A BLEAK November chill descended the day before Thanksgiving. It was accompanied by unrelenting gray skies above and a layer of frost below. Georgia wandered around her living room, marveling at her new furniture which had been delivered yesterday. A cushiony beige couch, two brown easy chairs, and a real, honest-to-God bronze coffee table. The earth tones gave off a tranquil feeling, and with her desk and shelves, the room looked full.
She was thinking about doing some last-minute errands when the intercom buzzed from downstairs. Thinking Pete must have forgotten something, she pressed the button.
"What did you forget?"
There was no answer.
"Pete?"
"It's Matt."
She froze for a moment, then pressed the buzzer to let him in. She thought about hurrying into the bathroom to run a comb through her hair, slapping on some blusher. She stayed where she was. She cracked the door and went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water. While she was drinking it down, her front door squeaked. She went back into the living room.
Matt stood there, unwrapping a plaid muffler. "Hello."
"Hello, Matt."
He peered around. "The place looks great."
"A fire's a great excuse to get new stuff."
"May I take off my jacket?"
She folded her arms. She could smell the outdoors on him, a chilly, damp, pungent scent.
He kept his jacket on. "We did great work the other day. It was—a seamless operation."
She studied his expression. "Your superiors are happy, I'm sure."
"They are. And thank you for not pressing charges against me."
"You did what you had to." He'd said the same thing to her the other day. "I'm okay. And," she waved her hand, "I got new furniture out of the deal."
He nodded gratefully. "I have enough to work out between me and Hashem."
"Your God can't be that capricious. And if He is, why believe in Him?"
The glimmer of a smile crossed his face. "You get right to the point, don't you?"
She kept her mouth shut.
"Well, then, I guess I will, too. We make a good team, Georgia."
A wave of uneasiness washed over her.
"Will you give me a second chance?"
She blinked, trying to will away her disquiet, but it stayed in her gut, hard and heavy.
"I made a mistake," he went on. "I left a piece of me behind when I went away. It stayed with you. I want to be whole again. Let me make it up to you. You can't say you haven't thought about it. Especially the past few days."
"That's true. I have."
"And?"
She bit her lip. "The thing is..." she paused. "I don't need you any more."
"You never did."
Easy for him to say.
"The question is do you want me?" He went still.
She weighed what to say, surprised herself with her response. "Matt, I hope you find what you're looking for."
He let out a long breath. "There's someone else, isn't there?"
"Not really. Just me." As she said it, she realized it was the truth.
He hung his head. Then she heard a tap on the steps, followed by a thump. Then another tap, another thump. A knock on her door.
When she opened it, Pete was there, leaning on his cane and grinning. His smile faded when he saw Matt. "Oh sorry..." He looked at Georgia. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"It's okay."
"I just came down to say I've been working on my sister's stuffing recipe and I think I've got it pretty good. I wanted you to try it."
"I'd like that. I'll be up in a minute."
He glanced uncertainly at Matt, then at her. "OK."
She watched him ascend the steps, one at a time. She closed the door.
Matt looked at her. "There's no chance, is there?"
"Matt, what would you do in my place?"
He didn't answer for a long time. Then, "I'd tell me to go to hell."
She smiled then, and reached her hand up to his cheek. She traced the line of his jaw with her finger. "I would never say that. You taught me so much."
"But..." His chest heaved.
"But..." She shook her head. "Not now. Maybe not ever."
He swallowed and turned away quickly. He opened the door and started down the stairs. She closed the door and leaned against it. She heard his foot clomp on the steps, heard the vestibule door squeak when he went through.
She leaned against the door for a long while, then wiped her hands on her jeans. Pete, Sam, and Sam's new boyfriend would be coming tomorrow. The new furniture looked good, but something was missing.
Plants. Living things. It was time to buy a ficus. Maybe a fern. She checked the clock in the kitchen. If she went now, she could get them today. She grabbed her coat and her bag.