You put down your book.
Your mind is restless and not even Hemingway can calm it.
You've had ideas and inspiration has hit in the last few days.
A new book? Something slightly autobiographical.
Correction. Completely autobiographical, just a few key name changes.
You started a few days ago, unsure if it was even a good idea. You thought an old favourite would help push it, her, your subject out of your head. But you'd forgotten, Hemingway only has lovely things to say about her.
You hear Lydia in Mathew's room. "Oh my God! No way!"
She rushes into the living room, newspaper in her hand, red hair curly and loose about her face, and stands before you. "Guess what?"
"What?"
"The Boyd Theatre is showing 'How to Steal a Million!"
"So?" You smirk at her excitement.
"So? It's only my favourite Audrey movie! We have to go!" She points her index finger at you and smiles.
You stand up and take the paper from her, and glance across the page. "I don't have to do anything." You tell her without looking up.
"Jess!" She whines. "Math and Chris are in New York. You are my only friend left in Philly. You have to come. I can't go by myself."
"No." You tell her and head to the kitchen. She follows you and watches, propped up against the door jam, as you make a pot of coffee. You automatically flick the kettle on to boil water for her tea.
"I'll pay." She offers and you remain silent as you place a teabag in her mug. It's bright blue with the words 'Happiness is a cup of tea & a new magazine' on.
"I'll watch any movie you want tomorrow night." Tomorrow. Thursday, a regular movie night since she'd been staying there. Just over a month, starting with 'Pretty Woman'. "Even 'Almost Famous'!" She bargains. She had vetoed the movie every time you suggested it.
You pour your coffee and fill her mug with boiling water before you turn back to her.
"Please, Jess. If you care about me at all you'll do this for me."
And suddenly you're seventeen again, and you're being asked to get along with someone's mother. "What makes you think I care about you?" It worked then, why not now?
She seems taken aback, her arms dropping to her side and her mouth slightly open. Then her mouth snaps closed, her eyes harden and she moves her hands to her hips. This conversation isn't going to follow the same path it did six years previous. No stammering, no flustered answers. Just a girl who knows what she wants.
"You made me tea." She picks up the mug and takes a sip. "Plus I've seen the way you look at me. You don't just care, you like me. Yes, you pretend to find me annoying, but you realise how boring your life would be without me in it! And you will do this for me."
You pick up your coffee and head back to the living room. You notice your forgotten novel on the sofa. Maybe Hepburn can do what Hemingway failed.
"Okay."
"Okay? Really?" She smiles and you nod once.
"But, we are watching 'Almost Famous' tomorrow."
"Fine! Whatever! I mean Billy Crudup's pretty hot!" She walks towards you and kisses your cheek before turning on her heel and heading back to Mathew's room. "We're leaving in an hour and a half. Be ready!" she calls over her shoulder.
You wonder how she does it. Maybe's she's right. You do care. A little too much.
