Page 10 of Don't Fall

“What are you looking at?” I demand of Mr. Grey Cat. He’s not my cat, hence the really lame not really his name - name, but he’s been coming around ever since I moved in here, and I let him, because, well, sometimes it’s helpful to one’s sanity to not technically be talking to yourself. He doesn’t answer of course, but I still get the sense even he knows I’m lying to myself where Tessa is concerned. Then, because he’s a cat and cats don’t give a shit, he lifts his snooty little nose and turns away, tail slinking along behind his lanky body as he makes his way out onto the patio. I probably won’t see him for a while after he disappears out there. Wherever he lives, and whoever he belongs to, must be close by.

With my last cup of coffee having been donated to the cause for the sake of the greater good this morning, I’m out of reasons to procrastinate. Time to get this day rolling and face the next phase of operation ‘New life and New Michael’ - The new job.

By the time I’m showered and dressed I’m back to looking for ways to waste time. I guess that’s what living alone is. Time. Time I used to be able to fill with taking turns or, simply waiting. I never took into account just how much of my time was taken up through the basic dynamics of coexisting with another human being, and I certainly never expected how empty those moments would turn when alone.

I’m on the verge of heading outside and tracking down Mr. Grey Cat, just to have another living being to talk to, when there’s a knock on the door, followed by a key turning just before the whole thing swings open.

“Sorry!” she calls out, passing me in a hurry. Her hair is soaking wet and her body is wrapped in nothing more than a rose-colored towel that barely reaches beneath her ass. Practically running isn’t helping her parts stay covered either.

Averting my eyes slightly too late, I retract my previous plan to converse with the neighbor’s cat and opt for Tessa instead. She’s already far more interesting than any four-legged fur ball will ever be.

When I find her, she’s hunched over in the most dangerous position imaginable, searching her mountain of bags for something I’m hoping covers her more than that towel does. Well, I’m sort of hoping. Sort of not.

“I’d apologize more thoroughly for busting in on you twice within the last twenty-four hours, but this is partly your fault, so I’m not gonna,” she mutters, digging through a large duffle bag.

“Wait. How is it my fault you keep breaking into my apartment?

She stops what she’s doing just long enough to glare at me. “My apartment. And it’s not breaking in when you have a key.”

I can’t help but chuckle at the insanity of this whole scenario. “First of all, if you’re really

that confused about whether or not you’re breaking in, we can call the cops and ask them. I’m pretty sure that won’t play out well for you though, what with my lease and all. And second, I’m still not clear on how any of this can be blamed on me. As far as I can see, I’m the only real victim in this mess.”

A sage green shirt whips out from the depths of her bag as her hand flies up into the air in some sort of act of victory. It’s short lived however, and she pursues her search for more articles of clothing in the next suitcase over. “Victim, my ass. I’m the homeless one here,” she grumbles on, “and you might have mentioned that all of my possessions were delivered to you when I was here earlier for coffee!”

I shrug. “I figured you already knew that. It’s your stuff.”

She stops, adjusting her towel in a huff. “People really need to stop making assumptions like that! I’m not nearly as well informed as everyone thinks.”

I lean my shoulder into the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest and settling in for the duration of this chat. “I’m starting to learn that about you. What’s up with that? Do you lack a healthy sense of curiosity? Too self-involved to ask a few questions every now and again?”

Her eyes widen and I notice the striking green of her irises has brown flecks near the pupils. I also notice she’s pissed. And alarmingly close to bursting into tears.

“Are you kidding me with this?”

“Shit,” I drop my arms and step into the room, squatting to be at eye level with her. “No. I mean, yes. I’m kidding. I’m sorry.” I run both palms over my face trying to conjure up a clear thought that isn’t in some way tainted by her beautiful eyes or the distracting way more of her skin keeps popping out of that towel. “It’s been a weird night...and morning, for me. For both of us. I’m sure this isn’t easy for you. Making stupid jokes is just my way of making light of it all.”

I start to reach for her shoulders then stop short. I have no business touching this girl. And the last thing I want to do, is freak her out even more than she clearly already is. “What can we do to make this work? For both of us.”

She sits back on her duffle bag, sighing loudly. “Do you really think we could live here together?”

No. Definitely not. As a matter of fact, seeing her in her towel is all the proof I need to be completely certain it’s the worst idea in the history or worst ideas. However, I find myself nodding and saying, “Sure.”

“Have you ever had a girl for a roommate before?” she asks, like someone who thinks it’s important to ask questions, but has nothing really specific they want to know.

“Yep.” She wasn’t technically my roommate, but close enough.

“And your name’s not going to pop up on any sex offender list, right? Because I’m gonna check.” Her pointer finger darts out as a warning as she says it.

“Clean record. Promise.” I hold my hands up, demonstrating my innocence. “Had to pass a background check before my lease was even approved.”

This information does seem to appease her.

Then a second wave of shadows moves in over her face. “There’s something else.”

“Name it.”

“It freaks me out...you staying in my aunt’s room.”

I can see how that might be a bit much, given her current frame of mind after just having lost her. “I can move into this one.” I take in the purple walls, remembering why I chose the other room in the first place. “Provided, I’m allowed to paint.”

“You’re allowed.” She smiles. Briefly. It’s sweet and innocent, combined with her flushed rosy cheeks and fresh, clean skin, there’s no denying she’s a natural beauty. I wonder if she knows. Probably not. She seems unusually unaware of herself.

“So, it’s settled?”

She nods. “Looks like it, Roomie.”

I grin. This is such a bad idea. But she’s such an excellent distraction. And I could really use one of those right now.

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