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"What do you want and why are you on my porch?" he demanded. She didn't seem intimidated, just--defeated, somehow.
"You've known me for nearly six months! Don't you recognize me, Nicky?"
There was something faintly familiar about her. "For the record, my name is Joshua, not Nicky. Where did you hear that from, anyway?"
"You told me." She shivered a bit causing drops of rain to fall from her jacket. "Uhm, could I come in?"
Maybe she wasn't homeless after all. He'd seen the same picture in dozens of airline waiting rooms. She wasn't a tourist, he was certain of that. He really didn't have time for this; Missy was coming over. And while he wasn't particularly looking forward to it he didn't want to explain the prescence of some homeless mystery woman either.
I'm cursed! he thought. That's what it is. Why do I always seem to attract these flakes? he wondered. He wasn't exactly out looking for them. He was still trying to live down the fiasco of the personal ad his sisters had placed for him. They meant well, they really had but he could have done without their help. Apparently, he wasn't much of a catch. Only four people had responded: three women and one man. Missy was the least objectionable of the four. She still seemed to think they had something going. That's why she was coming over, so he could make it clear, in no uncertain terms that there was not now and never had been anything between them. Maybe he could use this woman's visit to his advantage. He checked his watch and looked back at her.
"Got a hot date with Missy tonight?" the woman asked.
He was stunned! "All right, who the hell are you?" he demanded as he unlocked the door to his townhouse and guided her in. She looked around as if she was familiar with the place.
"Where should I put this?" she asked, removing her jacket. "It's more damp than dripping wet but I'd hate to damage this varnish. I know how hard you've worked to restore it." she indicated the antique that was the showpiece of his foyer.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and swung her around to face him. Her long brown hair was hanging in damp curls. She had green, almost blue, eyes. There was something familiar about her. "You know me best as 'Starla'," she informed him.
His eyes grew wide, "My God! Larynn, is that you?" She nodded. "Larynn Kepler! I can't believe it. How did you find me?"
She looked at him as if to say 'how do you think I found you'? "What are you doing here?" he continued.
"I left him Josh, I just couldn't take it anymore!" she sobbed. Stunned, he opened his arms and she walked into them as if she belonged there.
After absorbing several of her tears he held her away at arms length.
She wasn't anything like he'd imagined. She'd lost weight, if what she'd
told him before was true. It had been nearly two months since he'd gotten
a personal email from her and they hadn't chatted in ages.
"What happened?" He asked concerned for his online friend, whom he
had never met! They had gotten quite close...
"After Kitty left for college he got worse."
"Did he--did he hit you?" Josh asked, looking for signs of a bruise or something.
"Of course not. He wouldn't do that!" She seemed surprised that it would even occur to Josh. That, she thought, I could have at least defended myself against. "No, he hasn't left a mark on me." That you can see.
Josh led her into his kitchen, pulled out a chair for her and invited her to sit at the long butcher block table he had recently refinished. She rubbed her hand against the smooth, lightly oiled finish.
"This is great, Josh! You do good work."
"Yeah, I've had to put my frustrations into the wood. It's amazing how
much se--nervous energy you can work off with sandpaper and a saw."
He
checked the clock on the microwave then looked at his watch.
"What time do you expect Missy?"
"I don't know. It depends on what time her rehearsal gets over. Nine
at the earliest."
"It's just past seven now, got any other plans?"
"Besides frozen dinner and TV, no. I stayed late and got everyhting done at work so I could sleep in tomorrow, in case it takes all night to dump her."
"That's not very nice, 'Nicky.'
"Oh, please, 'Starla' don't get me started...hey! I didn't even think to ask, have you eaten? Could I get you some coffee or something?" He walked over and began examining the contents of his fridge.
"Got any grapefruit juice?"
"Nope, sorry," he said. "Everything I've got here is caffeinated." He knew from one of their chats that she had to drink grapefruit juice when her electrolytes were getting low. He sniffed a carton of milk he'd have to replace soon.
"Hey, what's this?" He held up a small bottle of apple juice. She nodded and he brought it over to her. "Would you like a glass of ice with that?"
"Sure." He fetched the items and handed them to her. "Thanks."
"Can I get you anything else?"
"I'm fine, thanks," she replies absently.
"Are you sure? I could fix you a sandwich or a salad. It's no trouble."
"I said, I was fine." He was taken aback by her brusque tone. Then he remembered she always got cranky when she was really tired or feeling low. Of course she was tired! She'd just ran away from home. To him. They'd joked about it online but he'd never expected this. He was already a little bit in love with her but she was married and lived in another state. Chances were they'd never meet in real life yet here she was, in his kitchen, drinking Missy's stale AJ.
