Gray and Blue
1152 Words
7:30 AM.
Lucien was already dressed.
Blue shirt. No tie. Gray slacks.
He looked like he hadn’t slept.
“You’re nervous,” I said.
“Yes,” he said.
“About what?”
“My mother.”
He was making coffee. Hands shaking.
“Can I tell you why I’m nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Because for 30 years she’s asked me when I’m getting married. And now I’m bringing home a girl with no ring, no last name in the papers, and a thesis I supervised.”
I took the coffee from him.
“So tell her the truth.”
“What’s that?”
“That you ask now,” I said.
He looked at me.
“Can we go?”
“Yes.”
---
The Ashford House. 10:00 AM.
It was big. Too big.
White columns. Ivy. The kind of house that has a name.
His mother opened the door.
Eleanor Ashford. Blue dress. Pearls.
She looked at him.
Then at me.
Then at our hands.
We weren’t holding them. Yet.
“Lucien,” she said. “You look tired.”
“I am,” he said. “Mom, this is Maya. Maya, this is my mother.”
Eleanor’s eyes flicked to me.
Gray sweater. Jeans. No jewelry.
“Maya,” she said. “Come in.”
The house smelled like tea and old books.
“Can I get you tea?” Eleanor asked me.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Lucien, help me.”
They disappeared into the kitchen.
I heard whispering.
2 minutes later, they came back.
Eleanor set the tea down in front of me.
“Lucien tells me you’re a student,” she said.
“Graduate,” I said. “History.”
“Ah,” she said. “And how did you meet?”
Lucien opened his mouth.
I beat him to it.
“He was my advisor.”
Eleanor’s cup paused halfway to her mouth.
“I see,” she said.
Silence.
Lucien’s knee was bouncing under the table.
I put my hand over it. Stopped it.
Eleanor saw.
“May I speak to my son alone for a moment?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I said.
I went to the garden.
Sat on a bench.
Listened to the fountain.
10 minutes.
Then the door opened.
Lucien.
He sat next to me. Didn’t touch me.
“She’s mad,” he said.
“I figured.”
“She’s also scared,” he said. “For me. For you. For the name.”
“What did you tell her?”
“The truth,” he said. “That I broke rules. That I’m not your advisor anymore. That I resigned. That I love you. That I ask now.”
I looked at him.
“You said love?”
“I did,” he said. “Was that okay?”
“Yes,” I said.
He took my hand.
“Can I go back in there with you?”
“Yes.”
---
Back in the living room.
Eleanor was waiting.
She looked at our hands.
Then at our faces.
“Maya,” she said. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“For assuming,” she said. “That you were... a mistake.”
She sighed.
“Lucien has never brought anyone home. He’s never asked permission for anything.He asked me this morning if it was okay to bring you.That’s new.”
She looked at me.
“Do you make him happy?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Do you make him better?”
“I try,” I said.
“Good,” she said. “Then I don’t care about the thesis.”
She stood.
“Lunch is in an hour. Stay.”
Lucien exhaled.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“Don’t thank me,” she said. “Thank her.”
---
Lunch.
Eleanor asked me questions.
About my work. About my family. About why history.
She didn’t ask about the Ashford Building.
She didn’t ask about the board.
After, she pulled me aside in the hallway.
“I was hard on him,” she said quietly. “When he was young. Told him power meant never asking.I was wrong.”
She touched my hand.
“Thank you for teaching him otherwise.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I just nodded.
---
On the drive home.
Lucien was quiet.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m just... relieved.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I’d have to choose,” he said. “Between you and them.”
“And?”
“I choose you,” he said. “Every time.”
He pulled over.
On the side of the road.
Turned to me.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
He did.
In the car.
In daylight.
No hiding.
“Can we go home?” he asked after.
“Yes.”
---
Back at my apartment. 4:00 PM.
He dropped his keys on the table.
Took off his jacket.
Like he lived here.
“Can I stay tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Can I cook?”
“You burned pasta yesterday.”
“I’ll try again.”
He did.
This time it wasn’t burned.
We ate on the floor.
Because the table felt too formal.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“What.”
“Do you regret it? Any of it? The office. The rules. Me.”
I thought about it.
About Day 1.
About Day 180.
About today.
“No,” I said. “Because it got us here.”
He nodded.
Reached across and took my hand.
“Can I hold your hand while we watch TV?”
“Yes.”
We watched a bad movie.
His thumb traced circles on my knuckles.
At 11:00 PM he stood.
“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”
I looked at him.
Gray t-shirt. Bare feet.
Asking.
“Yes,” I said.
He didn’t jump on me.
He didn’t push.
He just crawled under the covers next to me.
Pulled me against him.
Arm around my waist.
“Is this okay?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I said.
We fell asleep like that.
---
Day 185. 6:00 AM.
I woke up first.
He was still asleep.
Face relaxed.
No tie. No board. No mask.
Just Lucien.
I traced his jaw with my finger.
He smiled in his sleep.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
“Morning,” I said.
He opened his eyes.
“Can I kiss you good morning?”
“Yes.”
He did.
Slow.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Because now he did.
---
11:00 AM. Text from Eleanor.
E: He looks better. So do you.
Dinner Sunday?
Me: Yes.
E: Good. Wear gray. He likes you in gray.
Me: I know.
- Writer
