That Thing Between Eli and Gwen(13)

“DAD!” the girl yelled from the front door.

“Welcome again,” he said before quickly running after his daughter.

I laughed at the sight of the bear hanging helpless under his arm before heading to the elevator. The last thing I’d expected when I got to my floor was to see Eli resting against his door with a bottle of wine in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. He had changed out of his tailor-made suit into dark jeans and a button-down shirt.

I said nothing, wheeling my bike to my door. He didn’t look at me either, making me wonder again how in the hell I had ended up having him as a neighbor.

“I’m sorry,” he said as I put my key in the door.

Turning back, I checked to see if anyone else was in the hall.

“Yes, I’m talking to you.” He pushed himself off the floor and faced me. “I’m sorry for what I said, it was… I was an ass. I’m here to call a truce.” He lifted the wine for me to see, along with the bag.

Looking away, I opened my door. “I’m fine—”

“I know you aren’t.”

I felt myself getting irritated again.

“I know you aren’t fine because I’m not fine. We say that because we really don’t know how we are feeling at any given moment, and that’s just too hard to explain to others.”

I peeked back at him.

He once again lifted the bottle.

“Aren’t you a doctor? Shouldn’t you be working or something instead of drinking in the middle of the day?”

“I should be, but I’ve clocked more hours than our hospital will allow. I was working nonstop for a month when I should have been on my honeymoon,” he answered truthfully.

His eyes…his eyes were like mine: broken. The scary thing about reality is all of our monsters are humans…humans who have the ability to make you drink with people you don’t even know.

Unlocking the door, I held it open for him to enter, placing my bike by the door.

“You still don’t have furniture,” he said, looking at the open space.

He was right, my apartment was bare. My living room had nothing but a television mounted on the wall and my large window overlooking the city, with a pillow next to it where I usually sat. “Less furniture, more room to work,” I replied, taking off my shoes and heading into the kitchen. “But, I do have wine glasses.”

“You don’t have a studio or something?” His eyes gaze still wandered.

I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. “I do, but a lot of my inspiration happens when I’m home. It’s much easier to just grab a canvas here than running to my studio. I save that for bigger, planned projects. Why?” I handed him the glass and bottle opener.

He shrugged. “I’m still figuring out how you make a living off that stuff.”

“That stuff is my life's work…”

“Not trying to be an ass, just asking.” He pulled crackers from the bag and uncorked the wine, then poured a glass for each of us.

So, being an ass is just his default setting. Taking the glass, I walked to the living room and took a seat where the window met the wall.

He followed, walking around Taigi, who lay near the door, foot kicking as he dreamed. Eli sat on the floor in front of me, but neither of us spoke. Then Taigi decided to fart, and the look on Eli’s face got me laughing.

“That’s one way to break the tension,” he muttered, shaking his head at my dog. “I honestly didn’t think past the ‘I’m sorry’ part. Actually, I thought you'd close the door in my face.”

“I was tempted to,” I said, and drank. Oh, shit, this is delicious.

“Good, isn’t it?” He grinned.

Frowning, I shrugged. “It’s okay.”

“Then why are you still licking your lips?”

Damn him. “I should have just closed the door on you.” I drank some more.

He leaned against my window before sipping again. “Why didn’t you?”

“Honestly?”

He nodded.

“I couldn’t after you told me you worked when you were supposed to be on your honeymoon.”

“So, pity again.” He grimaced, finishing off the glass and pouring himself another.

“I’ve never pitied you, how can I? You and I are in the same boat. It’s more like understanding. Just like how you knew I wasn’t fine.”

Again, we were silent for a moment.

“You know,” I said softly, finishing off my glass before speaking again. “I mean neither of us has actually been properly introduced yet. I know nothing about you.”

He filled my glass. “My name is Eli Davenport, I’m 6’1 and a half, 184 pounds, age 31 as of two days ago, born on June 23rd. I’m also a neurosurgeon at New York Presbyterian. I have a younger brother who introduced my fiancée to her lover, and she ran off with him on our wedding day. Nice to meet you.”