Emily’s Diary – Entry 23

Under My Skin

I realized I'd never truly had a real man. One who was a man from head to toe, twenty-four hours a day.

One morning the intercom buzzed. A courier stood downstairs with a package.

Above the address, all it said was: Emily.

Baffled, I took it inside. I carefully unwrapped the outer packaging. Inside was a pair of binoculars. Nothing else. No note, no sender. I had no idea who could have sent it. I didn't even open the box. I set it down in the hallway, just in case someone came looking because it had gone to the wrong address — though judging by the name, that seemed unlikely.

Not long after, my phone rang. Ben. I froze.

What if he was calling to lecture me again? About how you don't send idiotic drunk messages to men over forty?

For a second I almost didn't pick up. Curiosity won out.

"Do you have a window facing the river?" he asked, his voice unusually excited.

"Sure. Why?"

"Grab the binoculars, fast, and look at the water! Hurry!"

His excitement was contagious. Without thinking, I lunged for the box, tore it open, pulled out the binoculars, and made it to the balcony in a couple of jumps.

"Well?" he pressed.

"Wait..." I panted, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder while desperately trying to focus the binoculars.

My heart slammed so hard it shook my whole chest.

My mouth fell open.

It was the blue yacht.

"Holy shit..." I whispered hoarsely.

"You see it?" he asked, almost breathless.

"Yeah..." I breathed.

"Don't lose sight of it! I'm about to catch up!"

A few seconds later a speedboat shot into view behind it. It tore past, and once it was well ahead, it suddenly spun around and came at the yacht head-on.

Somewhere deep down I knew this wasn't a real chase. My brain believed it anyway, readily, swallowing whatever my eyes handed it. I was shaking with excitement. I almost forgot to breathe.

The speedboat finally pulled up alongside the yacht.

"Got it! I got it back! I'm going to disappear for a while now — I've still got a bit to take care of..." he said in a rush, and before I could get a word out, he hung up.

I just stood there, staring at the water. I don't even remember whether I saw the two boats vanish from sight.

It left me shocked and thrilled at once.

For days I thought I'd embarrassed myself.

Meanwhile, this is what he'd been putting together.

I turned the binoculars over in my hands, smiling.

Does this kind of thing actually exist?

From then on it took everything I had to concentrate on work. What I really wanted to tell him was: Listen, Ben, this really isn't good timing. I need some peace until the end of August. Just hold out another month and a half, please. After that I'm up for any adventure you want, just don't shake me up right now.

Meanwhile, of course, I sat on pins and needles waiting for his next move. It was obvious the great yacht heist wasn't where the story ended. Ben doesn't do things halfway.

On Friday he finally took pity on me and sent a photo of the blue yacht.

"Everything's fine. I got it back, and I'm keeping it for you. You've already seen the sunset from it. Curious about the sunrise too? If so, I'll show you Saturday morning, early."

I read it over and over, numb, my face burning. Every time I got to "and I'm keeping it for you," my heart raced. The most beautiful, most thrilling half-sentence of my life.

And yet I don't even want anything from him.

He's old.

And besides, I'm already tangled up with Ryan. If you can even call it a tangle. He hadn't reached out since. Well, he did text once, to say he was going on vacation with the kids.

On top of it all, Adele checked in too, saying she wanted to talk. I really wasn't in the mood, but I know her well enough. If I didn't play along, sooner or later she'd twist the whole mess back onto me, and somehow I'd end up the one at fault. I had no appetite for another round of theatrics, but I wanted to get the reconciliation over with. I needed my friend. I couldn't carry all of this alone anymore.

My sleep had settled at a flat five hours. My patience was somewhere down around my ankles. I dreaded that Adele's visit would end in shouting or hair-pulling. I suspect she sensed it too, because this time she approached almost on her belly, with a timid smile. She'd brought lunch again from Dave's restaurant. This time she actually looked inside the containers.

Pea soup, grilled tuna steak with vegetables, and strawberry mousse for dessert sat on the table. We dug in as if nothing had happened. While we ate, we only talked about ordinary things.

You could have cut the tension with a knife.

"Want some coffee?" I asked after the last bite.

She pretended to think it over.

"Got any rum to go with it?" she asked lightly.

My eyebrows shot up.

"Where would I get that? I only keep gin in the house. And Mark's wines."

She pulled a face.

"Let's just pour in some gin?"

"Ugh! Have you lost your mind?" I pulled the beautiful decorative bottle out of the cupboard. "You can't just go mixing that with junk."

She grabbed it out of my hand. A hefty splash went into the glass.

"Damn... where did you even get this?"

I straightened up, proud, then took out the matching glasses too.

"I got my first paycheck. With an extra bonus on top. I wanted to break it open with you. But then..."

Her head dropped forward, weak.

"I know, damn it. I was a bitch. The bar exam is wrecking me, Dave's bitch of a secretary is wrecking me, and on top of my own workload he keeps dumping hers on me too. I'm sorry. I'm a wreck. My nerves are shot."

My eyes narrowed as I listened. By the end I was watching her frantic, hand-waving excuses through nothing but a thin slit.

So: the bar exam. Dave. The secretary.

Not her.

Not this time either.

Never.

"I'm exhausted too, you know," I said quietly. "I barely sleep anymore."

She raised an eyebrow, tucked her chin in deep.

"Can't manage your schedule, or what?"

I couldn't believe my ears.

"You know that boat dealer's catalog came through..." I had to stop myself, because saying it out loud sent a pleasant shiver through me. I cleared my throat. "So that landed on top of the telecom work."

"Haven't you been doing that one for years?" she asked sharply.

"Yes."

A blank, uncomprehending look crossed her face.

I gave up. She'll never get it. Or doesn't want to.

There are lawyers, doctors, and top executives at big corporations. In her mind, only they actually have real workloads. Everyone else just plays at working.

It occurred to me how baffled she'd been when, after my economics degree, I'd also gotten a certification as a translator. I thought she'd seen me differently since then. Apparently I was wrong. To her I'm still just a translator.

For half a second I thought about trying to make her understand what kind of responsibility it is to get a catalog done on deadline. Then I let it go. No drama until the end of August. After that I'll sort my relationships out. Until then, I'll lean on people only as much as they can handle.

"All right," Adele said, cutting it short. "Let's focus on summer. Next week we could do a light dinner at your place one evening. It's so nice to sit out on the balcony this time of year."

"Great idea," I nodded.

I'll cancel it if I have to.

*

Friday night I simply couldn't fall asleep. I was trembling with excitement. Or exhaustion. I honestly couldn't tell anymore. I lay there until dawn, staring at the ceiling. I wanted to put on some mascara to feel a little prettier, but the moment I touched it, my eyes welled up, so I gave up on that too.

From the second I spotted Ben by his car until the moment he dropped me back home, I felt like I was drifting through some strange, hypnotic dream. His scent. The strength in his arms when he helped me up onto the boat, and again later, when he helped me down. His voice, sending a soft shiver down my spine. Sometimes I caught myself staring at his mouth. His broad, masculine jaw. His thick, healthy hair.

The sunrise was beautiful, but it was nothing more than a backdrop to what was sweeping through me on a cellular level.