Paper Houses

Chapter 2

The day was hectic as usual. Between meetings with new and prospective clients, there should have been barely enough time to think about him. But I found myself thinking about him throughout the day. His brown eyes and easy smile seemed to haunt me and on more than one occasion, I had to ask that information I'd missed be repeated.

"Earth to Delia," I blinked rapidly as my sister's voice pierced my consciousness. "You weren't listening to anything I just said, were you?" She cocked her eyebrow. I wrapped my gray poncho tightly around my body as the cool fall afternoon seeped into my bones. We were sitting on a bench in the park next to my office. It was small, but there were benches and a walking path that many people took advantage of whether the months were frigid or warm. For the past two years, we'd met here for lunch, two maybe three times a week. Gorgeous brown and yellow leaves drifted to the ground in front of us. I sighed deeply.

"No, sorry, you were saying?"

"You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question, so I didn't bother answering. "I can't wait to meet this guy. I haven't seen you like this since...." She trailed off and I lifted my gaze to hers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her dark eyes softened as she draped her arms around me. My life was a minefield. It wasn't her fault that I had chosen a few frogs in the past.

"It's fine," I shrugged. I wouldn't let him ruin this. He had left me without a word. Everything had been going great, or so I thought. But one day he'd just disappeared. His landlord hadn't heard anything from him. He hadn't quit his job. Not even the private investigator I'd hired had found him.

"Hey," Danielle's soft hands rested against my own. "He wasn't the one." I smiled sadly and nodded.

"You're right. He wasn't." I wasn't sure I believed it, but he was gone now, so I had to accept it. Danielle bit her bottom lip and looked at me with worried eyes.

"I'm okay, really," I assured her. She squeezed my hand and nodded.

"Are you going to see mom today?" she asked.

"Maybe," I responded. "Lemme see how my day goes."

"No pressure," she smiled.

"How are you?" I asked. I wasn't sure how interested I was in this line of conversation. But since most of our dialogue centered around me and my mental health, I liked to pretend that like normal people, I cared about the existence of others.

"I'm doing great. Actually, we're heading to Paris next week for a show," she announced. Her smile was as bright as a 100-watt bulb. My eyes widened in surprise and dismay.

"You're leaving?"

"Just for a bit," she responded hastily. "I'll be back before you know it." She danced with some big company in NYC. She had told me the name of the company numerous times, but I always forgot. She was incredibly talented. When she wasn't jetting across the country, she had a small dance studio here in town that offered lessons to kids, teens and adults.

"How long will it be this time?" I asked. I kept the thread of panic out of my voice.

"Just a week. You won't even get a chance to miss me."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. I would miss her and she knew it.

"And now that you have Mr. Tall, dark and handsome to keep you company, you won't even think about me," she added mischievously.

"Just be safe," I reminded her. She bit into her veggie wrap as we sat in companionable silence for a few moments. A woman in black leggings and t-shirt jogged briskly past us. Her ponytail swung from side to side as she faded from our view. It was quiet today, usually there would be a few moms with toddlers in strollers.

"Have you been going to your sessions?" she asked cautiously.

"Sure," I lied smoothly. She eyed me suspiciously, checking carefully for any signs that I was lying. I was fine. My therapist did as much as she could for me after Evan left. We were just wasting each other's time, going over old wounds that would never heal. What was the sense in trying to understand why he left? It was only conjecture. I wouldn't really know unless I heard it from his lips. If Dr. Bradshaw got a crystal ball or picked up card reading as a side gig, I might consider returning, I mused. I checked my watch and sighed.

"Listen, I gotta run."

"Sure," she threw the wrapper in the nearby trashcan and turned to me with a small smile. I struggled not a wince as she enclosed me in a warm hug. I loved my sister, but her constant need to touch and hug baffled me. "I'll call you from Paris," she promised.

"You better," I smiled. I scrutinized her for a minute. My eyes roaming over her familiar features. As usual, she wore a colorful headband that attempted, often times unsuccessfully, to keep her wild curls contained. Her lithe figure was wrapped in skintight jeggings and an afro printed shirt that was expertly tied in the front so that when she moved one could easily catch glimpses of her taut stomach. Her small feet were encased in black ballet flats. The only jewelry she wore was the pandora bracelet I'd given her five years ago. Her honey colored eyes regarded me thoughtfully. I realize I'd been sitting there observing her. She cocked her eyebrow at me questioningly.

"I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you," I stated. I hadn't been thinking that, but I knew the statement was true. She was the only one I could really depend on. Her eyes softened and got watery.

"I'm the lucky one," she whispered. She grabbed both my hands and stared into my eyes.

"Us against the world, right?"

"Us against the world," she agreed.