Awkward moments
Jackie passed her the mug, touching her fingertips, and Chanel reflexively drew back her hand. "So, how do you like your eggs?" Jackie asked, trying to start a conversation .
"Scrambled," she said lamely. The question had seemed so harmless, yet the oddness of their situation was obvious.
Jackie set the plate before her and flipped the eggs on it. He sat down, and they ate without speaking, except their cutlery clicked. Chanel stared at her plate. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do?
"Do you have plans for today?" Jackie finally broke the silence.
"I thought I might visit John," she said. "But other than that, no." Jackie gave a nod.
"Okay, I'll probably be in meetings most of the day, but I guess you can call me for anything." Chanel managed a smile. "Thanks, Jackie." She replied.
Chanel wasn't sure she felt any differently when he left for work, he seemed more like a businessman than a lover. "How soon," she asked herself, looking at her half-eaten breakfast, "Am I going to live the rest of my life like this?" she muttered.
She stood in the penthouse's giant walk-in closet a few days later, arranging her clothes.Chanel's clothes felt small next to the forest of designer clothes on the racks. You notice in that situation that her being feels very small. I mean, what can you compare it to?
Jackie entered, taking in her half of the closet. "You should probably get some more clothes," Chanel frowned. "I have enough," she replied, feeling defensive. Jackie raised an eyebrow.
"I meant more that fit this lifestyle," he explained. "You'll need them for the parties we'll be required to attend."
"Oh yes, you're right," Chanel said, suddenly turning purple. "I guess I'll need a few more to be added to the clothes you bought for me for the previous occasions." She responded.
"Great. We can go shopping this weekend," Jackie said, his tone still formal.
She sighed again as he exited the bedroom. It felt like a chore, she moaned, like having a servant attend to you. A servant? He's her husband. But she reminded herself to stay calm because she was there because of John.
One evening, Chanel decided to try to create more visual interest in the living room. She dragged some furniture away from the living room's walls, rearranging them for a new look. Jackie interrupted her as she was moving around a chair. "What are you doing?" he asked, his tone puzzled.
"I thought I'd make it cozier," Chanel replied, feeling defensive. Jackie glanced around and then shrugged. "Okay, as long as you don't move that bookshelf. I want it where it is."
Chanel bit her lip, thinking, "I'm sorry." "Got it," she said, her voice tight.
They stood there momentarily, sharing glances without saying a word, and then Jackie coughed. "Wanna watch a film or something?"
She looked at him, shocked. "Really?" "Of course." "Uh... ok." Chanel had never turned down anything he'd asked her for.
"Great." He nodded. It was as close to normalcy as they could get.
They sat together on the couch safely and demarcated. Jackie offered her the remote. "Pick whatever you want," he said. Chanel opened it and picked a romantic comedy. They spent the evening watching it, laughing at the same parts and blushing at the same scenes.
After the movie, they both vacated the living room for their separate rooms without saying a word.
The next day, Chanel decided to cook dinner. They have been eating out since she moved into the house. Chanel isn't very good at cooking, but she figured it might be nice. She found a recipe online and started preparing.
It all turned weird when she burned the garlic, overcooked the pasta, and then spilled tomato sauce on half the kitchen. By the time Jackie came home, the place was a disaster.
"What happened here?" he asked, looking around in amazement.
"I tried to cook," Chanel admitted, her face red with embarrassment. "But it turned out messy. I'm sorry. I know it isn't part of the agreement to make your house messy, but I was hungry." She pleaded.
Jackie chuckled, the sound warm and unexpected. "Well, it's the thought that counts, right?" Chanel managed a small smile. "I guess." She replied softly.
"Let's order takeout," Jackie suggested. "And maybe we can cook next time." Chanel nodded, feeling a bit better. Jackie ordered food, and they ate it in silence.
The following day was a Saturday, so Chanel continued furnishing her guest room. She grabbed some of her sketches, books, and a few plants to beautify her space. Jackie came knocking on her door as she set her things up.
"Need any help?" he asked. Chanel looked around, then nodded. "Sure, if you don't mind." She admitted.
They worked quietly, hung pictures, and put together furniture. The clasp of Chanel's fingers against Jackie's was not as accidental as it had been before, and this time, when she glanced over at him, she didn't jerk her hand away quite so quickly. They looked at each other rather uncomfortably for a moment.
When they finished, Jackie stepped back to look at it. "It looks nice," he commented. "Thanks," Chanel said, feeling a bit more relaxed. "I appreciate your help."
Then, a few days later, Chanel and Jackie were caught in a crowded elevator after one of their functions, with people jamming up against them on all sides. Chanel lost her balance when the elevator stopped suddenly and plopped against him. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around her to steady her, and they shared an awkward look.
"Sorry," Chanel muttered, feeling her cheeks heat up.
"No problem," Jackie replied, his voice a bit strained. The elevator began to move again, and they didn't separate until they reached the floor. As they exited the elevator, Chanel laughed a little. "What's so funny?" Jackie asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Just the situation," Chanel said, shrugging. "It was a funny one." She added.
Jackie chuckled, too. "Yeah, I guess it is." They walked back to the penthouse in comfortable silence.