The Woman in His Story

Chapter 5

Vanessa always got emotional when she left the children’s home. When she was there, she enjoyed spending time with the children and reading to them. However, she always left feeling heavy-hearted. The kids were used to it, people came and went all the time, but she always felt sad. It was because it reminded her of cruel the world could be. Many of those kids that were there were abandoned by their parents for some reason or the other - drugs, alcohol, abusive spouses - they didn’t know any other way of living. Their concept of family was not the same as everyone else and that's what broke Vanessa’s heart the most. She wasn’t naive, she knew this happened everywhere, but it still hurt.

She opened her apartment door with a sigh. Thankfully, she had unpacked most of her stuff. It was just a few more boxes in her bedroom and the box of kitchen stuff that Ian brought. Vanessa collapsed on the couch and tried to shake off the sadness. The more she dwelt on in, the worse she would feel. Negative emotions affected her deeply. If she experienced them, it became like a tornado, collecting more negativity. Kyle said she was too much of an empath for her own good. But she knew it would pass - she just had to find something to distract herself with or just let it run its course. Vanessa chose the latter. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander over the events of the day, trying to pick out the highlights. The kids laughing while she read to them and their eyes lighting up when they saw all the books. . . At the thought of their eyes, she remembered Ian’s grey eyes and his dimpled cheek. He was extremely good-looking - and yet not interested in the blonde. Maybe he was gay. Vanessa’s eyes shot open as she chuckled to herself. That would make sense.

“Ooooh, Kyle is gonna be so pissed he’s not here,” she said out loud.

Vanessa’s stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped lunch.

“Early dinner it is then,” she said, getting off the couch.

She opened the fridge, knowing she had leftovers from yesterday. She took out the leftover chicken, but it didn’t seem appealing. So she also grabbed the vegetables she had in there. She decided to make a spicy stir fry and noodles. Vanessa put on some music to listen to as she cooked. She had always been good in the kitchen. It wasn’t because she learned from her mom or used recipes. She just had this natural intuition - she kept tasting as she cooked, adjusting along the way. Vanessa cut everything up and started adding all the ingredients to the pan. Before long, the fragrant smells of ginger, fresh bell peppers, and chili filled the apartment. She had just put the noodles to cook when her doorbell rang.

She went to the door and tried to check who was there through the peephole. She was surprised to see Ian there. Vanessa opened the door a bit flustered.

“Hey, Ian,”

“Hey, Vanessa,” he smiled, “I heard music playing, so I figured you were home,”

“I’m sorry. Was it too loud?” asked Vanessa, as she hurried to her phone to stop it.

She was secretly praying he hadn’t heard her singing.

“Oh, no! Please don’t apologize. I was waiting for you to get home to give you this,” said Ian.

He handed over the small box from Marco’s.

“To say thank you for the recommendation,” he added when she didn’t say anything. “The cronut was amazing, and I got to meet Marco,”

Vanessa opened the box and saw the cannolo inside.

Vanessa smiled, “You didn’t have to. Thank you, though. I appreciate it,”

Just then, Ian’s stomach growled loudly - and for a surprisingly long time.

The two of them looked at each other and laughed.

“Well, that’s not embarrassing at all,” Ian chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, whatever you’re cooking smells amazing, and apparently, after a cronut, cannolo, and coffee - I’m still hungry,”

Vanessa laughed, “Dude! That’s not food!”

“I beg to differ. It was delicious,” he countered.

“Yeah, but normally accompanied by a meal or a sandwi -

Vanessa was interrupted by the sound of her noodles boiling on the stove.

“s**t,” she said, running to take the pot off the heat before it boiled over.

Ian peered in the doorway, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, just put too much water in the pot. Come on in, Ian. I just need to strain this,”

“No, no. I’ll leave you to it. I still have some unpacking to do,”

“Ian, please come in. My mother would kill me if I didn’t feed you,”

Ian looked at her shocked, “I couldn’t possibly -

Vannesa just gave him a look that left no argument.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to,”

Vanessa laughed, “If you haven’t noticed, I’m Indian. We always feed everyone,”

“Can I help with anything?”

“No, don’t stress. Everything’s done. I just need to plate up,”

Ian suddenly remembered he had a bottle of wine in his apartment.

“Do you like wine? Or beer? I can grab them from next door,” he said, walking toward the door.

“What do you prefer?” she asked.

“No, what do you prefer?”

“I prefer wine - but you don’t have to open it just because of me,”

“Vanessa, you are letting me eat your food,” he laughed, “If you want wine, we will drink wine,”

With that, Ian left to get the wine, leaving Vanessa alone for a few moments. She began to panic. What was she doing? Was she being weird? She just invited her new neighbor to have dinner with her - or late lunch. Was there a word for that? Brunch was a thing. What would it be, Linner? Dunch? That sounded weird.

Ian returned to see Vanessa with the funniest expression on her face. It was like she was questioning something. Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed. Was he being too intrusive? She insisted, though.

“What you thinking about?” he chuckled.

Vanessa snapped out of her inner debate and looked up at Ian. He was ridiculously tall. Although, at 5’2, almost everyone was taller than her.

“What do you call a meal between lunch and dinner?”

