Page 110 of One Week
“IT WAS ABOUT A WEEK AGO,” he starts. “Just a plain old regular Monday. Floyd and I were both down in the dumps, and we were walking in the neighborhood. Then, he stops dead in his tracks and he’s looking at a store window…”
I’m completely riveted. “Go on…”
“I look over to see what he’s looking at,” he says, “and it’s a huge painting of an elephant, colorful and slightly abstract, like the one I made you, but it’s oil on canvas.”
“Cool,” I say. “Maybe it just reminded him of the painting you made me.” I don’t want to burst Eli’s bubble but that’s hardly a big ‘sign’.
“He gave me the saddest eyes I’d ever seen, and I told him I was missing you too,” he goes on. “Then we kept walking, and out of nowhere, he gets excited, and next thing you know he’s toppling over this poor little old lady.”
I bring my hand to my mouth. “Oh no… he sounds like me.”
He laughs. “Yeah, anyway, I help her up and I apologize about a million times. Thankfully, this woman loves dogs and she thinks Floyd is the cutest thing ever.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “What does that have to do with me?”
“She was wearing aDoorst-shirt, the very same one you bought in Christiania.”
“No way!!!”
“Yes way, anyway, I was a little shaken after that.”
I smile. “Well, I don’t mean to be a cynic, but it just sounds like Floyd misses me.”
He shakes his head. “You know how they say good things happen in threes?”
“Or is it bad things?”
“Anyway, I was still shaken when we walked by a small bookstore,” he continues. “There was a table stacked with books outside, and right there was an old copy of Hans Christian Andersen’sThe Little Mermaid.
“And that was your third sign?”
“There’s more to it,” he tells me and bounds out of bed. He quickly slips on his boxers, and I get a quick glimpse of his gorgeous ass. “Wait here,” he says. He’s a blur as he dashes out of my room.
I wait anxiously, buried in the sheets of my bed, and I wonder what he’s up to. He’s always so full of surprises.
He finally gets back, and he’s holding a book. “I bought it,” he says, “for you.”
I smile. “Wow, another gift.”
He hands me the book, and I’m spellbound — it’s beautiful, very old with a classic burgundy cover and gold lettering. I open it and flip through the worn yellow pages. It’s ancient but still in good condition.
“Look at the inscription at the front,” Eli urges.
I flip to the front, and there it is, in a shaky uneven cursive, as if it was written by someone very old.
For you, my dear beautiful Gabriella. May the world take you on a million adventures.
I’m absolutely flabbergasted. “Wow.”
“The inscription was there when I first opened it,” Eli tells me. “And I just knew… it was a sign, and I had to get to you.”
I hug the book against my chest. “Thanks so much, Eli. Thank you for this.”
He inches closer and kisses the tip of my nose. “I had the strangest feeling going back home that you’d left me a message, so I ran, and fired up my laptop, checked my spam folder, which is where messages from blocked recipients go.”
“Really?! I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, they stay in there for about thirty days,” he tells me.
