When they pull up to the house, Chris's car isn't there.
"Dov must have gone straight back to the hospital." Chris says, peering out the steamy window. "Couldn't help himself, I guess."
He turns back into the car and smiles at Holly.
"Thank you for the ride."
She smiles back at him. She likes this kind, boyish friend of Gail's. He is sweet. "No problem."
He turns toward the back seat. "And thanks for the front seat," he says to Gail.
Gail doesn't answer, but a pale hand slips around the headrest and squeezes his jacketed shoulder in response. He places his own hand over it for a second and then opens the door and jumps out. He turns, waves goodbye, and jogs toward the house, his face tucked into his jacket collar for warmth.
Holly looks into the rear view mirror as Gail unbuckles her seat belt in back and pushes open the door. She climbs out of the car and shuts it behind her. For a second, Holly thinks she is just going to walk away, but the front door opens and Gail climbs into the passenger seat.
Gail just sits there, her head tipped back against the headrest, without saying a word. Holly doesn't mind. She is happy just to take a minute, to just sit here with Gail, finally, now that they have all the time in the world.
Holly looks out the window and watches a light come on in the house as Chris enters and then disappear a moment later. She watches lights flick on and off as he moves around the house, getting ready for bed. Finally, the whole house falls back into complete darkness.
They sit in this easy quiet together, both staring out onto the empty street. Then, suddenly, Gail speaks.
"You know. I don't even know if you live in a house, or an apartment… or… I don't know, a log cabin."
"Sorry? What?" Holly asks, startled, looking over at her.
"Well, which is it?" Gail asks, folding her arms over her chest and shooting Holly what can only be described as an accusatory look.
Holly is stunned to silence for a second, still reeling from this, well, it's not a change of subject, exactly, but it's a change of something.
"You want to know what kind of a building I live in?" she asks slowly, trying to translate Gail into normal human language, to stay on pace with the unpredictable permutations of this girl's thoughts.
"Yes," is all Gail says, turning to fix eyes on the road ahead, pursing her lips slightly. "That's exactly what I want to know, Holly."
"Um, it's neither. Or both." Holly stutters, wondering how she can be feeling like she is in trouble for something as crazy as not having thought to describe her house to Gail before. "It's a townhouse. Well, part of a townhouse."
"Hmmph." Is all Gail says.
Holly raises an eyebrow, wondering where to go from here. Before she can say anything, Gail turns to her again, arms still crossed.
"Bedrooms?"
"You mean, how many bedrooms?" Holly asks.
"Yes, Holly. How many bedrooms?"
"Uh, one,"
Holly shakes her head. Does Gail always get like this whenever she gets in a car? She'd just thought it was the Oxy last time.
Holly decides to just go with it, though, go along for whatever stream-of-consciousness ride it is that Gail is on.
"Separate kitchen and living?"
"No."
"Shower and bath, or just shower?"
"Shower."
"Photos or paintings?"
"Uh, both." Holly sits back in her seat. This is going to go on for a while, she is guessing.
"Cat or dog?"
"Neither."
"Houseplants?"
"One or two."
"Knick knacks?"
"Um," Holly tips her head to the side, picturing her home. "No, not really. Books. Do they count as knick knacks?"
Gail ignores her question.
"Breakfast nook, or bar?"
"Kitchen island, actually" Holly responds, crossing her own arms.
She decides she can play this game too -only better.
"It's fixed in the centre of the kitchen space, about two metres from the east facing kitchen wall. It is wooden, with a walnut top, and two cupboards and three drawers on the kitchen side. The top drawer holds cutlery, the next kitchen towels. Bills and take out menus in the third. There is a small scratch on the side of the bench closest to the front door where I had an accident with a can opener. Oh..." She looks over at Gail. "And did you want to know about the stools?"
"No,' Gail tells her, imperious, refusing to meet her eye. "But I do want to know about any feature walls."
"Feature walls?" Holly blinks. "You mean those walls that are a different colour from the rest of the walls?"
"Yes, Holly, feature walls." Gail screws up her nose. "I dislike them intensely and I want to know if you have them."
"No, I don't have any."
"Good."
Holly smiles and turns toward this delightfully batty blonde in the seat next to her.
"Gail?"
"Yes, Holly?"
"Do you want to see my house?"
"Yes."
Holly looks at her. Gail's eyes don't move from the street outside. Her arms are still crossed tight over her front.
"Gail?"
Yes, Holly."
"Were you wanting...did you...want to see it now?"
Gail tilts her head to the side and shrugs. "Maybe." She blinks. "Yes."
Holly tips back her head and chuckles, feeling for the key in the ignition.
"Oh-kay then."
She pulls the cars slowly away from the curb, still chuckling. Even though she has to keep her eyes fixed ahead through the frost-blanketed windshield, she can feel Gail smiling next to her as she pulls on her seat belt.
This is a first fic. Please take a minute to review your thoughts on the story so far when you are done. Feedback is always deeply appreciated and, let's not kid ourselves (Gail Peck wouldn't), highly motivating!