“Emmett?” Tallie said. He could hear her moving around in the house.
“The streetlamps are on,” he said a little louder. He couldn’t get warm.
Tallie snatched the door open, saying his name again.
“The streetlamps are on,” he said to her, still leaning over the side of the porch. “And…and you called me Joel.”
“I’m sorry. I meant Emmett. You’re wet. Come out of the rain?”
TALLIE
“Have the streetlamps ever stayed on before when your lights have gone out?” he asked her, still leaning into the rain. “I needed some air.”
Tallie had visions of him darting into traffic, harming himself, being gobbled up by the night. There’d be no way to find him, no way to tell anyone who he was. She’d blame herself forever for losing him.
Coping mechanisms: cigarettes, fresh air.
She often asked her clients how much fresh air they got, especially when they felt panicky or claustrophobic. Opening a window or stepping outside for a few minutes could change a client’s mood, as well as her own, when exposed nerves scintillated.
She felt as if she’d escaped her own darkest period of divorce-depression, but there were cracks that let the shadows creep in. Like if she spent too long looking at photos of Joel’s new life, new wife, new baby. Or if she heard a song that reminded her of Joel or one of their dates or their wedding or any of the weddings they went to together. Any Celine Dion. Any Luther Vandross. Any Faith Hill. Any drippy duets. They were together for practically thirteen years. Thirteen years of a life so easily triggered it might as well have been a loaded gun. She understood the anxiety of mental land mines, and that understanding helped her connect to her clients.
Tallie had trained herself to get out under the open sky as often as she could when she was feeling restless or downright miserable, and it always helped. She’d allowed herself a few weeks of skipping her normal runs after her divorce, but she found that the days she felt like staying in bed the most were also the days she benefited the most from getting out and moving her body for perspective. It wasn’t a cure-all, because nothing was, but it helped. And she never brought up getting out for fresh air to her overwhelmed agoraphobic clients until they were ready. She was glad to see that Emmett took himself outside when he felt the walls closing in.
“I’ll give you some space. But when you feel ready, come back inside.” She left the door open a smidge for him. Her notifications lit up with flash flood warnings for the other side of town. She played solitaire on her phone in the dark until Emmett stepped inside after exactly eight minutes. Tallie had been eyeing the time. “I thought you’d left,” she said, putting her phone down and standing. She was more upset than she expected. “And yes, sometimes. Sometimes the streetlamps stay on.”
“I’ve thought about leaving. I really don’t want to burden you. But I wouldn’t go without saying goodbye,” he said.
“You’re not burdening me. I’ve asked you to stay. Do you promise you won’t up and disappear?”
“Promise. I promise,” he said into the candle-dark. She’d lit the ones they bought together at the outlet mall. One was pumpkin, the other, sugary cinnamon.
“I was scared,” she admitted. Relieved. She’d enjoyed his company so much; she felt exposed by how hurt she’d be if he left without warning. Like her heart would turn to gray ash and blow away.
“I was, too, in my head. The fresh air helps. I’m going to step outside again and smoke.” He moved through the darkness toward the wall plug, retrieved his phone. Went inside his backpack for his cigarettes.
“Smoke for fresh air?”
“Exactly,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” she said, sitting on the couch, narrowly missing planting her butt on top of Jim. “You don’t need the Wi-Fi password? For later? When power’s restored? Are you calling someone?”
“No, but thanks. And I’m not calling anyone.”
“I’m being nosy.”
“It’s your house. You have a right to ask,” he said. “I was going to listen to the World Series outside. Join me. I may stand under the open sky.”
He shrugged his jacket on, zipped it, put his hand in the outside pocket. Paper crush. One of the letters. He kept the look on his face plain, took his hand out. Tallie had a duckish-yellow rain slicker in the closet by the front door, a pair of tall black wellies. Once she put them on, she felt like Paddington Bear.