Page 87 of Dizzy

I’ll need a ride into town. I could walk. It’s not that far, but I’m not sure of the way. No cell phone means no directions.

My eyes are prickling, and I feel bone weary. I don’t want to go to New York City. I want to crawl into bed and have a long cry. I want things to be different. I want to go back to this morning when Sharon hadn’t gleefully popped my stupid, shiny bubble.

Bang. Bang. “Fay-Lee?”

The door’s unlocked. I double-checked that on my way in. If he wants in, nothing’s stopping him.

“Fay-Lee.” This time, it’s an order. I shudder, turning the water off. I grab a towel, wrapping it tight. I don’t want to talk to him naked.

Dizzy busts through the door. Guess he thought I’d locked it.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a shower.” I wipe off the mirror with my hand, avoiding eye contact. Come on, dude. Take a hint.

“What did she say?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I grab another towel and squeeze my hair dry. I’m freezing. My skin’s covered in goose bumps.

He growls in exasperation and reaches for me, grabs a handful of towel and compels me forward with his huge hand on my back.

I jerk and whirl, rip the towel free of his grasp and clutch it to my chest, turning until my back is to the sink.

“No.” I point my finger at him. “Banana.”

He freezes. We’re no more than a foot apart. He dominates the small room, wild hair, clunky black boots, grease-stained coveralls.

His chest is rising and falling as he eyes me warily. He slowly raises his hands, palms up. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

I’m trembling. I fold my arms to try to stop the shaking.

He searches the bathroom until he sees the toilet. He lowers the lid and slowly sits. It’s ridiculous. One broad shoulder brushes the wall, the other is halfway in the tub. Even seated, we’re almost eye-to-eye.

He carefully rests his hands on his thighs. “You’re upset.”

He’s using the same tone of voice as he does when Carson unleashes a wild, breathless jumbled-up story and Dizzy’s trying to figure out what happened.

I nod, curt, struggling to hold it together. Be adult about it.

“Sharon said something that upset you.”

“Are you still in love with her?” It spills out.

“No.”

“Why do you still have all her stuff around then?”

He exhales. “I ain’t got a good reason. I just always had something better to do than redecorate.”

I grit my teeth. I want to ask about the ring, but if I mention it, he’ll know I have it. That’s my ticket out of here.

“Baby, you have to tell me what’s goin’ on in that head of yours.”

“How many house mouses have you had before me?”

“None.”

“But there’ve been lots of other women. Younger women.”

---