Page 62 of Doubts of the Egoist
Kuon hummed, then tapped his own ear. “Is this even legal?”
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. They arrived like this from Serbia.” Rick ruffled his hair, glanced down at himself, and sniffed his sweat-drenched T-shirt, obviously wondering how close he could get to Kuon without offending his senses. A boyish grin lit up his face as he took a tentative step closer, the two Doberman puppies following in his wake. The corners of his mouth dropped when his traveling gaze stumbled upon Kuon’s feet. “Where’re your shoes? What are you doing here at this hour? What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay. I’m just… I crashed the car and had to walk a bit. Someone gave me a ride, so I’m fine.” Kuon tried to sound convincing but couldn’t find the right words.Fucking Tobias. Why did he bring me here?His head throbbed, making it hard to come up with a convincing story. He rubbed his temples with icy fingers and said, “I don’t have any money on me. Can you call me a cab, please?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Rick’s incredulous voice carried a thunder of rising anger. Without hesitation, he pointed at the building. “Upstairs. Now.”
Kuon glanced at the road behind him, then took a painfulfirst step toward the building. Rick had already seen him, so there was no reason to be difficult, especially since he needed help.
The rumble ofthe lock closing stirred memories and sent Kuon’s gaze darting around. The familiar objects he’d touched countless times but never really seen offered a welcome distraction. His hand glided along the plain ivory wall, caressed the top of the coffee-colored padded stool.
“Hmm, everything is just as I imagined,” Kuon croaked to dispel the uncomfortable silence but cringed at the throaty sound of his voice.
Circling around his legs, the puppies poked Kuon’s battered feet with wet noses, begging for attention. Trying to escape their unwanted curiosity, Kuon shifted from foot to foot, lifting his toes.
“Come on, guys, give Kuon some space.” Rick shooed the puppies away, then faced his unexpected guest, looking him over in the harsh light. His expression shifted from astonishment to anger, then to something like pity and remorse.
Kuon scowled. “I’m fine, Rick, and I won’t bother you for long. I just need to make a phone call and grab a few things.”
Silence engulfed the room, broken only by the restless clacking of small claws on the wooden floor. Kuon hated it when people pitied him. His nails stabbed into his palms, and his teeth gnashed.I should never have come.
As if reading his mind, Rick forced his expression to neutrality. “I’ll make coffee and something to eat; you go take a shower. We’ll talk later.”
Kuon scratched behind his ear, searching for words to decline the offer, but Rick spoke before he could. “Didn’t you come here because you trust me? Then rely on me a little more, okay?”
Kuon bit his lip, torn. Rick would never believe that his being here was a coincidence. Any denial at this point would seem like a lie, a game, or an insult. Less than anything, he wanted Rick to think he was playing him. Refusing his help wouldn’t look any better.
I won’t stay for long. Shower, eat, change, and go.Determined to do so, he managed a quick nod. “Thank you, Rick, also for not asking anything. I appreciate it.”
Guided by muscle memory, Kuon stumbled toward the bathroom but froze halfway. The pesky portiere that separated the hallway from the living area blocked his way. He pulled it aside to reveal the familiar yet foreign sight.
Since he’d left, Rick had acquired new items and gotten rid of some old ones. A black beanbag chair nestled against the full-wall window overlooking the pale, misty night. Newspapers were scattered on a low coffee table nearby. A tall pole lamp with a zebra-print shade—which didn’t match anything else in the room—towered behind it, surrounded by dumbbells and barbell plates. Across the room, a red ceramic coffee mug and a black protein shaker sat unwashed on the brown kitchen counter. Kuon’s attention drifted to the center of the room where, instead of a sofa, a hammock hung from the ceiling next to a punching bag. In the far corner of the living room, next to Rick’s bedroom, was a huge black dog cage. One puppy scratched at the bedroom door; the other lapped water from a bowl.
Kuon grimaced. The changes in Rick’s place made it obvious he wasn’t expecting visitors. It hadn’t even beena month since Kuon left, but the apartment had already turned into the primeval cave of someone disinterested in any relationship. A gnawing feeling settled in his stomach.
I shouldn’t be here.Guilt exacerbated his emotional hemorrhage.
He opened his mouth, then quickly shut it, realizing that any attempt to leave at this point would be taken as a grave insult. Resigned, he turned on a healthy heel and limped into the bathroom.
The dark room welcomed him with silence, warm humidity, and the soothing scent of lavender soap. He drew a deep breath, and the tension from forced socialization dissolved into the darkness as he exhaled. He needed some time alone to come up with a proper explanation for his presence. His heavy eyelids closed, plunging him into absolute darkness. Seeking comfort in the warmth and solitude, he pressed his back against the door. His head buzzed, feet throbbed, and a wave of fatigue washed over him, filling his limbs with lead. He didn’t want to move.
I’ll rest for a minute,he told himself, wishing that time would stop or the world would disappear.Just for a minute.
“Kuon?” Rick’s voice broke through the sphere of his emotional lethargy. A knock on the door rattled his shoulder blades, sending unpleasant vibrations down his nerves. “You okay?”
Kuon didn’t want to answer. In his warm cocoon, there was no room for thoughts about Yugo, Mio, or Rick; he was more than satisfied with that. There was only healing silence and darkness, nothing else. But the knocking repeated, demanding attention.
He struggled to open his eyes. His gaze drifted from one object to another as his eyes rolled back, making him nauseous. He groaned, feeling as if mere seconds had passed, but since Rick grew impatient, it had likely been minutes.
“I’m fine,” Kuon croaked, summoning all his strength to flip the switch. White, clinical light flared. He shrunk back and shielded his eyes with his forearm. A joint popped in his elbow, making him feel old, rusty, and ready for the junkyard.
After the sleepless marathon, his body threatened to shut down at any moment. The constant shift between cold and warm must have catalyzed his crushing exhaustion. The thought was of little consolation as he couldn’t shake himself free from this sinking stupor.
Peeling his eyelids open felt like an accomplishment. He had to lever himself away from the door with his elbow. A stabbing pain shot through his foot as he stumbled to the sink, leaving bloody smudges in his wake.
He intended to tend to his cuts, but lost his focus. A tall glass holding a toothbrush and razor sat on an open shelf of the medicine cabinet, next to shaving cream, a copper comb, and soap. Hanging beside them was a single hand towel. All of Kuon’s belongings had disappeared as if Rick was trying to rid this place of all reminders of his former roommate.
Yet here I am again, like a plague. Kuon turned on the water and held his hands under the stream. Pleasant warmth seeped in, inviting him to linger and let the water wash away his suffocating guilt.
