just be quiet and look pretty."
"I was one of the people who told you that," he said.
"You didn't want me to just sit there being pretty," she said. Her tone made her meaning clear.
Cal avoided her gaze. "I know," he said, dusting faster now. "I was wrong. I was awful."
"You weren't different from anyone else we knew."
"Then we're all wrong. I never saw you as a person," he said. "You weren't like me. I mattered; I was a real person. You didn't."
"I know, dear. You don't have to go over it all again," she said. "We've moved on, haven't we?"
He turned to face her. "Yes. I want up to you, though, somehow."
Rose put a hand on his face. "You are," she said. "Being here with me, the way you did last time, the way you are now. Letting me see you."
"You see me?" he said. "Is that a good thing?"
"It's good," she said. "It's wonderful."
Cal shifted nervously. The air was thick, and his heart pounded. Her eyes filled the world, and he wondered if it was possible to drown in them. "I wish I'd—"
"Don't," she said. "We can't change the past, and I'm not sure I'd want to."
"A past with me, a good one, would mean never loving Jack," he said. "You don't want to lose that."
"No, I don't. Can you live with that?"
"As long as I get you know," he said.
Jack watched from his perch on the bookcase, fighting the urge to chase Cal out of there, frighten him so badly he'd never come near Rose again, so he could be alone with her again. So things could go back to the way they were. But that wouldn't be fair. He couldn't take happiness away from her. Hadn't he been the one who wanted her to live as much as she could?
He still wanted that. He just hated that he didn't get to do any of that living with her. Jack was surprised by how much he preferred Cal over Michael. Her smiles were brighter with him. He seemed to understand her. But he'd hurt her, and Jack wasn't about to let it happen again.
…..
Cal looked around, proud of his efforts. "So, that's all there is to it," he said.
"This was light cleaning," Rose replied. "Just wait until it's time for spring cleaning."
He liked the way she said it, as if it were a given that he would still here there when spring arrived. "What now?" he asked.
"Now I have to make a shopping list for tomorrow."
"Really?" he said, interested.
"Don't get too excited. I'm only shopping for food."
"Speaking of, how about put that aside until later, and we have dinner," he suggested. "It's getting late. You must be hungry. I am."
"I wasn't planning to have a big dinner," she said. "I don't have much right now. Before you arrived, I was just going to have a sandwich while I read."
Cal frowned. "Is that all?"
"Yes. It's a perfectly acceptable meal."
"You need more than that," he said. "Aren't you hungry again later?"
Rose didn't want to admit that yes, sometimes she was. Even now, after years of budgeting and learning how to make her small earnings last, there were still weeks when the money ran out too quickly, or when an unexpected expense left her short, and she ate only coffee and rolls. Some nights she stayed up reading or knitting, not because she wanted to, but because she was hungry and couldn't sleep. "No," she said. "I don't need much."
Cal studied her face. He knew she was lying. Finally he said, "Then neither do I."
….
Rose didn't have a couch. They didn't bother with the chairs, silently agreeing they wouldn't do. They needed to be closer than chairs would allow. They ended up on the floor, backs against her bed. "I haven't sat on the floor in years," Cal said.
"Of course you haven't," Rose said, pleasantly. Their hands were clasped, their bare feet touching. "You don't have arches," she noticed.
"No. I never did."
"I didn't know that could happen."
"It's not common," he said. "My parents worried about it."
"Really?"
"They sent me to doctors to make sure I would learn to walk properly," he said.
"That sounds awful," she said sympathetically.
Cal shrugged. "They don't accept imperfections."
"I know. I've met them."
"They liked you though, remember?"
"Do you think they're like me now?" she laughed
"No," he said honestly. Their faces were close. She tried not to look at his mouth, but it was difficult when he kept looking at hers. "It doesn't matter," he added. Was it his imagination, or were they moving closer? "I love you," he said, as their lips met.
His arms were around her now. Rose wanted to reply but not more than she wanted to kiss him. Their kisses were never like this before. They had always been cold and perfunctory on her side and harsh and demanding on his. But now they fit perfectly together, giving affection freely. Rose's hand moved through his hair. It was so much softer than she'd ever realized. They were breathless when it ended. "I love you," he said again, into her hair.
Rose buried her face in his shirt. "You never said that to me."
"I've only said it to one other person," he replied.
"If I say it, you can't die. You can't leave me as soon as you hear it."
"I won't," Cal promised. "I won't fail you again."
What was she doing? Was she crazy? She heard her former self furiously scolding, demanding an explanation. She was trusting Cal, of all people? She thought she was in love with him? But she was; she knew it. Nothing had felt this right since Jack. She didn't know why it was happening, but she didn't want it to end. "I love you too," she said.
Jack bit his fingers to stay quiet. But I love her! he yelled silently. I loved her first.
…..
"I'm going to be in New York a lot more," Cal said. "I've arranged it so I can work from here."
"So, I won't be seeing you after all," Rose said jokingly.
"No, you will. That's why I did it."
She laughed and shook her head. "What's it like being able to do anything you want?"
"Lonely," he said. "It makes you a horrible person, or at least, it made me one. Eventually, no-one worth caring about wants to be anywhere near you."
"You don't have to use all of that power selfishly," she said. "There are so many good things you could do instead."
"I can think of a few things to do for you."
"I'm not talking about me," she replied. "I'm fine."
"Let me help you anyway," he said. "I want to."
"No," Rose insisted.
"I'm not talking about luxuries. I know you've cast those off forever," Cal said. "I'm talking about practical things, things you need."
