“Marbles. Wait, no, uh, Yeezel. No, no, hold on. It has to be Jeremy. Is it Jeremy? It’s Jeremy, isn’t it? It’s got to be Jeremy.”
Keller leans back in his new chair, a replacement for the one broken in yesterday’s fiasco, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “If you stopped fucking speaking for one goddamn second, I’d be able to tell you the cat’s name was Whiskers.”
“Whiskers?” I say in an outburst. “Where’s the originality in that?”
“And you think Jeremy is original?”
“Uh . . . yeah,” I say, flitting my hand at him. “Everyone knows naming an animal a regular person name holds more humor in it than something like Whiskers.”
“Can we get back on topic?”
“We’re still on topic. You were talking about the cat who had babies in the ballroom during a state dinner. Frankly, it’s the most interesting story you’ve told since we started this lecture-fest five days ago.”
He releases a heavy sigh. “I need a break.” He stands from his chair and walks over to the open window. He places his hands on the windowsill, which bunches his shirt around his shoulder blades. There’s no mistaking the tension resting in those muscles.
He’s been short and clipped the entire day.
“You seem irritated with me,” I say.
“What on earth would give you that idea?” he huffs.
“Well, the sarcasm in your voice, for one, and your lack of patience, for another. But there’s something you need to know, Keller. I’m irritated with you as well.”
He turns around and leans against the sill now, arms crossed. “What could I have possibly done to irritate you?”
Well, he keeps showing up with clothes on. These lectures would be far more riveting if he was naked.
“You find it necessary to tell me every little thing about the history of Torskethorpe. I’ll tell you right now, I’ll probably remember one percent of it. Stop regaling me with the distinct color of the drapes in some old warden’s bedroom. What are you? A Stephen King novel?”
“You need to know everything.”
“Oh my God!” I rise from my chair. “Do you really think some Torskethorpian is going to come up to me on the streets, tap me on the shoulder, and say, ‘Lilly, do you happen to recall the name of Regina’s cat who had babies in the state room?’”
“REGANA!” he shouts. “Her fucking name is REGANA!”
“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!” I shout back before placing my hands under the console table and flipping it right over before storming out of the room.
“I’d like to say things got a little heated yesterday, and even though I was very frustrated, I want you to know, it wasn’t your fault. I was out of line.” I rub my hand along the console table. “I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”
Keller is standing to the right of me, arms folded, a sneer on his brow. “Are you done apologizing to the goddamn table?”
I hold my finger up to him and lean my ear toward the wood. When I feel like I’ve been forgiven, I give a slow nod and say, “The table has chosen to give me another chance.”
“Then let’s get started.” He flops a journal on the table—my new friend—and points at it. “This is for you.”
“A present? Aw, you shouldn’t have.”
“It’s a journal so you can start writing down your thoughts.”
“Ah, right, for history.” I pick up my pen and flip the journal open to the first page. “‘Dear Jerry—’”
“Jerry?”
“Is that not a good name for my journal? I think it has a nice ring to it—Jerry Journal.”
“Your journal doesn’t need a name. You’re not writing to it. You’re just writing your thoughts down.”
“Oh, okay.” I let out a large sigh and tap my pen to my chin before I start writing again. “Today Keller did fifty-two pushups. Ten of them weren’t proper form—”
He tears the journal from my grasp, causing me to laugh.
“Lilly, this is serious.”
“I know,” I groan. “But, Keller, this is slowly killing me. It’s been a week of these mindless lectures in this small stone room. I can’t sit here anymore. It’s boring. It’s monotonous. It’s slowly taking away my will to live. And, sure, you’re nice to look at, and the whole chair kicking and table flipping brought some life to our days, but I can only look at you for so long before I start to lose my mind. And I can’t possibly hurt my friend the table again.” I whisper while stroking the tabletop, “I made a sacred promise to always protect it moving forward.”