“Then I’ll stay until you’re ready to go to bed.”
“Wilder Bell.” I squint down at her, unsure why she’s using the same tone normally reserved for when I cause problems. “You don’t need to babysit me. You’re twenty-three years old. You should get to live your own life. Go to your party.”
I frown, and she pushes at my shoulder, turning me toward the door.
“Go. I’m going to take a bubble bath and relax anyway.”
I hesitate. “You’re sure?”
“Of course, I am. Now, get out of here.”
I grab my leather jacket from where I draped it over the back of the recliner, and shrug it on.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Still don’t need babysitting,” Mom replies.
I smile and plant a quick kiss on her forehead. “All right. Point taken.”
I grab my keys, and when I’m almost out the door, Mom calls for me again. I look back, and she’s at the entrance to the hallway that leads back to her bedroom.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you again. For everything.”
“Right back at you.”
Lennox lives in an apartment just off the highway. It’s not the nicest neighborhood, and I’m a little shocked that she lives here. I hope she doesn’t live here alone, and that Kalli doesn’t visit often. The whole idea of her in this place makes me uneasy.
She lives on the top floor of a three-story building that has definitely seen better days. The stairs creak loudly, and the paint is so chipped that it’s hard to tell what color the building is supposed to be. When I reach her door, I can hear the rumble of noise inside, and I take a deep breath.
There’s every possibility that Kalli won’t be happy seeing me here. I promise myself that this is it. I’ll chase after her tonight, but if she doesn’t give me some indication that she’s as into this as I am, I’ll let it be.
Not too long ago I was on the receiving end of an unwanted pursuit by Bridget. Or hell, maybe it’s not fair to say unwanted. We dated for six months after all. And we were friends long before that.
I should have listened when Rook said not to get involved with her. We were good friends, and I knew she could be a little crazy when it came to guys, but she was never like that with me. She was cool and comfortable and a blast to be around. I thought maybe it would be different with us. We knew each other. We were familiar. And she was exactly what I wanted when the rest of my life was in upheaval and nothing felt familiar or comfortable or right.
She wouldn’t go all clingy with me. There wouldn’t be any need. We trusted each other. Or so I thought.
We had one good month, and then shit started to go sour. She couldn’t get past all the time I now have to spend on work and class and homework. Most of the time, she seemed to think I was lying. We had two just okay months followed by three miserable ones. All because I didn’t know how to end it. I kept thinking I could get the old Bridget back. That eventually she would settle down and realize she didn’t have to spend every moment of the day with me, and she didn’t have to hate every single girl I talked to, and she didn’t have to be the center of my every waking thought.
Eight months ago, I finally pulled my head out of my ass and ended it. And every time I hung out with our group of friends since (Bridget included), I alternated between feeling guilty for how hurt she was and pissed that she’d had to be so different just because we were sleeping together. Then there was the annoyance at her continued bouts of clinginess and jealousy despite our break-up. And it all finally gave way to exhaustion because I couldn’t even relax with my friends anymore.
These days it seemed like I couldn’t relax anywhere. There were too many things to do, to take care of. Too many things to be that took work and perseverance and effort.
That night I’d seen Kalli down on Sixth Street, I’d been faking my way through a night out with friends that wasn’t the least bit fun. That’s why I thought Kalli was a hallucination. I’d been standing there on the street while my friends decided which bar to hit up next with Bridget inching closer to my side when Kalli had caught my eye after days of being on my mind. And then she wasn’t just my mental sanctuary, but physical too.
She’d cleared my head of everything else with her mystery. She just wiped it all clean. And then she filled up all that empty space with thoughts of her, memories, possibilities.
Shit. I shake my head, realizing that I’m still standing on Lennox’s porch, and I haven’t even knocked yet. I rectify that, and then stand with my hands in my jacket pockets while I wait for someone to answer the door. It must be too loud because no one answers, and I have to knock again.
I’m trying to decide whether it’s weird to just walk inside or if I should give up and leave when the door is ripped backward, revealing Lennox on the other side. Her hair has been dyed a vivid scarlet since I saw her, and she clings to the door like she might not be able to stay standing without it.
“You came!”
I smile in response, not only to be polite, but because she’s obviously drunk. A happy drunk too, if the way she topples into me for a hug is any indication.
“I’m so glad,” she continues. “Kalli is being all anti-social, and no matter how many times I threaten her, she won’t loosen up.”
She pulls me over the threshold as I ask, “So you want me to threaten her?”
“I want you to dazzle her into having a good time.”
“Dazzle? How much have you had to drink?”
She waves a hand, gesturing toward my face. “Come on. You’re a dazzler. With those eyes and that hair. You have distinct dazzability.”
“I’m going to guess the answer to my question is ‘too much.’”
“You say too much. I say just enough.”
She leads me out of the entry way into the living room, and I barely keep my jaw from dropping. The outside of her apartment might be less than impressive, but the inside … it’s incredible. Every inch of space is packed with interesting furniture and artwork and unusual decorations.
She has a mural painted along one wall that at first glance looks like a sort of abstract cityscape, but when I look again I can see that what appears as buildings are also people. Different shapes and sizes, shadowed so that they’re more silhouettes than realistic portrayals. Even though they’re mostly dark, there’s a surprising amount of emotion painted into them. Their eyes are lit up like building windows, and through that single detail I can see that some figures are sad, some angry, some afraid. I stare at the painted wall for a long time, trying to figure out exactly how the artist accomplished so much with so little.