I'm Normally Perfect (re-upload)

Chapter Twenty-Five

'I don't want to take you from your story.'

There was no way I was going to leave her on her own with that dejected expression, 'What do you want to do?'

She smiled at my willingness to forgo work, 'I don't know. I...just...don't want to be alone.'

'You don't have to be,' I linked my arm in hers, 'You have your lap dog. I'll get my story and we can veg out in your room.'

She smiled, 'I'm not sure I've ever "vegged" before.'

'Oh, it's quite difficult, but I can teach you.' I retrieved my notebook and journal and we went to her room and settled at the table in front of the fireplace. I noodled out some story ideas whilst Alex sketched across from me. When the clock in the hall struck twelve I stood and stretched.

'I'm going to bed, if that's all right.'

She chuckled, 'Of course it is, you're not my minder. Thank you for sitting with me.'

I bowed deeply, 'Happy to be of assistance.' I kissed her on the cheek, 'Sleep well.'

I smiled at her before closing her door and returning to my room. I was so proud to have given something back—our relationship seemed so one sided. It pained me that the only time I felt as though I were returning the affection she gave was when she was sad—I didn't want her to ever be sad. At least she felt better now. And I got some work done on my story. It seemed like I was more productive when Alex was happy. I suppose that was because when she was content so was I and I worked better then. I didn't understand how those authors that had major mental and/or drug problems ever produced anything. It was supposedly therapeutic for them, but when I was feeling even a little under the weather breathing seemed too much an effort, let alone trying to create an entire world out of thin air.

The rest of the fortnight in Essex was spent in the library (me) or in the painting studio (Alex). She seemed in a fine mood when we weren't around Anthony and we only saw him at lunch and supper, and then the tone was one of only the most minor civility. Obviously, whatever had been said that evening was fairly unforgivable. I wanted to know what it was that happened in nineteen eighty that upset her so, but I didn't want to ask her and I couldn't ask anyone else, as I felt it improper to discuss her private affairs with someone other than her.

The ride back was worse than the ride in, as it was growing colder and rain had frozen on the motorway. By the time we reached Kidlington we were going about five miles an hour and visibility was nil. I'm still surprised that we found the turning off that led to the house. It'd snowed again and it was just deep enough that the garage door couldn't open and after toting the dogs in through the front door, we retrieved a shovel to clear off the way. We took turns shovelling until the garage door could be opened and Alex put the car in. Once safely (and warmly) inside we sat at the table in the kitchen with mugs of hot chocolate.

I said, 'Ok. I'm over the novelty of snow. It can stop now.'

She warmed her hands on her mug, 'Who's going to clear off the drive the first day of Hilary?'

'I suppose we could flip a coin for it.' I had a sip of hot cocoa, 'Maybe it will all be gone by then.'

She laughed, 'In twenty four hours?'

'Hey, you don't know. Maybe.' I looked down to find Cate the Great gazing up at me, 'Uh oh, Cate's giving me that look.'

Alex craned her neck to see, but couldn't, 'What look?'

'You know, The Look.'

She chuckled, 'Then I supposed you get to be the one to clear off a patch of grass for her. Lucky you.'