Dane: Fuck that guy.
Nora: It’s too bad you’re so reserved. I wish you’d just tell me how you feel.
Dane: You joke, but if I was there I’d go up with a hammer of my own and tell him to knock it off before I knockhimoff.
Nora: Normally I’d say that was extreme, but when it comes to Eli, I’m pretty sure he’d only respond to direct calls to violence.
Dane: So go tell him off.
The pounding stops for a brief moment, and I have a wave of relief, but then almost immediately it starts again. I figure I’ll give it a minute before doing anything rash. I set my phone down to charge next to my bed. I tidy up and keep checking in on George, trying to calm him with soothing words. I’m about to pull out the ingredients for dinner when the hammering gets louder.
That’s it. Eli can’t play some game where he jovially spins me around one day and then expects carte blanche to jackhammer on top of my head.
I need to take J’s advice and stand up for myself.
I storm upstairs.
“Eli!” I shout, bounding through the door onto the roof. In my rising annoyance, I fling it from its propped-open position so hard that it bounces off the wall and slams shut. “You can’t just hammer random shit on the roof at all hours. You’ve been driving my dog insane, clearly for quite some time, and now you’re drivingmeinsane by hammering so hard that I can hear every single movement inside my house.”
He’s looked up from his position on his knees, his white T-shirt sweaty as he nails together what looks like flower beds or some other wooden structure intended for potting plants. He’s staring at me, a look of horror and embarrassment crossing his face. I take a step back, wondering if maybe I went too far. Was he confused about the noise he was making? Does he not even realize how loud it is when he does that stuff?
But I could never have anticipated what he says next.
“Nora, I don’t have my keys on me. The door was propped. You just locked us out.”
Chapter 13
“What do you mean?” I ask, hoping that he’s just messing with me. Although from the worried expression on his face, it doesn’t seem likely.
“I mean, the door always locks when it’s closed. You can’t have a building where someone could climb onto the roof and then get inside.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that—”
“Right, so you closed it. It’s locked.”
He’s staring at me now, almost daring me to understand the predicament we’re in. And I’m going to start by refusing to believe him.
“Call Tom or Meryl. They’re always home at night,” I suggest, trying not to panic. “They’ll just come open the door.”
“You call them,” he says, a note of irritation in his voice finally overshadowing his fear.
“I, uh ...” I think about my phone happily charging on my nightstand. “No, you.”
He stares at me, eyes narrowing. I shift uncomfortably at his focus. I can practically guess the next words out of his mouth.
“I didn’t bring my phone upstairs with me.” My mouth falls open. This isbad. This is extremely bad. “Please tell me you didn’t just storm up here without your phone or keys to yell at me about making some noise at like seven at night and now you’ve locked us both out.”
“Well, why don’tyouhaveyourphone or keys?” I ask, trying to divert.
He stands up and walks toward me. I find myself backing into the door. With his muddy jeans and sweaty shirt, he looks like a dreamy dirtbag from an eighties music video. And I have no idea why that’s the thought bursting into my mind, when in actuality I’m faced with a man who looks like he wants to murder me.
“I’m building a planter,” he says. “I didn’t bring anything with me because I didn’t want my stuff to get dirty. It didn’t occur to me that anyone would come up here and slam the door shut.”
“Well, what if you had an emergency?” I counter, delaying the moment when we’ve run out of blame and have to actually contend with the situation.
He puts his hands on his hips. “Yes, obviously now I’m wishing I’d made some different choices.”
We stand, staring at each other, my heavy breathing from running up the stairs finally starting to calm, even if my pulse is now racing for a different reason. How long are we going to be up here? No one else comes to the roof for anything. What’s going to happen to George?
