Under Mr Nolan's bed

“You girls be good,” he said, looking at me then. I swallowed hard and dropped my eyes to the floor.

“So who is this girl?” Erica cocked her head at him.

“Woman,” he corrected, straightening the collar of his jacket and glancing at me. My stomach was clenched and aching. “Someone from work.”

“And how long have you known her?” Erica pressed on, and I began rubbing furiously at the red nail polish spot on my skin.

“Long enough.” He gave her a smile. “No third degrees, alright?

“Well, she must be pretty special.” Erica frowned, dipping the drying nail polish brush back into the bottle. “I can count on one hand the number of dates you’ve gone on since mom died.”

“She’s… just a girl.” He grabbed his keys off the rack on the wall.

“Woman,” he corrected himself, clearing his throat again. “And we’re meeting for drinks. Very casual kind of date.”

“Well, you look great, Mr. Nolan,” I said, holding my hand out as Erica started painting my nails again. I knew my heart was in my eyes, and something moved over his face when he looked at me, something pained and it made me want to cry.

“Thanks, Leah,” he said. “I won’t be too late. You girls be good.” He said it again, with an emphasis on good. “I mean it.”

“We will,” Erica assured him. “We’ve got chick flicks, microwave popcorn and nail polish-we’re set for the night.”

He laughed, reaching over and brushing Erica’s hair out of her eyes. “You two are something else.” I tilted my face up to look at him as he passed, wanting him to touch me, too, but knowing he wouldn’t.

“Well how about that,” Erica said as the front door closed behind him. “My dad, on a date.”

“He’s still a man.” I watched her hand tremble slightly as she moved the brush toward my nails. “I imagine he misses… women…” Erica nodded, turning my hand a little for a better angle. “It’s been five years… I guess it’s about time.”

In spite of her words, she didn’t look any happier about the prospect of her dad going on a date than I did, and while we went through the motions, watching The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and eating popcorn and getting our newly-painted nails all buttery, both of our thoughts were elsewhere.

It wasn’t until I was tucked into the sleeping bag on the floor and Erica had turned out the light that one of us mentioned it again. “I wish my mom was here.” Erica sighed.

I nodded, feeling tears prick my eyes, but didn’t say anything. Mrs. Nolan had been like my second mom. I couldn’t remember much about that time, except that Erica missed a lot of school, and the few times I was allowed over that year, I remembered Mrs. Nolan wearing a scarf on her head, her face gaunt, but her smile and her voice were always the same.

“I guess this is how life goes on,” she whispered in the dark. I moved out of my sleeping bag and crept up into the bed, lying next to her. I couldn’t imagine losing my mother-I couldn’t for a minute know what it must feel like. I just knew I wanted to comfort her.

She sniffed and pulled my arm over her as she turned toward the wall. We fell asleep that way, her first-her breathing going from those soft little hitches to a deep, even cadence-and then me, drifting off to the rise and fall of her back against my chest.

I woke up twice that night. The first time, I heard voices. Erica was sleeping soundly, snoring a little, and I slipped my arm out from under hers and eased off the bed. When I opened her door, I could hear the voices more clearly.

It was Mr. Nolan and a woman.

I should have closed the door and gone back to sleep, but I didn’t. They were downstairs, so I crept onto the landing until I could see where they were sitting side-by-side and kissing on the couch. All of their clothes were on, but the woman had her leg up over his, and her skirt was riding high up her thigh. Mr.

Nolan’s hand was there, pressing it up further.

“Oh, wait,” the blonde murmured, breaking their kiss. Mr. Nolan’s mouth traveled down her neck, his hand moving further up her thigh. “Rob, wait, wait…” He stopped then, his breath coming so fast I could hear it from where I was sitting, peeking through the railing.

“I… think I should go home.” She extracted her leg from his and smoothed her skirt. “I like you, but maybe we should… go a little slower.” He sighed and nodded as she picked up her purse. “Are you sure you’re okay to drive home?”

“I’m fine.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I had a good time.”

“Me, too,” he agreed, standing and helping her up. I slipped further up the stairs as they started toward the door. “I’ll call you.”

“You better,” she purred, and I couldn’t see them anymore, but I could tell they were kissing. I went quietly back to Erica’s room with a tight, burning ball in the pit of my stomach. I climbed back into the sleeping bag and hugged my pillow. I thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, but I drifted off before I even heard him come upstairs for the night.