Read Online Me Without You by Kelly Rimmer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kelly Rimmer
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good time to reinforce that whole thing we decided about just one dinner ?’
‘You can remind me in the morning,’ I suggested as I motioned for the waiter to bring our bill.
----
L ilah’s unit made my unrenovated bargain look like a shack. It was only a few blocks from mine, but where my home was on the ground floor of a 1970s red-brick box, hers was on the top floor of a near-new development right on the ocean. I looked out from my kitchen into a laneway, but the balcony off Lilah’s living areas skimmed the top of the pine trees that line Manly beach.
Her home was beautiful, although there was a slight discord in the mix of modernity and comfort items from her past. There were glossy white tiles and bright red leather couches, mingled with rainbow-speckled Peruvian throws and pillows. Modern wallpaper adorned one wall in the living area, a black-and-white chevron print, but this surface was then cluttered with randomly framed photos of Lilah and idyllic scenes across the world in a completely disorganised fashion. I suppose the artist in me cringed a little at the chaos of it all, but the rest of me was delighted. I was right there, in her home—and that meant that I knew where she lived.
‘When someone comes home with you, do you ever feel like the dynamic changes?’ She went straight to the kitchen and retrieved two glasses and a half-empty bottle of wine. ‘I mean, you’re here now. Am I host, or am I lover? Do I offer you a snack, or rip your clothes off?’
‘You should definitely go with whatever impulse overtakes you,’ I said, as calmly as I could given the mental image she’d just generously provided. Lilah walked past me, towards the bright red couches, and I noticed her feet.
‘Your shoes are already off.’
‘Of course,’ she sat the bottle on a glass tabletop and curled up in the corner of the L-shaped lounge. ‘Don’t you take your shoes off at home?’
‘Yes… but…’ I laughed and shook my head, ‘I didn’t even notice you do it.’
‘I usually do two things when I walk in the front door,’ she informed me. ‘I take my shoes off, and I take my bra off. The only reason I didn’t do the latter is I thought you might want to do it yourself later.’
‘Very kind of you.’
‘I do try.’
‘So, last night was pretty amazing.’ I sat on the couch beside her and reached for my wine.
‘It was,’ she agreed.
‘I was confused when you were gone in the morning.’
‘And I was confused by how you live without a real kitchen.’ I noticed that she’d deflected my question, and for a moment I contemplated trying to steer it back to her early morning disappearing act. I didn’t want the conversation to get awkward though. I was in her home—wasn’t that enough for now?
‘I’m going to renovate it.’
‘Like you’re going to go to Paris?’
‘Exactly.’
‘What else are you going to do?’
‘Don’t you have a work-in-progress list?’ I shrugged.
‘My work-in-progress at the moment is finishing this wine. That’s about as long as I leave things undone if I want to do them.’ She sipped her wine then glanced at me. ‘Maybe I can understand that you’re too busy with work to go visit your brother. But seriously, that unit? What’s the go with that?’
‘I bought that place because I thought it’d be a fun weekend project. I had visions of spending my weeknights up a ladder and laying floorboards.’
‘But?’
‘But then I bought tiles for the bathroom and got them home and they weren’t right,’ I sighed. ‘The tone was wrong, too warm for the paint I’d bought, so I took them back and was going to get some samples and try again.’
‘And that was it?’
‘No, I got a bunch of sample tiles, but none of them were quite right either. And by then I’d run out of steam for the bathroom and I started ripping out the kitchen. I just want it to be right . What’s the point of a project like that if it’s not perfect? Besides which, I still
‘You can remind me in the morning,’ I suggested as I motioned for the waiter to bring our bill.
----
L ilah’s unit made my unrenovated bargain look like a shack. It was only a few blocks from mine, but where my home was on the ground floor of a 1970s red-brick box, hers was on the top floor of a near-new development right on the ocean. I looked out from my kitchen into a laneway, but the balcony off Lilah’s living areas skimmed the top of the pine trees that line Manly beach.
Her home was beautiful, although there was a slight discord in the mix of modernity and comfort items from her past. There were glossy white tiles and bright red leather couches, mingled with rainbow-speckled Peruvian throws and pillows. Modern wallpaper adorned one wall in the living area, a black-and-white chevron print, but this surface was then cluttered with randomly framed photos of Lilah and idyllic scenes across the world in a completely disorganised fashion. I suppose the artist in me cringed a little at the chaos of it all, but the rest of me was delighted. I was right there, in her home—and that meant that I knew where she lived.
‘When someone comes home with you, do you ever feel like the dynamic changes?’ She went straight to the kitchen and retrieved two glasses and a half-empty bottle of wine. ‘I mean, you’re here now. Am I host, or am I lover? Do I offer you a snack, or rip your clothes off?’
‘You should definitely go with whatever impulse overtakes you,’ I said, as calmly as I could given the mental image she’d just generously provided. Lilah walked past me, towards the bright red couches, and I noticed her feet.
‘Your shoes are already off.’
‘Of course,’ she sat the bottle on a glass tabletop and curled up in the corner of the L-shaped lounge. ‘Don’t you take your shoes off at home?’
‘Yes… but…’ I laughed and shook my head, ‘I didn’t even notice you do it.’
‘I usually do two things when I walk in the front door,’ she informed me. ‘I take my shoes off, and I take my bra off. The only reason I didn’t do the latter is I thought you might want to do it yourself later.’
‘Very kind of you.’
‘I do try.’
‘So, last night was pretty amazing.’ I sat on the couch beside her and reached for my wine.
‘It was,’ she agreed.
‘I was confused when you were gone in the morning.’
‘And I was confused by how you live without a real kitchen.’ I noticed that she’d deflected my question, and for a moment I contemplated trying to steer it back to her early morning disappearing act. I didn’t want the conversation to get awkward though. I was in her home—wasn’t that enough for now?
‘I’m going to renovate it.’
‘Like you’re going to go to Paris?’
‘Exactly.’
‘What else are you going to do?’
‘Don’t you have a work-in-progress list?’ I shrugged.
‘My work-in-progress at the moment is finishing this wine. That’s about as long as I leave things undone if I want to do them.’ She sipped her wine then glanced at me. ‘Maybe I can understand that you’re too busy with work to go visit your brother. But seriously, that unit? What’s the go with that?’
‘I bought that place because I thought it’d be a fun weekend project. I had visions of spending my weeknights up a ladder and laying floorboards.’
‘But?’
‘But then I bought tiles for the bathroom and got them home and they weren’t right,’ I sighed. ‘The tone was wrong, too warm for the paint I’d bought, so I took them back and was going to get some samples and try again.’
‘And that was it?’
‘No, I got a bunch of sample tiles, but none of them were quite right either. And by then I’d run out of steam for the bathroom and I started ripping out the kitchen. I just want it to be right . What’s the point of a project like that if it’s not perfect? Besides which, I still
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