Love Like Theirs

Her stomach sank. Disappointment settled deeply in her chest. But it was quickly replaced by a new sensation: relief. She’d taken the first step, broken the wall of silence between them, and Cristiano had chosen not to communicate in return. At least now she knew where she stood. She didn’t need to wonder anymore. As difficult as it was to know things were truly over, she was glad at least for some certainty.

She looked back at Maxine’s messages, no longer distracted by thoughts of Cristiano and able to pay them the attention they deserved.

Are you okay, hon? So sorry about Rob! What a jerk. I know you well enough to know you’re probably embarrassed about it, but you’re literally my hero right now.

She smiled to herself, her mortification of having made a spectacle of herself dissipating slightly. She typed a response.

Sorry for being silent. I must’ve fallen asleep as soon as I got home. Of course I’m embarrassed, but at least you’re proud of me.

She sent the message and went to put her phone away, then on second thought sent a text to her mom, Mallory. Yes. And it’s yummy.

She heard the sound of a key in the door then and jumped with surprise. As she turned to look over her shoulder, she saw Bryn enter the apartment, dressed in workout gear, her cheeks pink, hairline sweaty, and face grinning widely. Keira realized then that she was not alone. Felix was in tow. For an older gentleman he certainly looked all right in workout gear. He reminded her a little of the before model from an ad for male hair dye.

“You’re up,” Bryn said to Keira with a smile. “How was the party?”

“Could’ve been better,” Keira murmured in reply. “Where have you two been?”

Bryn went over to the sink to fill up her empty water bottle. It was Felix who answered Keira’s question.

“We just went for a jog,” he said.

Keira had to stop herself from exclaiming, “At your age?” Instead, she managed to censor herself and instead asked, “At this time of the morning?”

“Best time for it,” Felix replied. He raised one of his legs, resting it on a kitchen stool and stretching to touch his toes.

He was fitter than Keira, that much was evident. She’d let everything deteriorate in that department and her waistline was starting to suffer for it. It was all well and good eating and drinking to her heart’s content when she was hiking up Italian mountainsides, but now that her evenings consisted of binge-watching TV and eating pretzels, it wasn’t so great. She poked her stomach. It was definitely squishier than it used to be. She’d have to do something about that soon.

Bryn turned back from the sink and took a long swig from her bottle. “Have you heard from Mom?”

“Just some random text about coconut milk latte,” Keira replied.

Bryn laughed. “She’s losing her mind. She was supposed to let you know about dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” Keira replied.

“Well?” Bryn probed. “What do you say? Swanson ladies dinner date?”

“Isn’t Felix invited?” Keira asked, curiously. Mallory seemed to love Felix; either that or she was just very relieved that Bryn had finally started a stable relationship.

Felix switched to stretching his other leg. He glanced at Keira, his hands outstretched clasping the toe of his sneaker. “I’ve got plans with my own family tonight. It’s my parents’ wedding anniversary.”

Once again, Keira had to bite her tongue to stop from blurting out something rude. But she really was surprised that Felix’s parents were alive and kicking. They must be well into their eighties, the age Keira’s grandparents would have been had either still been alive.

“That’s lovely,” she managed to say.

“What shall I tell Mom?” Bryn asked.

“Tell her okay,” Keira replied.

Maybe some mollycoddling could help kick-start her out of her funk. There really was nothing like Mallory’s maternal cloying to remind Keira how important her independence was.

Bryn and Felix exchanged a nod and then headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Keira asked.

“Second five K,” Bryn replied.

“Ten before breakfast has always been my motto,” Felix added.

They waved and swirled out the door. Keira blinked at it. It was hard to believe that anyone could be that physically active, let alone a sixty-something man. She wondered how long it took someone to train to run 10k and realized it wouldn’t take that long at all. Certainly less than a year. Felix could have started his fitness regime on his sixtieth birthday for all she knew. It was never too late to make a change.

She realized, suddenly, that she needed to stop sitting around feeling sorry for herself. Overcome by a surge of motivation, Keira grasped her work bag and pulled out her notebook. She quickly wrote a list of all the things she needed to change in her life, including losing a couple of extra pounds and getting her roots touched up. She scanned the list and realized there was one very important change she needed to make to get her life back on track, and that was getting herself into her own apartment. The longer she stayed sleeping on Bryn’s couch, the harder it was becoming to ever imagine herself being independent, standing on her own two feet again.

She fetched her laptop and went onto a real estate website. She hadn’t checked apartment prices for at least a couple of years, having been settled with Zach for so long, and the prices made her eyes water. But if she added up her work bonuses and the several grand she’d saved just from not having to pay rent or for any of her food for the last few months, she might just be able to scrape together enough to put down a deposit. On paper she looked like a safe bet, since she had a steady job with a decent income. She started to feel the first glimmer of hope in days.

She scrolled through all the apartments, looking for one to rent within her price range. Most of them looked a little worse for wear, but she liked DIY and didn’t mind having a fixer-upper. She just wanted something that was her own, somewhere she could call home after spending weeks on end in hotel rooms.

At last, an apartment caught her eye. A one-bed, one-bath condo farther west from Manhattan than she usually went. From the photos it looked like it had been a sad divorcé’s downsizer, but Keira could see past the drab, unloved decor. The windows were huge, the ceilings high. Without the graying carpet it would look even more spacious. The building had laundry facilities in the basement, and it was less than a mile from a subway station.

It felt like fate.

Keira grabbed her phone and punched in the agent’s number. After a few rings, a croaky voice answered, an older woman with a decades-developed smoker’s rasp.

“I’m inquiring about the apartment on your website,” she said, explaining which specific one she was interested in.

“Oh yeah, that one’s a beaut,” the woman replied. “Great location. How tall are you?”

Keira was taken aback by the question. “Why?”

“’Cause the last two guys I showed it to were the size of basketball players and wanted more space. Waste of everyone’s time. And time is money, kiddo. So? How tall?”

“Five two,” Keira said.

“Perfect,” the woman rasped. “When d’ya wanna look?”

Keira thought of her job, of the long hours she often had to work at Viatorum. “A weekend would be better.”

“Whatcha doin’ today?” came the woman’s response. “I had a cancellation so could fit you in.”

“Today?” Keira repeated, surprised. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. “Okay, yes. Today is fine!”

They made the necessary arrangements and Keira hung up the call, feeling a little dazed from the speed with which it had all happened. It really did feel like fate.

*

Keira left the subway, finding herself in an unfamiliar but rather pleasant part of New York. It was one of the things about the city she loved so much, how it changed, evolved, and developed so constantly it was always reinventing itself. Not that long ago this area must have been a bit rundown and the public hadn’t yet caught on, because there was no way she’d be able to afford to rent a place here otherwise!

She hurried along the sidewalk, scanning the door numbers as she went, searching for the correct building. As she drew closer to the correct number, she noticed a woman standing ahead in a fuchsia pink two-piece and matching heels, smoking a cigarette. That must be the real estate agent she spoke to on the phone.