Because I know that sounds like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
And maybe I have. Maybe I need to see a shrink about it. Maybe I need help to get over this.
Maybe I need a new male masturbation sleeve. More Power Glide gel. A blow-up doll.
Jesus. No.
I swipe a hand over my face.
“I’m fine,” I tell Mabel. “Don’t worry about me.”
She can be a little nosy into other people’s lives. I know it’s because she cares, but sometimes it’s annoying.
“Okay,” she says, the word dragging out of her and obviously completely insincere.
Finally, we’re home. I get out of the elevator first. “See you tomorrow, Benny.”
“Yeah. You driving?”
“Sure.”
We take turns driving to the practice facility.
“Okay, guys. Toodaloo, kangaroos.”
Alone in my condo, I kick off my shoes, head to the bedroom and strip off my clothes. I grab my phone and climb into bed.
My first impulse is to check Nikki’s Instagram. But I stop myself.
New year. New resolution. I’m over it.
So I plug in my phone to charge and make myself go to sleep.
* * *
I wish I had a game every day, because it would keep me from thinking about Nikki. I need to stay busy. I need some hobbies.
One day, determined to find something to take my mind off her, I go online and do some googling. Unlike Mabel, I’m not a big reader. I have no interest in Ham radios. Oh, hey—Parkour. That sounds interesting! But… maybe not a great idea if I try to vault over a wall and end up breaking a leg or something. Gardening, barbecuing… nah. Not gonna work here in the winter.
I already work out a lot. I could get some goldfish… I guess. Bowling could be fun—except I need people to bowl with. Maybe some of the guys would want to do that.
Where did Mabel find those courses she was taking when she first moved here? The full moon circle, or whatever witchy event that was, the bartender lessons… I do more searching and come up with cooking classes. I pause. I could do that. Culinary boot camp! I check dates and times, then blow out a frustrated breath. The classes are held Monday or Friday afternoons. How am I supposed to sign up for that with my schedule? This coming Monday we’re in Seattle. Friday we’re here but it’s a game day. I need to nap, not cook.
I close out of that website and idly open a news page. What’s happening in the world? Saudi Arabia is lifting an alcohol ban. The panther population is declining. News about a roof collapsing at a concert. I almost scroll on, but then I freeze. Like, I go absolutely, utterly stone cold, popsicle frozen, staring at the computer.
At least 14 people have been killed and many more wounded after a roof collapsed at a Nikki Sullivan concert at Rolf Schuster Halle in Berlin. The roof collapse occurred at about 10p.m., trapping many concertgoers while others fled in terror.
Jesus Christ.
I can’t move. Can’t think. The only words running through my head areNikkiandis Nikki okay?
What if she’s one of the people killed? What the fuck happened? Sweet salty Jesus!
I read more.
Heavy snow over the last two days has crippled much of Europe, including Germany, France, and Switzerland. There’s still no official word on what caused the collapse, but the weight of snow on the roof of the concert hall appears to be the primary cause of the accident.
I shake my head and frantically start searching for other stories about the incident. “What about Nikki?” I shout as I hunt for more information. “She must be okay. They would say that straight up if she was one of the people killed. Wouldn’t they?” One website is slow to load, and I slam my hand down on the keyboard.
