Phone. Ringing. Ring. Ring. Ring. The sound was extremely slow in penetrating my sleep. But eventually I struggled across the bed and grabbed the phone awkwardly off the hook.
"Hello," (ahem), I tried the word again, "hello."
"Lucy?" It was Annie. Of all the people who said they would call "later", Annie was not one of them. In fact I realized I hadn't talked to her in the past 24 hours, so she had no idea about anything that was going on.
"Hi, Annie." I said, sitting up, looking at the bright sunlight. It was just after noon. I had been asleep for about 4 hours. My head hurt, that kind of sleep hangover hurt, where you haven't had enough sleep so you are sleeping during the wrong part of the day.
"Were you asleep?" Annie asked.
"Yeah, very asleep." I answered, still a bit groggy.
"Are you sick?" Annie clearly sounded confused.
"No, just a crazy 24 hours." I admitted, reaching for the bottle of water I had left on my bed side table.
"Really?" She asked, in that did you go out and have too much to drink type tone.
"Not crazy like that." I drank some of the water. "Crazy in that I can't believe that actually happened in my life kind of way." I set the bottle of water down, and started to share the details with Annie.
"Oh my god." She said, and I thought that was the phrase that summed everything up. She said the words, and I could practically hear Rob saying them, his voice broken and crying; I could hear my nephew saying them, his voice disbelieving; I could hear my sister saying them, her voice full of concern; and I could hear myself saying them, my voice full of prayer that everything would be OK.
"Yeah. Oh my god." I said, wondering what she would react to first – Jake's ordeal, Bobby's part in it, the fact that I almost kissed Bobby, the part about Emil telling me he wanted to be with me, only me, or the part about my head spinning so fast I could barely tell which way was up.
I appreciated that while I had been talking, Annie had shown the perfect amount of empathy, with the right mix of mild humor to lighten up my mood and keep me talking. And in the end, this is what she said to me.
"I love you Lucy." She said the words in that way that only a best friend for practically your entire life can say to you and make you realize that life is probably going to be OK.
Though, as if I were talking with my sister, part of me waited for the "but." You know the one, the "but" that transitions to the tidy piece of advice, like but what were you thinking when you were about to kiss Bobby; or the but Emil is saying the right thing, I just hope he doesn't hurt you again; or the but you said this Bobby guy has kind of had a rough year, is he really available to anyone for anything or is he simply trying to figure out a way to connect and feel a part of this earth again. Well, maybe the last one was what I was thinking, but the first two were things that Annie could have definitely said. But, she didn't say them.
"Do you want me to come over?" Annie asked.
"No, really, I'm OK." I said, thinking she was an incredible friend.
"Tomorrow, breakfast?" She asked.
"Absolutely." I replied, realizing that tomorrow was Saturday and not a work day for Annie. So, we said our see you tomorrows.
Strangely enough, after talking with Annie, I ended up getting dressed and going to the market. There was nothing like a little something normal to clear the mind. I took my time browsing through produce, progressing slowly through the bakery, I even stopped and collected some fresh flowers (no lilies) to put in a face on my front hall table. It was nearing dusk as I walked the few blocks home, two sacks of groceries in hand. The day was much warmer than last night had been, it was still cold, but the sun was bright and there was no wind, so the walk felt good.
I was surprised to see someone sitting on my doorstep.When I walked up, my surprise deepened as I recognized Bobby.
"Hey." I said, watching him jump a bit, surprised that I had startled him. He looked weary, unshaven, hair disheveled. I remembered that morning he had said he had caught a case, so I knew that he hadn't slept in almost 32 hours.
"Hey." He said, rubbing his eyes with the bottoms of his palms.
"Would you like to come in?" I asked, gesturing to the door to my house.
"I have dinner." I referred to the bags of groceries. I had purchased a large container of potato soup and a nice loaf of bread.
"Yeah." He stood, taking the groceries from me. I moved to walk in front of him and opened the door. He followed me into the kitchen, setting the groceries onto the counter.
"Please, sit." I gestured to the table, pulling some things out of the bag, some bowls out of my cabinet.
