“Right. Anything else? Do you even have a hobby?”
“Making money.”
“Not a hobby. Not even, in my opinion, a valid use of your time, much less your humanity.”
“You make money.”
“I matchmake. Money’s a side effect. But Rae? She’s… a spark. For a guy like you, who’s held himself in check so long, if you’d just let her light you up, you’d be able to… to…”
“Live.”
I can’t believe I’ve said the word aloud. It feels simultaneously like the most pathetic admission I’ve ever made, and the most freeing.
With Rae, I was alive.
Am I even living right now? Is this how life’s supposed to feel?
Dorothy hums a long, low sound. There is zero judgment in it, and for some reason, that makes me feel even worse.
“I can just picture the two of you. You’d be happy, kid. Like you were at the retreat. But also a wreck, running around after Rae, working hard to keep her happy while she fixes up the world. It’s what you want, isn’t it?” She laughs a silent, stoner’s laugh. “There’s a damn hobby for you.”
I shake my head, shut my eyes hard, and then open them, craning my head to catch a glimpse of stars through the glare of streetlights. Nothing. Not a one.
“Listen, Grant, let me tell you what you’ve got going for you. One: You’ve got a nice house, and despite what you claim, it’s more than just an investment. It’s obviously been a labor of love. Those corbels. The reclaimed brick. That’s not investment-level stuff.”
I put out a hand and run it over the railing I sanded by hand, painted twice before finding the right color. “So, I’ve got a house.”
“Two: Though you work hard to hide it, you’re a decent human being. Better than decent.”
“Oh, please.”
“I swear you’ve got a radar for when Malika comes home with groceries. You’re there, ready to carry them. The other day, we both realized that neither of us has taken the garbage to the curb once this year. What is up with that?”
“I like to help.”
“Yeah, well, I appreciate you. And you know how I feel about men.”
“Not great,” I concede with a smile.
“Yeah, not great. You’re a natural caretaker, fighting those instincts tooth and nail, and you know, it’s funny because Rae was forced into the caretaker role through circumstance. She’s only slowed down now thanks to you. You helped her snap out of it.”
“You’re matching our traumas.”
Even in the dark, I see the glare of her eyeballs as she gives me a long, sarcastic Dorothy stare.
“No way,” I say as realization hits. “That’s the key to your algorithm? Your big trade secret? Holy shit, Dorothy. I can’t decide if you’re a genius or a creep.”
“Not mutually exclusive.”
“That’s some evil mastermind shit.”
“Glad you recognize the genius at work.”
Her front door swings open, and Malika sticks her head out.
“Ah, my sidekick calls.”
“It’s late. You coming?”
