The Plan
She heard the slight thump of feet landing on her balcony. A smile lit Catherine’s face. However, tonight she did not run and fling open the French doors to her balcony; tonight she sat on one of her dinky couches, as Joe called them, waiting. She had lit numerous candles about the apartment and turned the electric lights down or off to achieve a more “Below” atmosphere. Since she had returned from her visit to Nancy, Vincent had become more demonstrative in his affections. She wondered if that might include entering her apartment. He almost had the night of their second anniversary. Perhaps enough time had passed since that fiasco to confront what kept him on the outside. She watched the shadow of him pacing back and forth, waiting for her to notice and come out. She sat resolutely on the couch, determined in her plan. Of course, every minute she sat was one less minute spent with him. The greater good, Chandler, she thought, the greater good. Eventually, the light tap of claws on the window reached her ears. “Come in!” Hesitation. Time crawled. “The doors are open, Vincent.” Encouragement. Her heart beat louder. She heard the snick of the knob turning and the latch freeing itself from its mooring. She held her breath for what would come next: a voice beckoning her outside, or an entry into a small part of her world. She would accept either option, but she was hoping he would finally share her space as she shared his Below. She did not realize she had shut her eyes until they blinked open when her ears heard his voice: “You look beautiful sitting there, surrounded in candlelight.”
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