Excerpt: Involves Tomatoes

By the time I got home I was a nervous wreck, walking with a peculiar twitch as I constantly scanned over each shoulder, still paranoid that someone was going to jump out at me or creep up on me. I wondered if this was going to become a permanent habit.

I actually ran the last twenty feet to the front door, unlocked it with feverish pace, and slammed through it as quickly as I could, finding myself in the lobby breathing hard and trying to convince myself that this was a perfectly reasonable, normal and understandable reaction. Whether it was or not I don’t know, but the urge to get inside had been so strong that I could not have argued with it if I had wanted to – and I didn’t.

Standing in the lobby with my heart beating so hard I could feel it thudding produced an intense rush of déjà vu. With an almost physical sharpness I remembered how I’d felt rushing in here, running from the awful storm and my attacker and my rescuer. I shuddered. Standing here was not a lot better than walking along the street outside, and I forced myself to walk, not run, out of the lobby, up the stairs and, with my pulse finally slowly to a more sedate pace, along the hallway and towards the sanctuary of my flat.

I was searching in my bag for my keys when I realised out of the corner of my eye that there was someone standing at my door, someone who had evidently just knocked, and who was even now about to turn around and see me. I swallowed hard, stopping dead for a second, and then almost laughed with relief as my tired brain went from panic to recognition. It was Jay.

“I was just coming up to… to check and see how you were. I didn’t know whether you’d be going in to work today or not, and I thought…” He looked rather embarrassed to admit that he was checking up on me and I loved him for it.

“I did go in. It just turned out to be a really bad idea. They gave me the rest of the week off; to be honest if I hadn’t been in such a state then maybe that wouldn’t have happened, so on second thoughts maybe it was for the best.” I pulled a face.

“So… how are you doing?”

The question was asked with such genuine concern that the tears that had dried on my journey home started to prick my eyelids again. I blinked rapidly, trying to make them disperse without any of them escaping down my face.

Shock is misleading – it lets you think you’re fine, and then it hits you in the face. Not that I had been thinking that I was fine; falling apart at work isn’t listed under fine in my dictionary. But I’d convinced myself that as soon as I got home I would be OK, or somewhere close to OK.

It turned out I was wrong. The more I sniffed back tears the more of them seemed to appear, and to my horror I suddenly seemed to be dissolving into a puddle.

As I slowly dissolved Jay reached out and pulled me close, enveloping me in a warm, close embrace, gently rubbing my back. For a moment I worried about leaking tears all over his suit, and then I just gave in and let myself sink into his arms.

Once I had calmed down a little I was able to savour and enjoy the unexpected hug; as I’ve mentioned before, I’m a bit of a hug tart, and this was a good one even by my high and exacting standards. More than that, though, it was so intensely reassuring to be held close, and allowed to feel safe; something that I was appreciating even more than usual, for obvious reasons.

I heard Jay take in a long, slow breath, and I suddenly got the overwhelming impression he was smelling my hair. I swallowed hard against the sudden constriction in my throat. No; surely I was mistaken. Much as I would have liked – would have loved – to believe that I was right, I dismissed the thought.

Slowly he released me, and I tottered slightly, caught off balance physically and mentally.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern obvious in his voice and his expression as he steadied me with a hand on my arm. I glanced down to where he was touching me, and then back up to his face, and nodded, trying to hide the fact that I was a little flustered.

I found that somehow I couldn’t look away. There was a zing between us that had not been there a minute ago – I half expected the air to crackle with electricity. I blinked, and it didn’t go away; I had scarcely enough time to take in his expression, to wonder, to hope, and to think “Oh my, he’s actually going to kiss me,” and then we heard footsteps from somewhere along the hallway and the moment was lost.

“I’m fine,” I squeaked, looking away. I wasn’t fine.

When the footsteps faded, their owner having apparently turned down a side corridor, I wanted to swear. I glanced up at Jay and I could almost see his thoughts; it was quite one thing to be caught in the emotion of a split second and allow oneself to be swept into whatever might happen. Quite another to consciously move in for a kiss, and evidently now the impulse had passed he wasn’t sure he was ready for that.

He smiled uneasily at me. “Um. Well. I’d better go. I, uh, have a meeting. But you know where I am, OK? I’m in and out, but if you call me or leave a message I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

I nodded. “Thank you Jay; I really appreciate that.” My thanks came out a little formal and dry which I instantly regretted. I reached out a hand and straightened the collar of his smart work shirt, not knowing how else to convey my gratitude and soften my awkward words.

Something must have registered. Before he turned to walk away he smiled, warmly and openly this time. I wanted to grab him, pull his lovely mouth down to mine, kiss him; recapture and reclaim the magic. But I’ve never been all that brave. If I had been only a little braver I would have called after him, invited him in for a coffee, anything to bring him back; but the words wouldn’t come.

When he had disappeared around the corner, I let myself flop against the wall. So close… so close. And yet, I reminded myself, if it had happened, almost happened, once, then it could happen again. I hoped. All I could do was hope.