“Because I just know,” she haughtily answers.
I don’t care who he’s messed with. I don’t care how many girls he’s fucked at the same time. I don’t care. After all, it’s done.
His note meant nothing. I’m convenient; I was the closest thing around.
When I step into the house, I freeze by the entryway. It feels like I’ve been doused in floral perfume, but it doesn’t smell artificial, just organic.
After I left the bar, I went to the beach to clear my head. I wanted to stop thinking about Daniel, the threesome, and knowing he was going to see her message and reply to it.
The game ended about two hours ago. It’s only six, but I didn’t think he’d bring them here or at least not now.
He said he wouldn’t invite women over, but he did; they’re in my house.
I can’t move. I want to, but I can’t.
Taking one step back, I’m halfway in the house and halfway out. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t want to go in either. I don’t want to hear them, but I shouldn’t leave because this is my house.
Making up my mind, I step inside and slam the front door. Each step I take feels heavier than the last, but I somehow find the will to keep going. I wait for the inevitable moan or groan, but I hear nothing.
At least he has the decency to be quiet.
I bite the inside of my cheek, hating myself for letting this get to me. Who cares what he does, who cares that he brought them here, who cares that I?—
Everything comes to an abrupt halt. My thoughts, my legs, the ugly whirl of emotions just stops.
An explosion of yellow.
A variety of yellow flowers with the exception of a few whites scattered here and there litter my kitchen and living room. The last time I saw this many flowers was when Mom passed, but these aren’t those kinds of flowers.
Wait. How did they get here? There must’ve been a mistake.
“Daniel?” I shout. I know he’s here; his car is parked outside. I search around for a little note or card because there must be one; isn’t there usually one? “Daniel! Did you see the…”
My voice dwindles as I finally spot the envelope. The front says,Happy Valentine’s Day. Carefully I take out the card, and my breath catches in my throat.
The front of the card has one smiling piece of toast and it says,I Knead You To Know…
And the inside of the card has two pieces of toast, holding hands. One has what looks like strawberry jelly and the other I think has grape jelly and it reads,You’re the best toast mate ever!On the bottom, he wrote,I’m happy you’re here, Jos!
It’s corny but I’m such a dork because I’m smiling so big, my cheeks start to ache. I’m not sure how long I stand here looking at the card I know he made for me.
He did this for me. He got me flowers. Tons of them. This is insane? Wait?—
Everything comes to an abrupt halt again. Why did he buy me flowers? This is a lot of them. Does he want something? Did he do something? I’ve only ever been given something to make up for something. Mom and Bryson did that a lot—well, Bryson did; Mom just liked to pretend it never happened.
“Daniel?!” I shout again and take the stairs two at a time. It’s safe to say those girls aren’t here. Still, I knock on his bedroom door, but I don’t get an answer. “Daniel, I swear if you don’t open up, I’m going in.”
Still nothing.
“Fine, I’m going in!” I make a show of twisting the knob to give him some time to cover up in case he’s naked or something, and after a few seconds, I open the door.
There’s no indication that anyone but him has been here. The room looks more lived in than the whole house ever has. His stuff takes over every inch of the room—vinyls, cassette tapes, and CDs in one corner, and other random stuff scattered about.
I snap out of it, knowing I’m being nosy and need to find him. I check his bathroom and don’t find him in there either. Then I check every other room, except Mom’s office, and still nothing. He wouldn’t go in there because I told him not to and he promised he wouldn’t. Still, I take a quick peek and see nothing.
I’m back in the living room, about to call him, but stop when I spot someone outside from the corner of my eye. I’m quickly moving in that direction but slow when I hear him sniffle.
“Daniel?”
