Page 63 of The Vacancy In Room 10

He’s annoyed with me, but I’m right. “Can we just—” he starts to say.

“So you want to whisk me off because you think an ‘I’m sorry’ and an espresso martini at the Casablanca erases the hell I’ve been through...for months. Did you see where I live? I walked in on Gordon in 104 eating a plate of linguini on the toilet this morning and found a collection of mannequin heads in an empty apartment closet. I don’t even technically get paid. I exist. That’s it. Because of you, so are you actually kidding me right now?”

“That’s not what this... Look, it’s not like that. I just had time to really think through how wrong I was...” he starts to say, and I cut him off.

“Well, what happened? ’Cause last I heard you have an actual human baby popping out of Kimmy’s very young pristine vagina and into the world pretty soon, so...” I see his face fall, and he picks the edges off his paper napkin and flicks them mindlessly onto the floor.

“She’s been seeing someone—a barista at Starbucks. Named Asher,” he says, and I can’t help it. I spit my sip of soda back into the cup and belly laugh at this. How could I not? It’s not just the karma, it’s the whole visual.

“Well, that tracks. You’re like twice her age.”

“No, I’m not,” he says.

“Very close. And the weird goatee thing you’re sporting is less snowboarder dude that you’re probably going for and more middle-aged pedophile.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says.

“I don’t. So is Asher gonna raise your baby, too? What the hell, Reid?” I say, waving over the table attendant and ordering a sake, ’cause I feel like I’m gonna need it.

“Turns out it’s...” He stops, looking for the words.

“Oooh,” I say. “Not yours. I see.”

We are both quiet for a few minutes. My sake comes, and I slide it across the table to him. He needs it more. He takes it.

“I had a lot of time to think, and I should have supported your handyman company,” he says.

“Um, it was called Handy Ma’am, thank you very much.”

He doesn’t really hear me; he’s still trying to make his point. “And I know... I am very aware that, like, having a family was all you wanted—all you were focusing on, and I wasn’t, but I mean we tried and I’m sorry it wasn’t happening, and that was stressful, and I don’t know. It was just a lot, and I fucked up, okay? I seriously, royally fucked it all up.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly.

“Yeah,” he says, too, and sips his sake.

“Well, I appreciate your apology, and I should probably get back,” I say, eating one last egg roll because I didn’t have to pay for it, then piling my napkin on my plate and sliding my chair back.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, a crumpled look on his face.

“I have things to do,” I say.

“Okay,” he says, hanging his head.

My heart lurches, and I hate myself for going back on all the emotional progress I made thirty minutes ago. “Reid, would you be sorry, would you even be here, if she hadn’t left? I mean, what do you really expect? You think I’m that pathetic?” I ask, and I mean, I sort of am. A month ago, this would have been a very different conversation.

“I know you won’t believe me. I understand that. I know what you’re gonna say...that it’s convenient timing that I figured it out all now. That’s exactly what you’ll say next, because I know you better than anyone... Fine, yes, it sucks that it took going through this to realize what a mistake I made. That’s the truth.” He tries to take my hand, but I pull it away.

He continues, “I really, really fucked it all up, and I wish you knew how much I—How truly sorry I am.”

I turn away from him and look out the window. A couple exits their car, a guy is hunched over his phone at the bus stop. A baby in a stroller screams as a mother tries to console it. Yep. The world goes on whether or not Reid is begging for forgiveness over greasy sweet-and-sour pork at the Super Jumbo China Buffet or banging Kimmy on my custom Arhaus couch. Who woulda thought?

I can’t take in what he’s saying. I have so many more important things to think about, but when I think about the safety of my life away from The Sycamores, of the normalcy and security and distance, I want to leave with him right this minute and forgive him and never go back to the horror show my life has become. I don’t respond, though. I keep my eyes on the couple walking up to the front automatic doors and then look down at my lap. I don’t know what to say. I stand to go, and he counters me.

“I don’t expect you to say anything. Please, just at least think about it,” he says, and then he softly kisses my cheeks and looks in my eyes. “Just say you’ll think about it?”

“Gotta go,” I say, pulling away from him and walking quickly out the front door.

But I do think about it.

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