Chapter 23
Elliot
"So, what do you like to do on weekends?"
Lena plucks off a piece of my cotton candy before retreating to her side of the bench.
This bench in a corner of Wondervale has become our weekly meeting spot. Even though my intentions weren't altruistic when I joined the mentorship program, I've come to appreciate this one-hour break in my busy schedule. Lena is good company. Since we've known each other, I've found the best of Mira's traits in her. Because she does most of the talking, I have the opportunity to relax and simply listen. Thanks to her, I can spend an hour not thinking about the park or employees' demands.
"On weekends, I don't do much besides work."
"Oh no..." she says, looking disgusted.
"What about you? How do you spend your weekends?"
"I spend time with J-P," she replies, beaming. "I watch movies. I go shopping at the mall."
"Sounds fun..." I reply flatly.
"You don't like shopping?"
"No. The thought of going to the mall makes me break out in hives."
"Mira hates the mall too," she declares, grinning from ear to ear.
"Does she?"
I hold back a smile. Lena always finds a way to mention her sister. At first, I simply thought Lena admired her deeply, which is true, but after a few meetings her real intentions became clear: she's trying to push us into each other's arms. Although she attempts to be subtle, it's impossible to miss the way her eyes sparkle whenever I ask a question or two about Mira. While I let her carry out her little mission, she satisfies my curiosity.
"Actually, you and Mira have a lot in common."
Unlikely. Her sister is my opposite. I can't compare myself to a woman capable of lighting up a room with nothing but her smile. She's like the sun: everyone orbits her for warmth. Unlike me, who keeps others at a distance with a mere frown.
"You always find a way to talk about her."
"That's because you like each other," Lena replies, tucking a brown curl behind her ear.
"And how do you know that?"
"She looks at you like she wants to have your babies."
At that statement, I choke. I pound my chest with my fist while taking a deep breath.
"No, I really don't think she looks at me that way."
"You're right," Lena replies casually. "I just wanted to see your reaction."
Unbelievable...
"You're cruel."
In retaliation, I steal a piece of her pretzel.
"But my sister smiles at you a lot," she says innocently.
"She smiles at everyone," I grumble.
"How do you know?"
Damn it. Lena's questions sound innocent, but they reveal how closely I pay attention to Mira. The smile that appears on her face tells me she's noticed too.
"It's hard not to."
"So cute!" she squeals. "I knew it!"
"Knew what?"
"That you liked my sister!"
"I never said that."
"No, but you smiled."
Shit. I didn't even notice. Get a grip, Elliot.
"People smile. It happens."
Lena laughs and shakes her head.
"You don't smile," she replies with a giggle.
"We're going to pretend this conversation never happened, all right?"
"Of course, Elliot. We'll do that."
She steals another piece of cotton candy. Compensation for keeping my secret, no doubt.
Still, judging by her smile, something tells me I'm far from safe.
After turning off the light in my office, I take out my phone.
Me: Hey. I finished your illustration. I'll send it tomorrow.
The message isn't strictly necessary, but it feels strange to let an entire day pass without talking to Mira. Between my busy schedule and the lack of communication from her, I've grown increasingly anxious as the hours have passed. It's a warning: I'm becoming dependent. Even so, I can't stop.
My phone vibrates in my hand. Mira has sent me a photo of the wall beside her desk, where a hundred sticky notes are displayed.
Me: You're still working? It's ten at night.
Mira: Yes, Grandpa. I had a cool idea I wanted to finish before going home.
Me: What could possibly be better than sleep?
Mira: Dinner.
Me: You haven't eaten anything?
Mira: No. I ran out of snacks hours ago.
Me: You have my sympathy.
Me: Your work ethic reminds me of Elliot.
Referring to myself like this is really shitty, but I want her unfiltered opinion of me.
Mira: I wish!
Mira: I think that guy runs on solar power. There's no way he's human.
That last quip makes me laugh. It would be convenient,and far more time-efficient than sleep.
Me: I'd say it's plausible. It would explain his need to take a walk during his lunch break.
Mira: How do you know that?
Shit. Yes, Grant, how do you know that?
Me: Everyone knows to avoid the rear parking lot at noon.
Mira sends a few laughing emojis, then another text:
Mira: Oh. I didn't know!
Me: That's because you live hidden away in a warehouse. Go home.
Mira: Yeah, yeah. Maybe in an hour.
As pleased as I am that Creators like Mira take their work seriously, I dislike knowing she's up so late on an empty stomach.
The walkway leading to the tunnel entrance isn't far from my office. As I cross the tunnel that takes me home, I slow down near the entrance to the Creators' warehouse.
You could stop by and make Mira go home so she can come back tomorrow morning after a good night's sleep and a full meal.
Without another second's thought, I climb the stairs and enter the building. By now, I'm used to making my way to her workspace. I stop at the entrance to watch her for a moment. This is the sort of entertainment I enjoy: before my eyes, she takes a sticky note and folds it into a perfect square while nibbling her lower lip. Suddenly, she turns and tries to toss it into a jar. Her throw falls short, and the piece of paper drops to the floor.