“Let’s see. There’s breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses -

Vanessa laughed, “You really going to quote Lord of The Rings at me?”

“What? I thought there would be an answer in there!”

“Then, according to Pippin, this will be afternoon tea,” she said, placing a steaming plate on the table.

“Better get the teacups then,” Ian laughed, holding up the wine.

Vanessa laughed and brought out two mugs to be funny. Placing it on the table along with the corkscrew.

“Not that I don’t have wine glasses, but this seems like a good way to have afternoon tea,”

The rest of the meal went on with much laughter. Thankfully, Ian could handle spicy. Vanessa had been worried because not many people could appreciate her love of chili. Ian was pretty chilled and easy to talk to.

“So, what kind of books do you write?” she asked.

“Suspense,” said Ian, in between bites. “I’ve always disappeared into my head and imagined the most ludicrous things”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know whether I should tell you. You will never let me eat your food again - This is amazing, by the way.”

“Thank you, and I promise I won’t think you’re weird.”

Ian smirked and shook his head, “Nah, you still don’t know me well enough yet,”

“Nevermind, I’ll just go find your books and read it,”

“Book. Singular. I’ve only published one. The book deal is for a continuation of the series - and you will never find it because I use a pen name,”

“A nom de plume! Pray tell, why?”

“Well, fear, mostly. I didn’t want to put my name on the book in case it tanked,”

“I get that. I’m also kinda a writer but not really on the same level as you,”

“What! How have you not mentioned this?”

“Well, to be fair, you didn’t really ask. Actually, you didn’t tell me you’re a writer either. You just mentioned your publisher earlier, so I just made an assumption,”

Ian shook his head and laughed. She was right. They knew nothing about each other, and there they were, sharing a meal and joking around like two old friends.

“Let’s rectify this. . . Vanessa? What do you do for a living?”

“Well, Ian. I’m a freelance content writer. I mostly write website content and blog posts - ghostwrite the occasional article or book chapter,”

“I used to do that as a side hustle,” chuckled Ian. “I was an accountant - worked a regular 9 to 5 and started writing as a side hustle,”

“Ha! I can top that!” she said, sitting up straighter. “I was a research scientist and quit because I was bored to death. I stumbled onto content writing, figured out I was good at it, and here I am.”

“Never considered writing your own book?” he asked.

She gave a small smile, “It was a dream of mine when I was a kid - but I’m not ready yet. . .For now, I’m happy to grow and learn. Maybe I’ll get the confidence to do it later.”

“You will never have enough confidence,” he sighed. “It is frustrating and rewarding and scary, all at the same time. I still don’t know how I’m going to do it again - but, I can’t really back out of a book deal,”

“The hardest part is done,” she said, standing up and grabbing his empty plate. “You started. Now it’s just a matter of continuing the journey.”

“Please, let me take those,” he said, getting up and trying to take the plates, “It’s the least I can do.”

“No, my apartment. My rules,” she said.

“Fine, when I’m done unpacking, I promise to invite you over for afternoon tea,”

“Deal. You wanna split the cannolo for dessert?” she asked, holding up the box.

“No, that is all yours. I had one earlier.”

“You sure,”

“Woman. Stop it. That bakery has become a weak point in just one day. I’m going to be fat by the end of the month.”

“Why do you think I look like this?” she laughed, gesturing to her body.

Vanessa made it a joke, but it stung a bit. She always carried some extra weight - but somehow, it became like a security blanket. Even though she knew people judged her for it - she couldn’t be bothered to lose it. But she made the jokes first to make it seem like she didn’t care.

“Hey, how did it go at the children’s home?” he asked.

“It was good. They were happy with the books - I read to them a little before I left,” she said with a sad smile.

“What’s that look?” he asked, c*****g his head. “You seem . . . sad”

Vanessa was surprised by his observation. No one was really able to read her emotions.

“I always get a little sad when I visit them,” she said. “They’re happy there - and safe - which is the best part….but I always feel sad when I think about how they ended up there,”

Vanessa explained everything while she washed the dishes. He just listened to her the entire time, without interrupting or asking questions. When Vanessa finally looked up, she was surprised to find him looking at her intently.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just find the fact that you feel so deeply refreshing.”

Vanessa laughed, “I think you mean depressing?”

“No, seriously! Everyone is so full of themselves these days. Any other person who donated books to a children’s home would have broadcasted it on social media with pictures and went home feeling good about themselves. While you - you’re here feeling guilty that you can’t give them a better life. The thing you don’t realize is that you already have. You spent quality time with them. That’s more than any donation could offer.”

Vanessa laughed, “How much wine did you drink?”

“I’m serious, Vanessa!”

She just laughed again and walked back to grab her mug.

“Can I come with you next time?” he asked.

“What?”

“To see the kids. Can I come with you?”

“You don’t need me to go,”

“Yeah, but you know the kids already, Vanessa. They would be more comfortable than if I just showed up,”

He did have a point.

“Okay. I’ll let you know when I’m going again,”

“Excellent!” he said. “By the way, can I copy this layout? Everything looks like it has a perfect spot here,”

“Excuse me? I will charge you with plagiarism!” she joked.

“Well, I don’t have the same furniture….so it would be more like paraphrasing,” he said with a wink.

“Well, I guess we all can’t be originals,” she laughed.