Page 23 of Don't Fall

“Do you have a friend or two I should be prepping myself for?” I mean, he must have friends. He can’t just exist in a vacuum.

Lane seems to need an unusual amount of time to think about this. Or maybe he’s just so focused on making my bagel his brain can’t handle anything else. I don’t know, either way, it’s not until after he slides a plate in my direction that he casually shrugs and says, “I’m not expecting much company these days.”

“Why not?” Time to take a bite and let him do some talking for a while.

He doesn’t seem too keen on doing that though. “Mostly because no one really knows I’m here.”

“Huh?” Now that big bite doesn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

“You ever have shit go so completely wrong, you just need a break? A moment to step back from your life and examine your choices, figure out where you got off track?”

I nod, still chewing. Truth is, I have zero idea. Don’t get me wrong. Shits gone all wrong for me plenty of times, but I’ve never actually felt as though I had any control over it, so spending more time focusing on it, always seemed more detrimental than helpful. Usually my approach is just to plow through, keep moving forward and hope to God there’s another side.

“Well, that’s where I’m at. My present sort of sucks balls, so I didn’t want any of my past coming along while I figure out my future.” He brushes the crumbs from his fingers and clears his plate. “Better hurry up and finish that or you’re going to be late.”

He doesn’t really know that. Just his way of ending the conversation. And I can accept that. For now. Sooner or later though, I’m going to want to know more about this past. In the meantime, I’ll just be working on not taking his ‘the present sucks balls’ comment too personally. Just because my present sucks a little less balls now that he’s in it.

Lane

The life of isolation and contemplation I’d envisioned for myself when I took this random job and chose this random apartment, really isn’t working out as planned. Mostly, because of me. Because I invited a girl to move in with me. And then I continued to pursue conversations with her. And then, I took on feeding her. Which now, has led to also feeding her friends.

Maybe I’m not cut out for isolation.

On the other hand, sitting in my room with the door shut pretending to be busy while I desperately wait for Tessa to finish up and leave is suiting me just fine. Provided I don’t let my mind wander. It inevitably takes off in the same direction every chance it gets. Her. And the things it conjures up upon arrival are beyond anything I’m equipped to process right now. And I’m the fucking psychologist.

So, I sit here. Counting the squares on the checkered curtains. It’s an endless, almost infuriating task as I lose count over and over again, but at least it’s safe. Temporarily. Until I get too pissed to keep counting, and start cursing the person responsible for placing this pattern in my line of vision to begin with. Her. And then, all my troubles will be for naught.

But, I’m not thinking about that.

I’m counting squares.

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