Page 21 of One for the Road
My brain flashes back to last night at the bar, when we stood in the dark kitchen and DeeDee told me she didn’t think of me as a man ‘like the ones she dates.’
She hits a particularly raw patch of skin, and I hiss again.
She didn’t come here looking for her next boyfriend. She came here looking for a friend, and maybe that means more. Maybe it’s wrong to want anything else. She came here to be safe, and I’ve got to respect that. It’s enough for me.
It has to be.
Focusing on the floor tiles is easier after that. DeeDee finishes up with the cloth and slathers on the Polysporin before telling me I can stand up. I twist around to get a glimpse of my back in the tiny bathroom mirror. In typical Montreal style, everything about this apartment is tiny. The bathroom can barely hold two people at once.
“Damn.” I take in the sight of the bright red scratch stretching almost perfectly parallel to my spine. My skin is shiny from the ointment, making the cut look extra pronounced. “That’s a nasty one.”
“I still can’t believe you fell over like that.” DeeDee snorts as she leaves the bathroom, and I follow after her.
“Hey, you’re the one who startled me!”
She stops in the living room and puts her hands on her hips. “I was minding my own business!”
“Beezneez,” I repeat, mocking her accent.
“Connard.”
I learned pretty quickly after moving to Montreal that that means ‘asshole.’
“How about some breakfast?” I offer. “We’ll call it a truce.”
I expect her to follow up with another joke, but instead she darts her eyes away from me and starts shifting her weight from foot to foot.
“I should probably go.”
Go where?
I stop myself before I say it out loud. It sounds rude, judgemental, like I don’t think she could possibly have any other options, but she reallydoesn’tseem to have any other options.
“I don’t work today,” I tell her. “I’m meeting up with Dylan in a few hours. He’s in town visiting, and I’m sure he’d be happy to see you too. I should probably get some ecommerce stuff done before then, and I have a video call scheduled with one of my sisters, but you can use the TV, or...”
I trail off when I notice she’s wrapped her arms around herself, curling inwards and becoming that smaller version of herself I saw for the first time last night.
“I should go,” she says, that husky voice I know so well sounding cracked and raw and far too quiet. “You’ve done so much.”
“DeeDee.”
She doesn’t answer. I watch as she turns and heads into Paige’s room before coming back out with her jacket and purse.
I try again. “DeeDee, I’m happy to have you here. Really. It’s no big deal. Paige is gone all week, so if you need somewhere to—”
“That’s very nice of you.” She hitches her purse strap up and walks past me to get to the front door, where she starts pulling her boots on. “I have to go, uh, do something with all my stuff. Awkwaaaard.”
She sings the last part out in her usual DeeDee way, but it doesn’t convince me she’s okay. If anything, it does the opposite. The atmosphere in this apartment just plummeted to glacial temperatures, and I don’t know what I did to cause it. I don’t know how to fix it.
“As in all your furniture? Do you need help?”
She gets the zipper of her second boot done up and straightens to face me, a grin that’s not quite right stretched across her face.
“I’ll figure it out. I always do, you know?” She reaches for the door handle, and I fight the urge to place my hand above hers and tell her to stay—beg her to stay if I have to. Whatever happened this morning, the last thing I want is for her to feel like she’s not welcome.
“Thank you, Zach.” It’s hardly more than a whisper, and then she’s gone.
I stand there, the skin of my back smarting as my chest expands and contracts with my breaths, and I don’t move for a long time after the door clicks shut.
