One Small Chance: a novella (a Love Story from Portugal) (13 page)

“That’s odd. Did you try calling him?” Cristina stacked her knife and fork on the side of the plate.

Isabel wiped the corner of her mouth, buying some time before her answer. In truth, she’d been worried about him. It was out of character for Simon to be late and so cryptic about it. How appropriate was it for her to interfere? “I’ll have the secretary ring him again.”

Cristina raised her eyebrows. “The secretary? Why didn’t you call him directly? You have his number, right?”

“Yes, I do.” Isabel hesitated. She reached for a bread roll and broke off a piece. “It’s complicated.”

Cristina rested her elbows on the table and leaned in Isabel’s direction. “Complicated? Did something happen between the two of you?”

Isabel took a forkful of peas and rice, and kept her eyes down. Had something happened? She was not sure what had passed between Simon and her. Was an almost-kiss worthy of being classified as eventful? Too much to think about. Isabel had tried not to analyze it.

Cristina pushed Isabel’s plate out of reach. “Keeping your mouth full is not going to work. Spill it.” She paused and smiled. “Well, swallow first and then tell me.”

“There’s not much to tell.” Isabel set the fork down again. “We spent some time together. As friends,” she hurried to add. “Nothing more.” Friends held hands, right?

“How much time and when? What did you do?”

Isabel held a hand up. “Calm down. Nothing exciting. On Friday I invited him over to cook dinner at the apartment. Don’t look at me that way. He was going to eat frozen dinners.”

Cristina shrugged. “Nothing wrong with frozen dinners. Lots of people buy them.” The corner of her mouth quirked in a little smile. “But you wanted to save Simon from that kind of fate and had him over to cook dinner for him.”

“He did the cooking and I supervised.” She emphasized the word. “He bought the ingredients and he cooked them.” He’d been a fast learner and Isabel had truly enjoyed teaching him some basic cooking. That’s what friends did for each other.

“What else? That was on Friday. What happened on Saturday?”

“He asked me to go with him to the singles’ activity.” That was something Isabel would rather not remember. She was not into weird games.

Cristina made a puzzled expression. “Singles?”

“That’s something the church does for the unmarried people aged eighteen to thirty.”

“To pair them off.” Cristina nodded. “That’s actually kind of smart. What did you do there?”

“Nothing. We left. They were playing some stupid game and I didn’t want to stay.” Isabel would not be going to another singles activity.

Cristina touched her arm and her expression brightened. “That’s even better. To spend more time with Simon.”

They had indeed spent more time together, but that only confused things between them a lot more. She shrugged. “Yes, we did spend the rest of Saturday together. I took him sightseeing downtown and we ended up by the Praça do Comércio. We dined at this little restaurant on a side street, and then he took me home.” The whole day had been perfect: the weather, the places, and especially the company. Until that moment at her apartment door.

Cristina’s eyes brightened and she smiled wide. “Oooh, he kissed you at the door, didn’t he?”

Isabel pulled Cristina’s hand closer and shushed her. “Keep your voice down. Nothing happened.”

Cristina scooted her chair closer to Isabel. “What do you mean nothing happened? You at least kissed, right? Tell me Simon Ackerley kissed you and it was the best kiss of your life.”

“I don’t know because we didn’t kiss.” Isabel paused over the memories of that moment by the apartment door. There had been no kissing, which was for the better, right?

“Oh,” Cristina said, and her shoulders dropped. “I wanted to know if my theory is right.”

“What theory?”

Cristina rested an elbow on the table and dropped her chin onto her hand. “Well, I went on that Mormon website and read about that chastity thing and the whole business of being faithful and monogamous.”

Isabel turned to Cristina. “Wait. You’re reading about the Mormons?”

Cristina waved her comment. “Yes, I was curious. But let me tell you about my theory. Since the Mormon boys don’t spend the night with their girlfriends, and you know,” she winked at Isabel.

Isabel dropped her eyes and shook her head. “Cristina, really.”

“Well, it’s true, right?” Cristina didn’t wait for the confirmation. “So I’m thinking these Mormon boys must be great kissers.” She smiled, as if proud of her logic. “Right?” she repeated. “How else are they going to show their manliness?” Cristina sighed. “But since you didn’t let him kiss you, I can’t prove I’m right.”

Isabel squared her shoulders. “First, even if I had kissed him, I wouldn’t have rated it or told you how—” she stuttered at the word “—manly he is. That’s just preposterous. Second, how do you know it was me who stopped the kiss? We actually both agreed it might not be a good idea.” There were no rules against it, but they did work together on a daily basis. Things between them were awkward enough already without adding a personal relationship to the mix.

“Oh, pish-posh, Isabel. Kissing is always a good idea.” Cristina stood and took her tray to the dishwashing cart, Isabel trailing behind her. “You need to let go and have fun. I’m telling you, Simon Ackerley is a great kisser. I can just tell.” She puckered her lips, making a kissing sound. “That mouth of his. If I knew he wouldn’t refuse, I’d ask him for a kiss myself.”

Isabel gaped, the tray in her hands. “Cristina,” she said, unable to add anything more.

Cristina stopped on her way out and winked at Isabel. “Think about it.”

Isabel didn’t have to think about it. She’d been thinking about it all weekend; what it would be like to kiss him. And she thought about it some more the next hour, while she took a tour of all the classes and updated her list of students who were sick, she thought about Simon and the almost-kiss. They had both agreed to not complicate their relationship. They hadn’t said it in so many words, but it had been clear. It was a mutual decision and he’d been fine with it, hadn’t he?

So why hadn’t he been at church on Sunday? And today he was late to work. It wasn’t typical of him. Isabel had come to know him in the past few weeks, and he was always considerate and responsible, not to mention he had an impeccable work ethic.

