Dra Anderson – Part 1: Introduction

For Jeff, time moved in slow motion. The long-awaited vacation he had spent the last seven months planning was finally on the horizon. He was admittedly less than thrilled about the extended time away from the office—but somehow, she made it make sense. For the first time in seven years, he would be out for more than two consecutive days.

“Fourteen days? Two weeks? Baby? I have so much to do,” Jeff exclaimed, pacing back and forth. “I mean…” he stuttered. “We—we’re both pretty busy, but I think we’re doing our best. Don’t you?” He searched her face for agreement but gave her no time to respond.

“Two weeks?” he repeated, now rubbing his head aggressively as he continued pacing. “I’m going to guess rescheduling isn’t an option?” he asked, now standing in front of her.

She was seated on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window—seemingly unfazed by his rant, but visibly annoyed that he was now blocking the view.

This was the last condo on their list. They’d both agreed to step away from the process if no decision was made. After four months of research and weekends planned around brunch and viewings, they were ready to give up. But during their final showing, the realtor opened the door—and there it was. They stood frozen, mouths ajar and eyes full of wonder. The 2,000-square-foot condo had wall-to-wall exposed brick, a wood-burning fireplace, and a panoramic view of the city. “Sold,” Jeff muttered under his breath, his head moving like a swivel as he took in the view.

Jeff dropped his hand from his head and placed it on her familiar shoulder. Her skin was smooth, warm, and inviting.  “I know this wasn’t part of the plan,” he began. He pulled his other hand from his pocket and gently cradled her chin. Lifting her head to meet his gaze, he said, “But you know I have to go.”

With a gentle jerk, she pulled her face from his touch.

Dra sat in silence, making the apartment feel louder than it had ever been for Jeff. Disappointed, he plopped down on the bed beside her, his audible sigh a sign of defeat. As the city returned to her view, Dra smiled faintly. She stood up slowly, tightened the belt of her kimono-style robe, and walked toward the living room—the oversized robe trailing behind her.

She bought it last month during their weekend getaway to South Carolina. It was navy and cream, her two favorite colors. Navy had been her father’s favorite, and cream, as she often said, “just looks good against my skin.” It was her third cream trench coat—this one with faux fur around the collar. She couldn’t wait to wear it.

As she walked away, Jeff couldn’t help but notice how perfectly the robe’s fabric hugged her body. She began massaging the back of her neck, her head tilting to one side. Jeff’s jaw clenched as the robe slipped to reveal her shoulder—reminding him she was completely naked underneath.

In the living room, she opened the armoire to reveal a well-stocked bar. Jeff had been furious when she first dragged that oversized antique home.

“When was this made? The 1800s?” he asked.

“It’s an antique, Jeff,” she quipped from the kitchen. “How many times do I have to tell you? One man’s trash—”

“—ends up in the middle of our living room,” Jeff cut her off.

Four weeks later, the DIY project he had sworn would be a disaster turned out to be the most beautiful piece of furniture in the condo.

“Voilà!” Dra beamed, arms outstretched like a game show model.

He had to admit—it was beautiful, and barely resembled the junk he remembered. Dra had worked on it while he was out and kept it covered in a blue tarp when he was around. Now they stood, arms wrapped around each other, admiring their first real piece of furniture.

“This is really nice, Dra,” Jeff said. “I have to admit, I didn’t know what to expect. I’m impressed.”

Resting her head on his chest, she replied, “Thanks, baby. I worked hard on this.”

“I can tell,” he said, then raised an eyebrow. “Is this what you needed a saw for?”

“Yes,” Dra laughed.

Jeff watched her smile—and everything felt right. Her happiness was important to him. When she finally looked up, their gaze locked.

“I was right.”

At the bar, Dra picked up a glass and made her way to the kitchen. She pushed it against the fridge lever,  the fridge hummed for three seconds before dispensing two perfectly round ice spheres. She smiled.

On the way back to the living room, she paused to adjust the flower arrangement on the counter. The two-week-old bouquet was holding up better than expected. At the bar, she scanned the tantalus until she found the aged rum she loved. The decanter was heavier than it looked, but she poured just enough to cover the ice spheres. Warm from Jeff’s stare, she refused to acknowledge him.

She returned the decanter, closed the cabinet, and stepped onto the balcony, grabbing her wrap for the evening chill. The fresh air engulfed her—and the beautiful view had her attention once again.

Now seated in the oversized egg chair, she let out a heavy exhale. At some point, she knew she’d have to say something to Jeff. She leaned forward carefully. Falling out the chair, and spilling her drink would be the final straw, she thought.

She reached in the ashtray to retrieve the remainder of the joint she and Jeff shared earlier, and lit it.

About 45 minutes passed before Jeff joined her—glass of wine in one hand, bottle of rum in the other. He always seemed to know exactly how much time she needed. She shifted slightly, making room for him without being asked. He offered to top off her drink. She nodded.

“It feels good out here,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. She smiled and rested her head on his bare chest. The city was alive below them, but at this moment, everything was quiet. Somewhere in the background, John Coltrane’s Like Someone in Love was playing.

After a second glass of wine, Jeff wanted to talk—again. Her silence drove him crazy. He’d never admit it, but it left him uncertain. He hoped to grow more tolerant of it—but hadn’t yet.

He set his glass down and turned to her. “Baby, listen. I understand this situation is not—”

“Please stop,” Dra said, cutting him off. “Please stop talking. You’ve been talking all night, and I’d like you to stop.”

Jeff was floored. She hadn’t spoken in over three hours—and this was the first thing she said?

Now what the fuck do I do with this? he thought.

“Balance,” she said. “We can do it all. We can have it all. We just have to prioritize and create balance. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying, Jeff. Considering everything I’m trying—”

“I know you are,” he interrupted.

“Please stop talking,” she said again, this time with more force. “I am trying my best, but I have my limits, Jeff.”

Everything paused. Then resumed, once again, in slow motion for Jeff. This was the first time he had seen her even slightly discomposed.

Feelings? Are these feelings?

He watched her closely—the curve of her lip, the tension in her jaw, the flaring of her nostrils, the way her hands moved like an orchestra conductors. At that moment, he wanted her more than he ever had.

Her voice returned to its usual soft tone, but everything still felt submerged for Jeff.

“But if you’re okay, then I’m okay with that,” she said. Her voice landed softly in his ears.

She kissed him gently, then stood up, gathered her glass and the bottle of rum, and went inside. Jeff exhaled, poured the rest of his wine into his mouth, and turned to see Dra disrobing and climbing into bed.

He decided to clean the balcony in the morning.

Then, he joined her in bed.
They made love.
Again.