Page 9 of Gray Hair Don't Care
She rolled to her stomach, face-down in the pillow, wondering if it was possible to smother oneself. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Simple. Elegant. No blood. Although whenever the paramedics arrived, they would see her butt first and that simply wasn’t a fate she was willing to accept. How would they describe her in their report? Old divorced woman found dead face-down and naked on her bed, with cat lovingly curled up at her side.
Nope.Donovan might have done exactly what she’d feared, but she wasn’t going to let it defeat her. And least not right away. Lela forced herself to roll out of bed, then grabbed her robe. Not wanting to be the most hopelessly pessimistic person in the world, she tried his name one more time in the hallway. “Donovan?” She didn’t wait long for an answer. She was optimistic; not stupid. She started off for the kitchen, Rio threatening to trip her by snaking between her ankles, meowing his little furry head off.
Sure enough, the kitchen was empty. “Donovan, you are such an asshole,” she said out loud, if only for her own satisfaction.
Rio, having zero regard for Lela’s personal problems, nudged his food bowl with his nose then voiced another plaintive meow. Lela put coffee on, then poured a scoop of kibble. She watched him eat, realizing what an enviably simple life he had. Seriously. The biggest stressor of his existence was the fact that he relied on a human to feed him. Otherwise, he napped in sunbeams, rolled around on the carpet with toys, crouched around corners and attacked unwitting victims who ultimately showered him with affection.
Coffee ready, Lela poured herself a mug. What would this scene have been like if Donovan had actually stuck around? Probably awkward as hell. She knew what he was like, only really willing to dig in when things were fun. He didn’t handle serious very well, and what had seemed so carefree at midnight was definitely going to be far less so in the light of day. What in the world had she been thinking? It was too easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of Donovan, enticed by his charm and good looks, by his brains and the easy way they fell in together. Stupid. The whole thing had been incredibly stupid.
Lela wandered into the living room and spotted the note. She ran her fingers over the scrawl of ink, wondering what had been going through his head when he’d written it. She wished she understood his unwillingness to stick around for her. There had to be something more to it than the simplest conclusion—that something about her drove him away. Maybe it was the same thing Mark hadn’t liked about her. Or, perhaps some men were fickle creatures who deserved to fuck off. She remained undecided.
She took her coffee cup to the kitchen sink then went back upstairs to shower in her bathroom. Her phone rang with a video call from Tammera. Lela laughed quietly before accepting the call. Tams had a sixth sense about Lela’s life crises. She’d literally called Lela to check in with her less than five minutes after Mark asked for a divorce.
“Hey, Tams.” Lela nestled the phone in the old-school toothbrush holder hanging on the wall next to the equally antiquated medicine chest, with the mirror’s silver peeling at the corners.
“Something is wrong. I just know it.” Tammera was sitting on her couch, her dark natural curls gathered on top of her head. She had the most enviable complexion—a warm brown, glowing and made for television.
“How do you know these things?” Lela scrutinized her face in the mirror. She’d earned every line, especially that crease between her eyes, but they didn’t feel like a badge of honor today. The same for every gray hair—had they been multiplying while she slept? There were twice as many as yesterday. It felt too much like the fickle finger of fate reminding her that she didn’t have her whole life ahead of her. She had half. Probably less.
“Well, let’s see. You didn’t return my phone call yesterday and now you’re in your bathroom staring at your wrinkles. It’s pretty obvious to me that things aren’t all right in your world.”
Lela blew out a breath picked up her phone and sat down on the closed toilet lid, resting an elbow on the vanity. “I slept with my college crush last night and he left before I woke up.”
Tammera wasn’t fazed by much, but this prompted a hand clamped over her mouth. “No fucking way.”
“Yep fucking yep.”
“Is this what happens when you get divorced? You make poor decisions about sex?”
Lela shrugged. “Maybe? Probably? I don’t know, Tams. This is my first time at this rodeo.”
“Was it good?”
Lela couldn’t contain the traitorous smile that cropped up on her face. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and pride. Last night had been fantastic. So, no, it wasn’t a total loss, even if her ego was dinged. “Way better than the other time we slept together. Twenty-five years did wonders for his skills.”
“Then why did he take off? Did something happen?”
Lela was about to answer that everything went great, but as the details rifled through her mind in fast fashion, something popped into her memory. It was like a brand new pimple dead center on your forehead when you were about to walk out the door for a date. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
Lela squinted, wincing at her own stupidity. “I told him that I was in love with him in college.”
“Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know. I was delirious from the most epic orgasm of my life?”
Tammera shook her head like a damn metronome, then took a patient sip of her coffee. The whole sequence was silent, but felt super judgmental. “Oh, that’s bad.”
“You’re my best friend. You’re supposed to say something supportive.”
“Like what? That he probably didn’t hear what you said? He snuck out in the middle of the night. It’s pretty clear you freaked him out.”
Lela was so pissed at herself she could hardly stand it. Here she’d been thinking this was all on Donovan, when the reality was she’d contributed to this nightmarish outcome. Why had she felt the need to make such a confession? That was the past. Ancient history. Not worth repeating. “Ugh. You’re right. You’re so right.”
“Think of it this way. It’s probably better that he left. The belated I love you doesn’t make great breakfast conversation.”
“No. It doesn’t.” Lela sighed. “I need to get my act together.”