Isabel returned to her office. Maybe something had happened and she should check on him. She reached for her phone and checked on the messages she’d sent earlier. He hadn’t replied. He’d been at home when he’d sent the last message, so she’d start there. Isabel accessed the staff files and looked up his address before turning off the computer. He lived not too far from the academy in an older neighborhood. Before she changed her mind about it, she exited the building and turned in the direction of Simon’s apartment.

* * *

The bell was ringing. Again. Shouldn’t it at least wait fifty minutes before going off? Had the academy changed the daily schedule without telling him?

Simon lifted his head from the pillow then slowly turned over until he faced the ceiling. Not at the academy. In his bed at the apartment. What was he still doing in bed? Was it morning again already?

The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock. So it wasn’t his drug-induced and sickness-ridden imagination. Someone was at the door. Whoever it was, he or she could come back later. He wasn’t ready to see anyone right now.

In between knocks and ringing, a familiar voice called out his name. “Come on, Simon. I know you’re in there.”

Isabel. As much as he wanted to see her, he was in deplorable conditions to do so.

Another knock followed a short pause. “I don’t want to call the fire department to open the door.”

No, he didn’t want that either. Simon stood, grabbed the blanket off the bed, and wrapped it around himself. He then padded his way to the front door, one shuffle at a time.

Once in the foyer, he called out, “Hang on. I’m coming,” and Isabel stopped knocking. He unlocked the door and released the latch then made his way to the nearest seat, in the living room.

“Simon?” Isabel came in and closed the door behind her.

“In the living room.” With effort, he pulled himself into a sitting position. “How did you get in the building?”

She sat across from him. “Your neighbor on the first floor came to the window to see what all the ringing was about. I told her I was your boss and you’d missed work today.”

He smirked. “And she was only too happy to open the door for you.”

Her mouth rose at the corners. “Something like that.” She looked around the living room. “How long have you been like this?”

“Saturday night? Sunday morning, maybe?” It was all a bit muddled. “Did something happen at the academy?”

“Is that your roundabout way of asking me why I’m here?”

Simon shrugged. Typical Isabel. She didn’t beat around the bush.

Isabel scooted to the edge of the sofa. “You didn’t show up at church yesterday and you didn’t come to work today.”

“So you were worried about me?”

“No. I mean, yes.” She looked toward the window and then back at him. “Maybe a little. Just wanted to know why you were late.”

Simon raised his head to look at her. “What time is it?” Had he really missed going to work this morning?”

“Just after lunch.” She leaned forward. “Are you sick?”

Simon scrubbed his face and let out a long breath. “I’m so sorry I didn’t show up. I didn’t sleep very well, and I woke up late. Then I took some medicine…”

The medicine. What had he done with it?

“What kind of medicine did you take?” Isabel asked.

He gestured to the kitchen. “I got it at the service pharmacy yesterday. I think I left it on the counter.”

Isabel stood and walked to the kitchen. She returned holding the small bottle. “What did you tell the pharmacist?”

Simon sat up to look at her. “Communication was a bit of a problem. Between his broken English and my very poor Portuguese, we got some words out.” The translation app had helped with most of it.

“You do know this is a cold medicine with codeine?”

He shook his head and sighed loudly. “That would explain why it knocked me out so thoroughly.” He’d taken a dose after returning from the pharmacy but in the morning, when he got out of bed, he was not feeling much better and had repeated the dose before sending a message to the school. That was the last thing he remembered. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in, Isabel.”

Isabel gave him a small smile. “You have a good excuse. And you’re not the only one. Several teachers and students are out sick too. Whatever kind of virus it is, it’s going around the academy.”

“And you came to check on me?”

Her cheeks flushed. “We sent messages and tried calling you.”

He hadn’t heard any of them. “I’m not even sure where my phone is.” He stood and padded to the bedroom. After poking around for a few minutes, he didn’t find it.

Isabel waited by the entrance to the kitchen when he returned.

“I don’t know where I put it.” He gave her a wide berth and sat on a kitchen chair.

She drew her phone out of her coat pocket and within seconds a faint ringing came from somewhere in the living room. Simon moved to stand but she waved him off. He rested his chin on his hand and closed his eyes for a moment. His head felt fuzzy and the congestion hadn’t cleared up any more than the day before. A cough scratched his throat and he stood to take a drink of water.

“I found it in your coat pocket,” Isabel said, setting the phone down on the table. She watched as he drained the glass. “When was the last time you had anything to eat?” She removed her coat and draped it on the back of the opposite chair.

“I can’t remember.” He must have eaten something, but it was filed away in the vagueness of his memory. He sat back against the wall and clutched the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Isabel approached the nearest cabinet. After a few moments of opening and closing doors and drawers, she stood in the middle of the kitchen with her hands on her hips. “You don’t have anything in your cupboards and the refrigerator is empty. What have you been living on, Simon Ackerley?”

He sat up a little. “What happened to the sugar and the flour?”

Isabel crossed her arms. “You’re right. Excuse me. Almost nothing except a kilo each of sugar, flour, and dry beans. Some butter and an expired Greek yogurt. It would take a miracle to cook anything with these ingredients, even for me.”

Simon smiled weakly. “You’re funny.” He wanted to laugh, but his body hurt too much.

Isabel walked to him and pulled off the blanket. “Come on, let’s go.”

His hands jerked and he reached for the blanket but it was effectively too far. “I rather not go anywhere.”

She pulled at his arm and tried to support him upright. “Just to the shower.” Her fingers circled his bicep and he resisted the urge to flex his muscles.

“Do I smell that bad?” As if it weren’t embarrassing enough for Isabel to see him sick.

“I’m not commenting on that, but it will make you feel better.”