Morning? Ila replied, focusing very hard on her orange juice. Sleep well? He asked. Yes, thank you. That bed is it’s really comfortable. Good. I had it customade. Nothing but the best for my wife. There was something almost teasing in his tone. Ila glanced at him and caught what might have been a twinkle in his watery eyes. Was he making a joke? Breakfast was brought out. Fancy stuff. Ila couldn’t even name and they ate in silence for a bit.
Then Dawn spoke. “So Ila, tell me about yourself. What do you do?” “I’m a graphic designer,” Ila said. “Well, trying to be. I mostly do freelance work right now. Small stuff, logos, flyers, that kind of thing.” “Interesting,” Don said. And he actually sounded interested. “I’ve always respected creative types. I can’t draw a stick figure to save my life. Despite herself, Ila smiled. I’m sure you have other talents. Making money mostly, Dawn said dryly. Not very creative, but it pays the bills.
There was that humor again. Self-deprecating, but sharp. What do you do? Ila asked. For work, I mean. Real estate, investments, some tech ventures, Don said casually like he wasn’t describing being absurdly wealthy. Boring stuff. I mostly work from home these days. The the way I look makes business meetings awkward. Ila’s chest tightened with unexpected sympathy. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Don looked at her surprised. “For what?” “That people are shallow,” Ila said. “It’s not fair.” Don studied her for a long moment, his scarred face unreadable.
“You’re kinder than I expected,” he finally said. What did you expect? Ila asked. Honestly, someone who could barely stand to be in the same room with me, Dawn said bluntly. Someone who’d take the money and avoid me like the plague. But here you are having breakfast with me, making conversation. It’s nice. Ila felt that guilt again because yeah, she was disgusted by his appearance. She just had good manners, but she couldn’t tell him that. Well, we’re married, Ila said instead.
Might as well get to know each other, right? Something shifted in Dawn’s expression. Something warm. Right, he agreed. Over the next few days, a pattern developed. They’d have breakfast together each morning. Dawn would ask about her design work, her life, her dreams. He was genuinely interested, asking follow-up questions, offering advice on the business side of freelancing. You’re undercharging,” Don said one morning, looking at Ila’s rates on her laptop. “This logo would take you what, 6 hours? You’re charging $200.
You should be charging at least a,000.” “A,000?” Ila sputtered. “No one will pay that.” “The right clients will,” Don corrected. “You’re not marketing to broke college students. You need to target established businesses. Here, let me introduce you to some people.” And just like that, Don started connecting Ila with actual paying clients from his network. Within a week, she had three projects lined up at rates she’d never dreamed of charging. “Why are you helping me?” Ila asked one evening as they had dinner together, another routine that had developed naturally.
“Dawn was quiet for a moment, carefully cutting his steak with shaking hands. “Because you’re my wife,” he finally said. And because you’re talented, why wouldn’t I help you? It was such a simple answer, but it made Ila’s heart do a weird little flip. This ugly old man was being nicer to her than anyone had been in years. She started noticing other things, too. Like how Dawn always made sure her favorite foods were stocked in the kitchen. How he’d leave little notes around the house.
Good luck with the Morrison project. Or, “Your design for the cafe was brilliant.” how he never ever made her feel pressured or uncomfortable. And weirdly, he was funny. Like actually hilarious. One night they were watching a cooking show together. Ila had started joining him in the living room after dinner and the chef on TV said something pretentious about deconstructed cuisine. “Deconstructed?” Don rasped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “That’s just a fancy word for I didn’t finish making it.
If I ordered a sandwich and they brought me bread and meat on separate plates, I’d throw it at them. Ila burst out laughing. That’s exactly what it is. Next, they’ll be serving deconstructed water, Don continued on a roll. Just hydrogen and oxygen in separate glasses. Very avantgard. Ila laughed so hard she snorted, which made her laugh even harder. When she finally caught her breath, she looked over at Dawn and caught him watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.
“What?” she asked. “Nothing,” Don said softly. “I just I like hearing you laugh.” Something in Ila’s chest went warm. “Careful,” she warned herself. “Don’t get attached. This is temporary, but it was getting harder to remember that.” 3 weeks into the marriage, Ila realized something terrifying. She was starting to find Dawn attractive. Not physically, obviously. The man still looked like a Halloween decoration, but his personality, his humor, his intelligence, the way he treated her with respect and kindness, that was attractive.