"Nice try."
Mira jumps.
"You scared me!" she exclaims, looking me up and down. "What are you doing here?"
I'm at a loss for words. What am I doing here?
"I just wanted to see if anyone was still working."
It's the truth.
"Why?"
"I'd like your opinion on something."
For God's sake, Elliot! Go home while you still have the chance!
"Okay," she replies, leaning against her desk with a small smile.
What on earth could I ask her?
"Elliot, what is it?"
"I'm not sure our oldest ride is worth keeping."
"Oh no! Don't get rid of it! I love the,"
Her growling stomach cuts her off, and her complexion turns bright red.
"You skipped dinner."
"Um... how do you know?" she asks, flushing even more deeply.
Yes, Elliot. How do you know? Fuck. I keep screwing up tonight. Who knew having two identities would be so difficult?
"You're still at work."
"True. I'm almost finished, I just need to,"
Her stomach protests even more loudly, and it annoys me.
"Do you like Chinese food?" I ask, taking my phone out of my pocket.
"Um... I do," she says, baffled.
I call a local restaurant I saved in my contacts after several late nights at work.
Because I don't know what she prefers, I order one of everything. It's probably excessive, but I want her to eat a dish she genuinely likes.
I hang up and find Mira staring at me with her mouth open.
"What?"
"I wasn't expecting you to order me a meal."
"I'm hungry. You can have the leftovers," I reply, as though that settles the matter.
"But... it sounds like you ordered the whole restaurant."
I remain silent. She frowns, then wipes an expression I can't define from her face.
"Fine, okay. So why are you thinking of getting rid of the oldest ride?"
Mira sits on the floor, where she has spread out sticky notes, sheets of paper, markers, and other supplies.
Oh, right. I asked what she thought about it...
Following her example, I lean against the wall.
When I take off my suit jacket and toss it beside my legs, Mira giggles.
"What's so funny?"
She points at me as if that is answer enough before adding:
"You're sitting on the floor."
"So?"
"It's weird," she declares, crossing her legs.
I choose not to dwell on what she just said.
"It's an old attraction. I'm not sure it's worth keeping."
"Are you kidding? You're actually undecided?"
I nod, aware that a conversation with her about this could easily last an hour. And that's exactly what happens. While we wait for our delivery, Mira passes the time explaining the history of my grandfather's first ride as though I don't already know it. She goes into detail and lists every reason we shouldn't touch it. Her enthusiasm and passion are so contagious that I find myself smiling more than usual.
When the delivery driver arrives, I'm disappointed that she's interrupted.
"Did you really need to order the entire menu?"
I shrug.
"I wasn't sure what you liked."
"Then why didn't you ask me?" she asks, looking put out.
She takes two cartons and presses them to her chest with a contented sigh. I pull a container of fried rice from the bag, remaining silent. Mira hands me a plastic fork, and we each dig into our dish.
At the first bite, she lets out a soft moan. The sound goes straight to my groin, and blood immediately rushes where it shouldn't. I take a deep breath to calm myself.
"Why did you stay at the office so late?"
"I was working on a new idea," Mira replies, pointing at the jar filled with little notes.
"And?"
"I lost track of time."
"Does that happen often?"
"I don't have much else to do."
"What do you like to do in your free time?"
The question feels natural, as though I care about activities that exist outside work. Maybe Lena is rubbing off on me with all her personal questions...
"I like to read," Mira replies with a smile.
"For fun?"
She bursts out laughing. My entire chest warms at the thought of making her laugh like that, and a small kernel of pride grows inside me.
"Yes. Some people read for reasons other than work. What do you like to do when you're not at the office?"
Text you.
"I run."
"Of course you do," she says, rolling her eyes.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"What's that supposed to mean, 'of course'?"
She clears her throat as though that might hide the pink coloring her cheeks.
"You have the body of a man who runs. That's all," she blurts, avoiding my gaze.
Hmm... it sounds like she's studied me rather closely.
"Not that I check you out or anything," she stammers.
Her face flushes even more deeply.
I sit up straighter, delighted by the direction the conversation is taking.
"No, of course not."
"You have to be a masochist to run for fun."
"It clears my head."
"I'll take your word for it."
I laugh, and Mira smiles at me.
"We don't hear you laugh very often. It's a shame."
I don't have many reasons to laugh.
"Don't get used to it," I say, tugging at my too-tight tie.
"I wouldn't dare. I rather like that they're rare. It makes them even more precious."
Her smile is contagious, and I feel the corners of my mouth lift in response.
No one has ever called anything about me precious. Her comment makes me feel... good. Appreciated. Valued in a way that has nothing to do with my income or my job.
I wish I could see myself through her eyes. In her gaze, I don't feel like a man carrying an entire mountain of expectations on his shoulders. I'm simply Elliot, the kind of guy who sits on the floor in his suit pants to eat takeout straight from the carton and enjoys every second of the experience.
I'm suddenly struck by the realization that I want more moments like this with her. I need to find a way to make that happen without drawing her attention to the fact that I'm two different men in her life.
If only I knew how...