A huff of breath under my door shakes me out of my thoughts, and I’m momentarily grateful for the dog on the other side of it. I place a shaking hand on the door knob, psyching myself up to turn it, heaving in deep breaths. Iknow he was friendly before, but I didn’t like the way he jumped up at me. Not one bit.
A loud whistle breaks the silence, and after a quick shuffle, I hear the tip-tapping of paws against the wood floor running away from my door.
Silence again.
I head to the kitchen, quickly fill up my water bottle, and when I tiptoe to the front door, the house is still quiet. No roommate in sight. No dog, either. I let out a relieved breath and head to the door, where I find another note on the table.
I’ll be away with Luther until Wednesday. Sorry we haven’t had the chance to meet yet. Please help yourself to whatever you need.
-A.M.
All right. Guess I have this glorious house to myself for a few days. I can’t say I’m terribly mad about that.
SEVEN
let me drink this shitty cup of coffee alone, please
Arthur
I’ve technically had a roommate for several days, and I have yet to meet her. Hell, I don’t even know her first name yet because they’ve already nicknamed her. According to Gear, who instantly developed a massive crush on the new occupational therapist they’ve been calling Whinny, she is the prettiest woman she’s ever seen. As Mouse so aptly put it, “That says a lot, considering we work for Maeve freaking Howard-James, a whole-ass movie star!”
I wouldn’t know, since I haven’t seen the new-hire, and while Maeve is objectively beautiful, she has nothing on the woman I met a week ago at Beau’s Bar.
Alice shouldn’t still be in my head, and I definitely shouldn’t be wondering if I’ll see her again, given the way I left her last time, too drunk to even stand. I can’t get involved with people like that. Not again.
So as I open the heavy door for my scheduled Wednesday night cup of coffee after my weekly NA meeting, I vow not to think about heranymore. Out of sight, out of mind. I have way too much other shit to worry about. A woman is nowhere even close to making it onto the list of priorities I need to focus on.
Turns out I’ve never broken a vow so fast, because before the door even shuts behind me, I’m taking in the soft, straight hair cascading down her back as she laughs at something Beau said.
Fuck.
I contemplate turning around and leaving. I don’t need to come here every Wednesday, after all. It’s fine if I do something else. Something outside of my schedule. But that’s a fucking lie. I thrive on this routine. On this predictability I’ve created for myself.
Yet, I can’t force myself to walk away from the certain pit of disappointment I’m about to fall into as I walk toward the woman I haven’t stopped thinking about. It’s been a week of remembering her golden eyes, that unfamiliar lightness filling my chest, and scolding myself for thinking about someone clearly so wrong for me.
I’m an addict.
While alcohol was never how I chose to escape reality, I can’t be with someone who lets themselves get so drunk they practically pass out on a bathroom floor.
As I approach the bar, Beau’s eyes grow serious as they meet mine. He’s a pretty tough nut to crack until he likes you, and judging by the laughter, it seems Alice has won him over.
“Be right back with your coffee, Art.” My friend turns his back to us, and the gilded gaze I may never forget burns into me as Alice’s hair whips around her shoulder.
I should tell Beau not to bother. I shouldn’t stay, and that’s made clear when I take in her slightly hazy eyes and the half-empty cocktail glass her fingers are wrappedaround. I don’t bother sitting, opting instead to rest a hand on the bar.
“I didn’t think I’d see you back here, considering a week ago I had to carry you out.” I keep my voice low, but I may as well have yelled at her with how quickly her head rears back and the smile on her face falls.
Straightening her smile, she clears her throat. “Yeah, I came back here to thank you for helping me. That was really kind of you, and I’m sorry for what happened. I had no idea?—”
“Right. Okay. Well, you’ve apologized, so…” My eyes flick to the door, and her eyes fill with tears. I should feel bad, but self-preservation has kicked in, and I know it’d be too easy to fall back into conversation with her if I chose to ignore the blatant red flag waving in front of me. So I won’t.
“Right. Well, thank you again, Arthur.” She stands, gingerly taking her purse in both of her shaking hands. “Have a nice life.”
With her head held high, she walks out of the bar and out of my life.
When Beau returns, I’m still standing there, my insides fuming with anger, betrayal and regret, which makes no sense because I know I did the right thing. I can’t befriend someone like that.
A cup of coffee appears in my peripheral. “Where did Alice go?” Beau asks, looking around.
