Alan turned on the TV and flicked listlessly through the channels. After such an intense evening, it had felt somewhat anti-climactic when Rosalie walked out of the door with her suitcase and a lingering kiss on his cheek the week before. He had slipped his card into her coat pocket just in case. She really was a rocket of a woman – she reminded him a little of Tara in many ways. With a pang, he wondered if the night terrors were really a part of him dealing with her loss from his life. Each night since the party he had been having them again, each more terrifying than before. He decided to take a walk to clear his head rather than sitting in the suite all alone. He could even stop in at a bar on the way home and take in some music, or perhaps go to the movies. Isolation didn't bother him, he quite liked his own company; but loneliness did bother him.
In the park, Alan stopped to sit on a bench and watch the young couples walking hand in hand along the paths and the old folks dodder along on their zimmerframes. Nature likes balance, he thought. All things come with duality; night and day, black and white, male and female. In fact he should probably write that down to use in a closing argument at some point in the future. Sat thinking, his cellphone buzzed in his pocket and it was an unfamiliar number.
"Alan Shore."
"He has Alzheimer's, doesn't he?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Denny. He has Alzheimer's." Rosalie sighed at the other end of the phone. "He didn't want to tell me that he forgot he'd invited me to the party."
"Why do you think this?"
"He sent me a bouquet of flowers and a cheque for $5,000 to apologise to me, with a note that said something about mad cow disease," Rosalie scoffed. "I didn't cash the cheque."
"I didn't think you would." There was a long pause. "Rosalie? Are you still there?"
"Listen, I've extended my sabbatical and pushed back my trip to France. I think I should try and see him whilst he can… whilst I have the time available to me. Could you recommend me a place to stay?"
"There's an excellent suite on the fourteenth floor of my hotel, I believe you've seen one just like it."
"Alan, I can't afford that right now. Not with the cost of maintaining the house. I was thinking maybe a rental or something?"
"Nonsense. Come and stay with me." He spoke without thinking and surprised himself with the offer. Rosalie was clearly surprised as well as she stuttered.
"Uhh, Alan, I'm n-not really sure…"
"A couple of days, just until you find a place. I'll sleep on the couch if you prefer."
"I think I'd prefer you in your bed if that's the offer on the table," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. He also felt it in his groin. "I'm going to fly down tomorrow afternoon. Perhaps we could get dinner?"
"I'll make a reservation. How about Italian?"
"I get enough of that in my day job, Alan," she laughed. "Anything but Italian."
Sat in his office the next morning, Alan couldn't concentrate on much. Undoubtedly he had important things to be doing, but the thought of seeing Rosalie later was too delicious to ignore. He suddenly thought of the way she'd held the pencil in her mouth doing the crossword, the glint in her eye when she made a joke, the underwear she had left under his pillow. She was quite a woman alright. He looked up to see Brad at the door.
"Brad, what's the occasion?"
"I needed to check in on the files from the uh… Jones dispute," Brad said, looking around him before quickly shutting the door.
"There is no Jones dispute, and that's very vague even for a lie."
"Yeah I know, I just – um – do you remember the woman I was talking to at the party last week? The ridiculously attractive one?"
"If she was tall and blonde then I think I can just about picture her," Alan said with an internal grin.
"Well I didn't see her leave and no one caught her name, and as it was your party I thought you could, y'know, introduce me again?"
"Sorry Brad, I didn't know her either. Ask Denny."
"I did, and he said he didn't invite any hot blondes. If anyone would know then surely Denny would." Brad rubbed his chin and shook his head gently. "Guess she'll always be a mystery."
"She certainly will to some of us."
Rosalie arrived late to the restaurant, and shrugged apologetically as Alan rose to greet her.
"Fashionably late?"
"Something like that." She grinned and kissed him on the cheek. "Maybe I should tell you I circled the block three times to keep you on your toes, not that I yet again failed to successfully hail a taxi." Alan smelled the perfume and cigarette smoke on her hair and sighed.
"You smell delicious."
"Down boy." He pulled out her chair for her and she sat down, her fingertips brushing the top of his hand. She was wearing a green sheer blouse and a black pencil skirt. Alan poured her a glass of red wine and raised his glass.
"It's good to see you again."
"And you Mr Shore." She tapped her glass against his delicately and sipped the wine. Alan couldn't take his eyes off her graceful neck as she swallowed. This was going to be an uncomfortable dinner. "I had my bags sent to your hotel as you'd mentioned. Thank you so much for putting me up for a few days."
"It's an absolute pleasure to have you back," he said sincerely.
"I'll try not to get in your way. I have plenty of research to be doing anyway, and I have some final year marking to finish. I brought a few books."
"I was thinking I could keep you busy."
"I'm sure you have work to do that doesn't include doing me?" She ran her foot up the inside of his leg slowly.
"I truly hope I don't."
Crashing through the door, Alan and Rosalie were kissing passionately as he fumbled for the light switch. She threw off her coat as he shut the door behind them, before he looked around in surprise. There were at least seven suitcases piled neatly by the couch.
"Are you moving in?!"
"Books," she shrugged, sliding her skirt down and pulling her shirt off to reveal a black corseted bodysuit. Alan felt himself staring at her willowy curves and realized some things weren't worth worrying about.
"Books," he agreed as he picked her up by the waist and carried her into the bedroom.
