Book 9 1/2 Weeks Novels & Stories

She smiled into the phone. "Corny." "True." She visited him that weekend. The apartment was different. Boxes everywhere. Half-packed. Half-empty. "It looks strange," she said. "It feels strange." She walked through the rooms. Touched his things. The books he was keeping. The clothes he was donating. "This is really happening." "In eight weeks." She sat on his half-empty couch. "I still don't know what to do." He sat beside her. "Then don't decide yet." "But you leave in eight weeks."

My hand cramped the last clothes I brought into my suitcase, then closed it. Three hours later my plane departs, meaning one and a half hours later I have to be at the airport. I opened my suitcase again and threw a book into it. "I've already called a taxi." A blonde head appeared from behind the door. I smiled as I zipped up my suitcase. "Thanks, Lana." She came into my room and jumped onto my bed, her long legs dangling gracefully on the edge of my bed. "You sure that's enough for two weeks?" he asked, looking down at my small suitcase.

She signed: "You were right about April." He signed: "The wildflowers." She: "And the light. And the quality of the air." She paused. "You were right about all of it." He: "The book was very specific." She: "You had seven weeks to read about it." He: "Nine weeks. I started reading about April in February." She looked at him. She signed: "You planned this month for nine weeks." He: "I wanted it to be right." She signed: "It is right."

He had been ready for September in a way he had not been ready for it before, because September now meant: the sofa and the books and the lamp in the evenings, the north windows catching the different light, the rhythm of two people who had been together long enough to have rhythms. Twelve months. Almost exactly. Wednesday is in October — thirty-eight days from now. He had been tracking it without intending to, the same way he tracked the east window light and the brick bonding and the progress of the chalk plant on the sill. The first of these was approaching: the full year.

69 BPM. “‘No court,’” Adrian read. “‘No Reese. Just us.’ And it was true. For 3 weeks.” “And then?” Alex asked. Routine. Day 28. “Then we got to 4 weeks,” I said. Lying down. Next to them. All three. Floor. Between cribs. “And counting.” _Silence. 9:16 PM._ “4 weeks is more than 3,” Alex said. Yawning. Fact. “So we win.”

I reached for my bag and pulled out a book about the pearl bead, then handed it to him. "Here" he collected it. "You'll get some basic ideas about it, just read the book" He nodded as he stared at the book with a frown. "I don't think I'll need this, but...ok" he shrugged. "I know this is your specialty, it's what you're training for, so, when should I get back to you for results?" I asked. "Hmm" he tilted his head. "Latest three days" he said. Three days?

Competing her book boyfriends had been on my list for a long time ago since she explained how much they mattered to her. "Good." I kept my hands an inch from her stomach. "Fine with it?" She nodded. "Words." "Yes. It's aching too much." I placed my hands on her stomach, rubbing my thumb against it and felt the heat of the bottle coming to me. She wrapped the blanket around both of us, leaned her head back and sighed but a smile was dancing at the edge of her lips, conveying I wasn't doing anything wrong. Just a week more. She would move out after a week.

Do you think I will get better? ••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• Three weeks Later

"Shocking." We laugh. Kiss. Hold each other. "Six and a half weeks," he says. "Six and a half weeks." "I'm ready. Are you?" "I'm getting there. This weekend helped." "Good. Because I'm not letting you back out now." "I'm not backing out. Just—processing." "Process away. I'll be here when you're done." Tuesday, I journal:

I was tired but opened my laptop anyway. "More Hopkins work?" Adrian said. "Just checking the presentation outline." "You've checked it fifteen times." "And I'll check it again. This matters too much to miss something." He didn't argue. I worked for another hour while he read. At midnight I closed the laptop. "January is nine weeks away," I said. "You're ready." "I'm almost ready. I need to review the protocol documentation one more time." "You have nine weeks." "I'd rather be over-prepared."