See? I was loved. I wasn’t lonely. I typed replies, hearts and fireworks and kisses.
All the world was celebrating. Almost all the world. I messaged Aunt Em, too, even though it was only dinnertime in Kansas. The ball drop in Times Square was still hours away, but there was always the cooking channel. I left it on for company, for comfort, and picked up Anne Lamott again.
But reading couldn’t hold my attention any longer.
Restless, I opened my laptop, resisting the urge to check my email, to search for Gray or check the bestsellers rank of his stupid book. That was over. We were over. I was finally over him. I had better things to do. Like working on the assignment for my Structure in Fiction and Poetry class. At least it was something new.
I clicked on the file. I’d managed about three hundred words, waiting up for Toni, when a noise from downstairs penetrated the apartment. Raised voices. A scuffle. A grunt.
“Get your fucking hands off me!”
My heart quickened in alarm. I shoved my feet hastily into boots. Leaving the chain on, I inched open the door to Reeti’s apartment.
“Easy, mate.” That was Tim’s voice.
I slid open the chain. Ventured into the hall. Peered over therailing in time to see the man with Tim shove him away and take a swing at his head. I squeaked. They grappled, crashing into a wall.
“Hey!” I yelled. They glanced up. “Um. Hi.”
“It’s all right,” Tim said.
The guy with Tim scowled. “Who are you?”
I eased down a step. “I’m Dee.”
He squinted. “Oh, the new bird.”
“Dee, Charles Lynch,” Tim said stiffly. “Charles, my upstairs neighbor.”
“Nice boots,” Charles said. “Big bum.”
“Shut up.” Tim steered him into the apartment. “Sorry,” he said over his shoulder.
I followed him cautiously through the open door. “I’ve heard worse.” He supported Charles toward the couch. “Can I do anything?”
Charles swiveled his head. “You’re American.”
“Um. Yes?”
“Thash not... You’re not his usual type. Big change from Laura.” His hands curved in front of his chest, sculpting the air. “Big,bigchange.”
“Put a sock in it, Charles.”
“Sorry.” He smiled and then lurched in my direction. “Whoops.”
I steadied him. “It’s all right,” I said, the way Tim had, even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t.
He breathed gin fumes in my face. “I think I’m gonna be sick,” he confided.
“Right,” Tim said, tight, controlled. “This way, then.”
He manhandled him down the hall. I listened as a door opened and closed.
I wasn’t helping. I should go.
I went into the kitchen and put the kettle on.
—
