Slowly, maddeningly, he leaned towards me, never once pulling his eyes away from mine. When his lips were only a few millimetres away from my mouth, I felt his breath, warm and soft on my skin.
“Am I your exception, Lara?”
It took me a moment to recall our earlier conversation.
“Yes.” Closing my eyes, I breathed him in. A hint of smoke, a smattering of coffee, but more than anything there was Alex. “Yes, you’re my exception.”
The next moment he pressed his lips to mine, pulling me into his arms. His hands pushed into the small of my back. Insistent, firm, fingers grazing my behind. I kissed him back as if I was drowning, a dying girl searching for her final breath.
Yes, he was my exception.
He still is.
* * *
Tina's fiftieth birthday falls on a Saturday, a month into Alex's tour. She phones me early in the morning, gushing about the flowers he's sent her, and I hold my tongue, unwilling to divulge that it was me who arranged their delivery.
He called me on Thursday night from a dingy motel in Oregon, panicking, and even though I tried, I couldn't hide the smugness in my tone when I told him I'd already ordered the flowers and bought a silver bracelet to give her on the day.
“Thanks, babe.” His voice sounded hoarse. It was no surprise after all the gigs they'd been doing. But there was something else, as well. An underlying exhaustion that coated his words. My smugness disappeared then, replaced by concern.
“Are you okay?”
“Shouldn't I be asking you that?”
“I'm fine.” My voice was gentle. “We've got into a bit of a routine. Max slept until four last night.”
“I miss you. Both of you.”
Then come home, I wanted to say. Get on a plane and come back to us.
“We miss you, too. Did I tell you Max is trying to crawl? When we went to the park with David last week, he almost dragged himself across the picnic rug.”
Silence. All I could hear was Alex's regular breaths.
“You went out with David?”
My stomach dropped. “It's not that way. You know it isn't.”
David's one of the few people keeping me sane. Him and Beth. I don't know what I'd do without them.
Alex sighed. “Whatever. I've got to go, the bus leaves in ten minutes and Stu wants to call his girl. Give Max a kiss from me, okay?”
The bitter taste in my mouth seemed to spread throughout my body. Churning up everything. “Yeah. Speak to you soon.”
“Love you, babe.”
“Love you, too.”
Each time he calls it feels more of a reflex response, a tap of the knee, a leg kicking out. The words spill out of my mouth like a well-rehearsed speech. We blink, we breathe, and we love. But when reflex replaces emotion, where does that leave us?
I'm still thinking about it as I push Max's buggy up a grassy hill in King Edward's Park, where Tina has decided to hold her birthday picnic. Although her friends are taking her out on the town tonight, she's decided she wants to spend the day with her family. Especially her baby grandson.
Max, of course, is oblivious to everything. Wearing a cute little pair of short dungarees, his bare legs kick out as he spots birds flying in the sky. He's already learned to point, which apparently is advanced for his age, and his finger follows the contrails of an airplane as it crosses the horizon.
I love the way small things delight him so much. He sees the beauty in everything, helping me see it, too. A car horn is remarkable, a police siren something to laugh about. He's learning so much every day.
And Alex is missing it all.