Page 36 of The Vacancy In Room 10

“Who’s the fat one, huh, huh?” Jackie leans over and pinches the flesh under Crystal’s chin.

“I’m pregnant, you asshole,” Crystal yells and swats at Jackie with a pool noodle she picked up from the ground. Rosa is snorting and slapping her knee.

Just then, I see Callum slip out the door of the front office and skirt around the side of the building, then waltz into the barbecue like nothing in the world is the matter. I knew he was in there. What the hell? He doesn’t answer the door or my text and then sneaks out? Does he have a thing with Cass? Oh, my God, that has to be it. He was “busy” apparently.

Well, now that I know his little secret, maybe he’ll be more inclined to help me and give me some more information about this Mira Medford... I watch him try to act casual as he inserts himself into a circle of people chatting. He’s really bad at it, though. He seems obviously nervous and awkward. He pats Barry on the back, and someone hands him a beer. He looks around, side to side, and kind of rocks on his heels a bit.

Jesus, Callum. it’s just sex. You didn’t rob a bank. Calm down, I think as he notices me out of the corner of his eye and gives a funny little nod of recognition in my direction.

By this point, Crystal and Jackie are pinching each other’s guts and hurling insults and one another, and Rosa is flicking playing cards at them, telling them to grow up. I write my number on a square of paper towel and hand it to Rosa.

“If you think of anything—like...just, anything you recall about Henry, especially the last few weeks, call me...if you don’t mind.”

Rosa stops flicking cards and takes my number. “Yeah. Of course,” she says. “I really am so sorry.”

“Thanks,” I say, and head across the pool deck to where Callum stands. I stand next to him and butt into the conversation.

David, with all the cats, sits in a motorized scooter with a cat in the handlebar basket and picks at a paper plate of ribs balanced on his knee. Babs is telling an animated story about meeting Don Henley once at an airport, from what I can gather, but pauses to wink when she sees me.

“Oh, Anna!” Barry says, rushing to pick up a Styrofoam cup of punch from a foldout table next to the grill. “Here. Here ya go. Does everyone—has everyone met Anna?” he says eagerly.

“No, thanks,” I say, holding my hand out to reject the punch. “I just wondered if you wanted your bag,” I say to Callum, and I see his neck redden around the collar.

Barry and David look to Callum and then back to me like there might be a scandal about to be revealed.

“I think you left it by the mailbox, so I grabbed it for safekeeping,” I say, and they all seem to accept this, and Babs continues her story.

“Oh, thank you,” he says and excuses himself from the group.

“I’ll get it,” I say, and he starts to follow me to the stairs before we both notice a handful of people staring in our direction.

“I’ll just wait here.” He smiles bashfully.

When I retrieve his bag and hand it back, I say, “So, what’s going on in that office?” and he looks, for a moment, like he’ll pass out. I don’t really care if he likes me, though. I just need to get the information I want from him without wasting anymore time.

“What?” is all he says, but his face betrays him as the blood drains from it.

“I saw you leave the office. I knocked earlier, texted. I mean it’s none of my business about...whatever you got going on.”

“Oh, God. No.” He stops me quickly. “That’s—No. Opposite. It’s the opposite of what you’re thinking,” he says, relaxing a little.

“Opposite,” I ask.

“Cass and... No. She was having...a meltdown, is all. She has this ex. He just walked out on her—I guess in a pretty epic breakup—like it could be a reality show bad. That’s why she had to move here. After years together, he just—” He makes a poof gesture with his hands. “And she tends to sort of lose it every now and then. I was... I just stopped by to get a package, and she was... I don’t even know, like maybe suicidal, so I... Oh. God. I’m sorry.” He cups his hand over his mouth, and his eyes flick back and forth. “I...”

“No, it’s okay,” I say. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I’m glad someone was there for her. You just seemed...nervous when you came out, so I assumed. Sorry.”

“Oh. Well...yeah. It was just a lot to take in. Everything is...a lot lately,” he says, and I nod in agreement. “I’m just...really tired,” he says, and I have this fierce desire to hug him—hold him and tell him we’ll both be okay just for the momentary comfort of it—to smell the trace of cologne on his skin and feel his arms around my back. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. For a brief moment, I almost open my arms and pull him into me, but I don’t. Of course I don’t. What am I even thinking?

“So she had her heart broken,” I say, knowing both of us can understand in a deep way—a more profound way than she’ll ever know. He sighs, nods, and we look at each other. I decide in that moment not to ask him about the schoolgirl. I’ll find her myself.

“Well, good night,” I say, and I think he looks at me with a longing in his eyes, too, but I can’t be sure. And it’s probably disgusting that I could even feel this hunger for someone, but loneliness does funny things, and loss coupled with betrayal turns that into something hollow and desperate and... indescribable.

“’Night,” he says, and walks away, back to the circle where Babs is still flailing her arms and talking away, and he sort of hugs himself and looks very small and impossibly sad, somehow.

At the top of the stairs, before I go inside, I see Cass come out of the office. She looks like a complete mess. Her face is red and swollen, and I can see that even from here. She walks with slumped shoulders over to the drinks cooler, pulls out a beer, and sits in a folding chair away from the group like a wounded animal. I guess Callum was telling the truth. I know what sorrow and fear mixed together look like, and that’s exactly what her face reads.

Inside, I sit on the floor next to the messy piles of stretched canvas paintings and paper drawings. I close my eyes and absorb the sound of a few of the residents singing along to a Steely Dan song and the kids’ laughter and the homey smells of food cooking, and I don’t know whether to scream until my lungs are bruised and raw or if I’m comforted by it all for just a moment—for the life that goes on even though it feels like the world has truly ended.

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