Soaking, I tug on my shirt, but leave it on. It reeks of Wren’s place. I can’t stay. All this time, I assumed I’d get her back. But now, it’s final. I grab my keys and walk out in a complete mess. I don’t lock the door. Let the rain have the place.
I have no plan. Can’t go to Chan’s, not with his twins. Then I think of my neighbor Elias.
His house is dark, save for a yellow porch light. Walking across the grass, I step into the mud, shoes squishing, and knock three times.
The door opens on a chain. Elias peers out skeptically. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the sight of me wrecked in the downpour.
“You lost, Ross?”
“Yes.”
He looks past me to the street, then back at me. “It’s two in the morning. Go home.”
“Margot left me.” Three words that strip me bare. Without explanation, Elias knows it’s my fault. Anyone would.
“I figured. Haven’t seen her in a few days.”
“Thought it was temporary,” I say. “Only now realizing it’s not.”
“Look, Ross, I like Margot. She minds her business, waves when taking out the trash, asks how I’m doing, and smiles at the right time. She comes across as sweet… and entirely too good for you. It’s none of my concern, and I’m only telling you because I’ve been there, but you look like you need a reality check.”
“You’re not the first to say that,” I say, stepping closer to the gap. Water runs down my nose. “I can’t go back into that house, Elias. The quiet is going to kill me.”
He stops, noting the shaking I can’t control. We aren’t friends. We share a property line and the occasional nod over garbagebins. But he knows what a man looks like when the floor drops out.
“I don’t do drama,” he says, his voice flat. “We share a fence, not a life.”
“I just need a couch. Six hours.”
He sighs, a heavy sound that rattles through his chest. “If you vomit, you clean it.”
“I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“Right.” He undoes the chain. The hall smells of dog food and burnt coffee. I step inside, leaving a puddle on the hardwood. “Guest bath to the left. There’s a towel under the sink. Don’t touch the thermostat. You wake the dog, you walk her.”
He turns his back and heads to the kitchen without waiting for a thank you. I stand there shivering.
Broken springs dig into my back. Sally occupies the center of the couch, leaving me the edge. Above, the ceiling paint bubbles. In my hand, the phone glares blue.
Swipe. Last anniversary. Margot mid-laugh, wineglass tilted. I took the shot, feigning interest. I don’t remember her joke. I only see the empty chair reflected in the mirror behind her. My chair.
Swipe. Lisbon. Margot asleep on my shoulder in coach, mouth open. The scent of coconut lip balm rises off the screen. This was five years ago, before my office became my real home.
Swipe. Kitchen shots she sent me three months ago. Turkey, potatoes, hearts drawn in the steam. Behind her, the table set for two. My phone sits face-down in the frame because I took a call instead of a meal. I zoom in on the wood grain. The candleburned down to the wax while she waited. She plated dinner anyway.
A video starts. Margot folding laundry, singing off-key. She misses a throw and laughs at herself. I haven’t heard that sound in years. Volume low, I play the clip twice.
My battery is now at 12%. Still, I keep swiping. Balcony shots, dirty mugs, snapshots where I’m always blurred, angled toward an exit.
3:07 a.m. I hover over Margot’s contact. I open Notes instead. The cursor blinks. Delete. Retype. Delete.
I let the room go dark. Sally shifts, her chin heavy on my ankle. The house isn’t waiting for me to leave. It already evicted me.
Chapter 13
Margot
It has been one week since Ross collapsed on Wren’s floor.