"What I can't get I'll manage without," she said. "It isn't so bad."
But Cal was unconvinced. Her apartment was too small and draft. How she didn't freeze to death he didn't know. She didn't have enough food. She needed new clothes. Her shoes were worn from all the walking she did. She looked tired. It was obvious she needed a long rest, away from her job and the worry of her life. He was determined to give it all to her, somehow.
….
"Why didn't you ever leave New York?" Cal asked.
"I don't know," Rose answered. "I kept planning to. I saved money, decided where I would go, but I just never did." She shrugged. "When it came time to leave, I couldn't. It was like I was frozen. I'd think no, not yet; it isn't the right time."
"What about now?"
"What do you mean?" she said. "You think I should still leave?"
"Not immediately, but do you still want to?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "I feel like I've been wasting my life here."
"You wouldn't have left if you'd married Michael," he pointed out.
"We might have," she said. "We talked about it." But she knew he was right. Wasn't that part of Michael's appeal? With him everything had been so simple' their life was already laid out, and once that had been suffocating, but by the time he asked her to marry him, it had sounded nice. Safe. Comforting. Adventures were too dangerous alone. She didn't know how Jack had done it. She didn't know Jack had watched her all that time, fervently wishing he could give her back her strength. When had she lost it? It happened slowly, the fire dimming a little each time she found herself alone and realized no-one cared what happened to her. If she died there would be no grief. All the plans she made during those first months turned to ash, and nothing she did changed them back.
Rose's eyes were heavy, and Cal wished he hadn't brought it up. He put his hand on her cheek. "I'm sorry,' he said.
"You haven't done anything," she said.
"I've done so many things to be sorry for." He stroked her cheek with his fingertips. It was the place where he'd hit her; he always touched that spot, as if by loving her now he could erase that moment. Rose put her hand over his and leaned into his palm. Everything was different now, with him.
"You make me happy," she said. "It's hard, though, because I didn't let myself admit I wasn't before."
He kissed her jaw. "I love you," he said.
Rose smiled. "Say it again."
He gently turned her head so their eyes met. "Rose, I love you."
"I love you." It felt so good to say it. She couldn't remember ever telling Michael she loved him; the most she'd ever said was how fond of him she was. That paltry feeling didn't compare to this. Cal was frustrating. He said things she wanted left quiet, but didn't she do that to him as well? He was sheltered and oblivious in so many ways but brilliant in others. He made her laugh. He made her feel alive. He had such reserves of hidden warmth. He made her feel safe. When he took her in his arms she felt the way she imagined a ball of wool might, once it's been wound up. Neat and at peace.
"It's late," Cal said. "Do you want me to go?"
"Do you want to stay?"
He nodded. "I want to stay."
"Would you like some tea? When it's cold, I drink a cup before I go to bed."
"Alright," he said.
Cal watched Rose make tea. He looked around her kitchen, impressed by how clean and pretty it was. On a shelf were three tea pots, one purple, one white, and one blue with small flowers painted on it. "I collect tea pots," she said, taking down the white one. "If you can call three a collection."
"They're nice." She was the only woman he'd ever known who preferred tea pots and books to diamonds and silk dresses. It was baffling. But that was why he loved her, wasn't it?
…
Rose's bed was barely big enough for the both of them. She wore soft flannel pajamas. He had nothing to wear, but she didn't seem to mind if he slept in his shorts. Nothing of hers was big enough, even though her pajamas were made for men. As his clothes came off she looked at him. His heart beat faster. Women looking at him wasn't new. Being desired wasn't new either. He was well aware of his power to attract women. But this was different. Cal cared what Rose thought. This wasn't an empty affair; being wanted briefly wasn't enough. And the half-smile she wore made it even clearer that nothing he usually did would impress her. He remembered her words the night they danced. Maybe she was right. Maybe he did make love the way he danced. When you buy women the way he had, who would complain? Cassandra hadn't, though. And he'd loved her too. Not as much as Rose. He would give it all up for Rose. Everything, his money, his life. He was certain. When he held her, he knew he would do anything to keep holding her.
Rose settled against him, her head pressed into his chest. Her arm was curved over him. His arms were around her, one under, one over. So what if one arm went to sleep? She breathed him in and sighed happily. "Comfortable?" he asked.
"Yes. Are you?"
"Perfectly," he said.
"Tell me more. Tell me about after Cassandra."
No-one else ever wanted to know these things about him. Until she began asking, Cal hadn't realized how badly he wanted to tell someone. "Alright," he said. "After it ended I went back home…" He talked until he was sure she was asleep. He closed his eyes and kissed her forehead, waiting for sleep to come. But it didn't. Instead doubts came.
You'll hurt her again. You'll hold her too tightly, and she'll hate you for it. Again. She'll run away. Again. You'll fail her, just like you did before. Just like you failed Cassandra. Who are you kidding? You can't give up anything. You need power too much. You can't live without having your own way.
Cal couldn't banish them. They crowded his mind, and he remembered the intoxication of rage. It wasn't something he felt often anymore. Most people didn't oppose him. It was addicting, the rush of power, the blinding clarity. When he was caught in rage nothing of himself was left. He felt invincible. He'd teetered on the edge of that abyss the whole time he was engaged to Rose. Was loving her, was trying to change, wanting to protect and save her, the way he was supposed to back then, enough to keep him away from that edge? "It will be," he promised, both her and himself.
But he was still afraid, and in the darkness, Jack sensed it and watched them.