"You said you caught a case." I mentioned, pulling spoons out of a drawer.
"With Logan, where is Eames?" I asked, reaching for a bread knife and cutting board.
"She took some personal days." He said, as I placed a glass of ice water in front of him, and put the bread onto the cutting board, and placed that on the table. I looked at him for a moment.
"Personal days." I repeated the phrase, knowing that was code for unscheduled leave. "I hope everything is OK."
"Yeah, her nephew is getting his tonsils out. Outpatient surgery, but she's helping out her sister." He offered, taking me a bit by surprise. I didn't know what I thought he would say when he said she took some personal days. I thought maybe it was related to him somehow. I still sensed in as much they were excellent partners, they were experiencing some differences. I knew, for example, that Eames was feeling a bit exasperated by Bobby's closed off behavior. It was hard to support someone when they wouldn't let you near them.
"How's your hand." I asked, realizing I was a bit tired myself, not really filtering my own thoughts. Normally, as tired as I knew he was, I would have tabled that remark for some other time.
"It's OK." He looked at his knuckles as I placed napkins and spoons on the table.
"Did you call her, did you call your partner the next day?" I asked. He looked at me, watching me place a bowl of soup in front of him, sitting down across from him with my own bowl of soup and glass of water.
"No." He admitted.
"It's hard, calling someone, sometimes." I fiddled with my spoon.
"It's hard to do the right thing, and tell someone where you stand." I said, not really knowing if I was talking to him about him, or talking to him about me.
"I guess." He said, eating.
"She was concerned, for you, you know." I offered, wondering how he would take my interference. He ate for a while, not responding.
"Yeah, I know." He said, finally.
"And you?" He asked.
"Me what?"
"Are you concerned for me?" He asked. He did not ask the question lightly, and he was not flirting with me, or fishing for my feelings. He was asking me, if I was concerned for him, concerned in a significant way that should have him concerned about himself.
"No, I'm not concerned for you. Are you concerned for you?" I asked, my voice very soft.
"Not when I'm this tired." He replied, turning the tone of the conversation.
"What are we doing?" I asked.
"Eating dinner." He replied. And, I left it alone. I didn't know what I expected him to say. But a large part of me wanted him to tell me what he was feeling. Though, that would have been a bit out of the ordinary for him. He had the ability to study someone else, and discuss at great length what they were feeling, what they were thinking, what was motivating them. But when it came to himself, he rarely discussed how he was feeling. He tended to show how he was feeling in the way he was acting.
"Right." I smiled.
"Bobby." I continued, "thanks for last night, thanks for…" I didn't know what else to say.
"Its my job." He replied, looking at me. I remembered what I had thought as I listened to him talking with Rob, trying to connect with such a troubled kid, trying to do it quickly to resolve an impossible situation. He was right it was his job, but it was more than that, much more.
"I should, uh, go." He said, looking at me. "Get some, um, sleep." He offered, standing. I stood as well, clearing the bowls into the sink.
"I just, that is, I just wanted." He said, looking at me, kind of studying me. He seemed to stammer the worst through words when he was trying to express something that he hadn't quite thought through.
"I'm OK." I replied, and he smiled, tilting his head a bit, in a way that was becoming familiar to me.
"OK." He said. "Thanks for dinner."
"Anytime." I said, and I didn't say it casually. He nodded, indicating he knew what I meant; he knew that my door was open to him.
"Thanks." He mumbled the word this time, without looking at me.
"I have this thing, Sunday, that I need to uh, that I should, um…" He started to say, and I listened.
"That I need to do." He kind of completed his thought. "I was thinking that maybe, you could, or that you would…" He started to say.
"Call me." I said, not even knowing what he was talking about, but knowing that I would be there for whatever it was. He was so full of contradiction. At times, he practically radiated need, a vulnerability that drew you in, but at the same time he managed to keep people at a distance.
"OK." He smiled that somewhat lopsided smile. "I'll call you." He said. I nodded and followed him to the door.
"Good night." I said to him.
"I hope so." He mumbled. I stood at my door and watched him go down my front walk and get into his car.
A/N: Thanks for getting me past my "chapter 13" :)