Page 52 of Catch Me
Logically, I shouldn’t have invited him to stay here. There were times when I made offers without really thinking about it. I liked to be nice, and I hated to think that nice people got burned a lot, but ithad happened a few times. I had to set boundaries for myself. It wasn’t like I’d stick to them, but whatever.
I sat on the front steps and pulled out a cigarette. The flick of the lighter was a sound that I’d always enjoyed. It was the first step to making unhealthy decisions. Or lighting candles. No in-between.
My eyes closed when I took my first drag. The rest of the cigarette never felt the same as that initial hit. By the end, I’d be tired of the taste and just want to be done, but this part made me feel calm for a second.
I blew out the smoke, then looked over my shoulder when I heard the door open. Even though I’d wanted to talk to Roman, now that he was here, I felt the opposite. The peaceful moment was shattered and this just tasted like tobacco.
To my surprise and annoyance, he sat on the step beside me. As I took another drag of the cigarette, I glanced at him. He had his elbows on his knees, and his chin rested on his knuckles. I picked up the pack and set it on his thigh along with the lighter.
When it clicked, I let out a breath. “I like that sound. My brain associates it with my grandpa. My parents would drop me off there when they went to work, and he’d let me play outside for most of the day. I’d be sunburned and smell like death by the end of it, but I liked when they left me there because he’d tell me all these stories. I’m pretty sure most of them were bullshit.”
I laughed and hit the cigarette again. After flicking the ash off, I watched the gentle breeze blow it away. It wasn’t too cold tonight, but the temperature would start to drop more. That meant no more days in the water with Tessa. I might do it anyway, but I didn’t want her to get sick.
“Why does the lighter remind you of your grandpa?” Roman asked.
I blinked, then glanced at him again. He was staring ahead with an unreadable expression. He tucked the cigarette between his lips and inhaled, then turned to look at me.
“He smoked a lot,” I explained. “When I was playing outside, he’d sit on the porch and I’d hear that lighter over and over. Eventually, I told him it wasn’t good for him and I didn’t want him to die. He made me a deal that he’d only have one during every story he told me. When he realized I stopped asking for stories, he decided that cigarettes were banned during story time, which made me askfor more of them. I still heard the lighter when I was playing, but not while he told me stories.”
I looked down at my hand and wondered if that was why I kept these around for bad days. Thinking about it now, the smell brought me back to afternoons with my grandpa, when the days were always good.
“What happened to him?”
“He got old and died.”
“Is that all?”
I kicked my feet out and rolled my ankles. “They went to drop me off one day, and when we walked in, he was on the ground in the living room. Stroke.”
“Damn. That’s shitty.”
“It is,” I agreed. After a second, I chuckled.
“What?”
“Just your response.”
“Sorry. Was it rude?”
“No. Most people say they’re sorry or that he’s in a better place, and I don’t really give a shit. It’s been fifteen years, and I’m not grieving. It was the same when my mom died. Condolences, condolences. They’re nice words, but it’s a broken record, and at a certain point, I started to resent hearing them.”
“How old were you?”
I turned my body to face him and angled my legs so they wouldn’t touch him. He matched my position and held my gaze. His expression seemed more open than usual. I would’ve tried to decipher it, but I saw his suitcase and backpack on the patio.
“Are you leaving?” I asked.
He looked at his lap, then back at me. “I’m gonna find a hotel.”
“Ah.”
It was what I’d been considering before he came out. I should just wave him off and wish him luck on the project. Now, though, he was being civil. More than civil. We were having an actual conversation and he hadn’t shut it down like he always did. I wondered what was different.
Rolling my lip between my teeth, I looked at the bags again. “Can you stay like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“This Roman that’s in front of me. I’m asking if you’re capable of controlling the...less desirable part of you.”
