“You have to! I got here first, and there’s no way I’m going to stay here under the same roof as you.”
He pointed at the window. “Have you seen how hard it’s coming down out there?”
As if to strengthen his argument, the rain started pounding even harder, and lightning brightened the room. His clothing was soaked, and there was a puddle forming at his feet. His hair was stuck to his head, and he had to push it out of his face. A part of me softened, seeing him shivering there, but I remained firm. He didn’t deserve anything more than that.
“You think I care about that? You can sleep in your car. I’m assuming you brought it with you?”
Through his dark lashes, his eyes were icy as he clenched his jaw. Without a word, he turned toward the door. I smiled, thinking I’d gotten what I wanted, but instead, he picked up his suitcases andheaded toward the stairs. I had to stand back to keep from being run down, and I turned to him, my jaw hitting the floor.
“This is a hijacking, Trey! This house is already occupied! By me!”
He replied sarcastically, “Occupied! You mean hijacked! I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but I have a key. Given to me by Scott, for your information.” He lifted his hands. A tiny metal key ring hung from one of his fingers. “Scott, maybe you’ve heard of him, is the owner, and in case you forgot, he’s my friend, too.” He continued upstairs and, when he got there, shouted over his shoulder, “Don’t get all excited. You being here is the last thing I wanted, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, at least we agree on something. But since I got here first…”
With a snort, he shot back, “I’m not going anywhere, but feel free to kick and scream all you want. Just try to keep it at a reasonable volume. I’m tired and I need some sleep.”
At that, he slammed the door and vanished, muttering curses and probably even worse. I did the same on my way to my bedroom before getting into bed. Then, realizing I’d let him off easy, I got up, opened the door, and slammed it shut a second time.
That was more like it.
Still gripping the knob, I leaned my forehead against the wood and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to think. If I did, this craziness would make me lose my mind.
I got back in bed and massaged my temples. And I felt my forehead, just in case I did have a fever, but it was cool.
I couldn’t believe this was really happening.
I woke, hoping the night before had just been a dream. But the sounds coming from the ground floor dispelled my illusions like a needle popping a balloon.
I grunted and got out of bed with determination. I needed answers: how, why, for how long… The problem was, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Trey, and that was going to cause problems for any conversation we might have.
I thought of myself as an adult, someone mature enough to deal with whoever. I knew how to adapt, how to find the best way to talk to everyone as an individual. But with him, I went back to being an eighteen-year-old. It was as if I was anchored in that time, as if I were a girl and not a woman and hadn’t learned a thing in the intervening years.
I mean, I’m not sure about that—I was as insecure as ever, that’s what this whole story’s about—but you all know what I mean.
It was still storming all over the island, and the wind and rain were striking the windows. The sound made me nervous. When I looked out, I saw a curtain of water concealing everything and strips of fog obscuring the trees and hills.
I’m not sure how long I stood there watching the water bead and drip down the glass until I finally admitted I was hiding and that shutting myself up in that room forever was ridiculous. I put on a strappy dress that hung to my ankles and threw one of my sister’s sweaters over my shoulders. The temperature had dropped, and the radiators weren’t working. I tried to turn on the lights. Nothing. What else could go wrong?
I cleaned up and brushed my hair, looking in the bathroom mirror. Then I stood there as the reality hit me: the last ten years of my life could be summed up with reference to one person. And that person was under the same roof with me now. Ten years of loving him and then hating him. And I still hated him. I had gotten so good at hating him that it was an art.
It took all the courage I had to go downstairs.
I found Trey in the kitchen, barefoot, in dark jeans and a ratty graysweatshirt. His hair was sticking out every which way, as though he’d just crawled out of bed.
He looked up when I entered, and for a moment, we stared at each other. Then we made a point of ignoring each other. I walked over to the tap and poured myself a glass of water, drinking it in tiny sips. I watched from the corner of my eye as he fired up the woodstove. I was relieved that at least we could cook and even boil water for a bath if things got really bad.
He put on a pot of water and grabbed the instant coffee from the cabinet. My instant coffee. Without thinking, like a spoiled little girl, I said, “That coffee’s mine. You can’t use it without my permission.”
“That coffee isn’t yours, it’s mine.”
“I don’t think so. I bought it yesterday in the center of town.”
Bitterly, he responded, “What a coincidence…so did I!” And he turned around, dumping two spoonfuls of it into the water.
When I smelled coffee, I nearly closed my eyes from pure ecstasy.
“Seriously. I get that I’ll have to put up with you while you’re here, but hands off my stuff!”
