“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I sigh, setting down the scissors and moving my cupped hands to sweep up the hair on the stained boards under me. I’m used to the movements now; after years of crisis cuts, I like to think I’m pretty good at gathering all the hair with one sweep and getting it into my cupped hand. Once I’m on my feet, I turn toward the nearest trash can with my snake on my shoulders, only to hear the front door of the apartment open, admitting the light from the hallway and the sounds of fighting going on from the two people there.
“Look, I’m just saying—” Esme shoulders her way past her boyfriend, looking more than a little frazzled. Her cheeks are red with frustration, and I pause as I study her, trying to gauge the seriousness of this round of argument.
“Oh, I get it,” Alan interrupts with an unfriendly laugh. “I know what you’rejust saying,Es.” When he glances up at me, I don’t offer him a wave or a smile. Frankly, I’d enjoy it if she’d kick him out and kept him gone.
But she doesn’t want my opinion, so I pad over to the kitchen trash and step down on the pedal with my bare foot. The lid swings upward, not making a sound, and I shake my hands before brushing them together to deposit all the hair from my spontaneous crisis cut into the bag.
Well, that’s one problem solved, at least. But unfortunately, my other big problem can’t just be dropped into a trash can.
I’d need a dumpster to fit all of Alan’s six-foot frame.
“Doesn’t that weird you out, Tova?” My name drags my attention back to the conversation, and I glance up, one brow raised. Even surrendering this much of my attention to Alan feels like a defeat, but I wait for him to go on. Having known him through my roommate for over a year now, I know this could range from slightly insulting to full-on cruel.
“That fuckingsnake”—he gestures dismissively—“is not even something worth owning. We had those back at my uncle’s place, you know. But we didn’t let them sit on our shoulders.” He gives me an unfriendly smile from under his light brown curls. “We chopped their fucking heads off with hoes.”
“Alan! What thefuck?!”Esme gasps, drawing away from him with a look of disdainful surprise on her face. Her brown eyes widen as she looks at him, as if she really can’t believe what he said, but I only roll my eyes and walk back to grab the scissors off the floor. At least I’d grabbed hair scissors on the way home, instead of chopping off my hair with kitchen scissors like I’ve done before. “What is your problem?”
“And why am I catching strays?” I sigh, though I’m not particularly hurt by his words. “Don’t blame me for your shitty mood, Alan. Or maybe I’ll see if Yoichi bites after all?” Reaching up, I to touch the snake’s chin, my fingers running lightly over his smooth scales.
“Yeah?” Alan takes a few steps into the apartment like he pays rent here too. Which, fortunately, he does not. I figureworst-case scenario, as he’s not on the lease, I could call the cops on him and get the satisfaction of him being dragged away in handcuffs some time Esme isn’t home, or if she’s decided she’s finally had enough of his crap. “I know you don’t have a hoe in here, but I bet a knife works just as well. Even if it takes a little extra chopping.”
She’s too good a person to put up with him.
But I remind myself she’s not interested in my opinion on the subject. So I just huff out a sigh and ignore Esme’s exasperated gasp. “Dude, what the fuck’s wrong with you?” She rounds on him, her brown eyes blazing, but Alan just looks down at her five-foot-three self with a sneer curling his lips. Clearly, he’s not particularly intimidated.
But I’m not particularly insulted.
It takes a lot more than Alan’s pathetic insults and empty threats to get me going, thankfully; otherwise Yoichi wouldn’t be the one getting threatened with a kitchen knife. I slowly shake my head a few times, like a disappointed parent looking at my possibly tipsy failure of a spawn. “Don’t worry about it, Es,” I tell my roommate comfortingly. “He’s not bothering me. I don’t take his crap seriously.”
Though they’ve clearly had a nasty fight tonight. Normally he ignores my existence, as it’s the only way for us to coexist mostly peacefully around Esme. But if he’s openly trying to start something with me, then it’s because he’s already pissed and looking for a fight with any target.
Esme still looks pissed, not that I blame her whatsoever. She shakes her head, keeping her attention on Alan rather than me. “Fuck dinner,” she snarls. “I’m not doing this with you tonight. Just go home. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink.” Not that either of them looks very inebriated, but I’m not about to call her on that. I lean my hip against the kitchen counter, watching both of them with only mild interest. Thankfully, Alan doesn’t rise tothe bait. He shakes head finally and looks at me with a mumbled dismissal, though I only smile stupidly and wave my fingers at him.
“Bye,” he grunts at last, and places a chaste kiss on Esme’s cheek that makes me recoil for her. Then he leaves, without another glance in my direction, and I watch him go without any remorse.
For a few moments we both just stand there, though for me it’s just to make sure that Esme isn’t about to grab a knife and chase after him down the hallway. At least not without me following behind her for moral support. But she stands there and seethes, one hand going up to tangle through her messy hair.
“So…” She finally turns, some of the irritation dying as she tries to look pleasant instead of pissed. “You umm, you want to go to dinner?” my roommate asks, suddenly self-conscious.
I don’t answer at first. At least, not while I study her. My fingers trace Yoichi’s black scales, and I can feel his attention on my roommate, just as mine is. “Yeah,” I agree finally, a smile quirking my lips, though I know she is anything but pleased. “Yeah, I could eat.” Though the invitation feels more like a necessary ritual than anything.
But if it helps, I don’t mind.
Especially since I might get to ask her about what people at the news station she works at know about the body found in the woods this morning.
I seeit the moment that Esme realizes I’ve done another crisis cut. She stops mid-sentence, a fry dangling in the air in front of her, and her eyes go from my black hair that’s just under my chin on one side, to my untouched bangs, and to the side of my hair I know I’ve cut too short. I’m surprised it’s taken her this longto notice. Normally, her artistic, perfectionist self isquickon the uptake after I’ve taken scissors to my hair.
But then again, she has a lot on her mind right now, so I’m willing to give her a pass. I don’t say a word as she surveys my hair, though my brow lifts a little, daring her to comment. Esme finally eats the fry, then takes another one before cleaning her hands on the napkin in front of her. As the easiest person in the world for me to read, it’s not really difficult to line up a few ideas of what she’s about to say to me.
“Are you okay?” That’s the most predictable one, and Esme looks at me now her frustration over Alan is fading. While he’s been the primary topic tonight, not that I mind, there’s not exactly much of a reason to draw the conversation back to him. She won’t leave him, no matter what I say. Even though she’s become more volatile and easier to anger than she ever was before she met the graphic designer from the news station.
Part of me wishes she never got the stylist job there, even though it had always been her dream. At first she was so happy, but I don’t see as much of that anymore. At least not when she comes home fuming and gushing over her boyfriend in equal measure.
Though of late, it’s mostly fuming.
“I’m all good.” I reach down and pick up a piece of bacon, though I eye it critically with a sneer on my face when the texture is clearly crispier than I asked for. Last time, The Pancake Plate was better about this. But maybe I’d asked too much from the new diner that was just recently franchised to the Pacific Northwest from Hayden Fields, Ohio, or whatever.
We never would have checked this place out if my friend from that area hadn’t recommended it, though he never struck me as thebreakfasttype before.
