“No,” I say, taking the mug he offers me.
“Thank fuck,” he says and then carefully sits back in the armchair next to the sofa. “Because I can’t be arsed to go back there and get you some.”
I smile at his honesty. It’s refreshing.
I take a leaf out of his book. “I’m sorry for freaking out. I get…anxious about being away from home. Or more specifically, away from a toilet.”
He blinks those long lashes at me, slowly. “We have a toilet here.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess you probably do.”
“Hasn’t the colostomy bag helped with that…side of things?”
I look to see if he looks disgusted or uncomfortable talking about this but he’s simply looking at me while taking a tentative sip of his hot tea.
“Yeah, it does. But I still get anxious. I can’t explain it. Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“That can be true.”
“So, are we really stuck here? All night?” Maybe it’s the tea, maybe it’s the adrenaline leaving my body, maybe it’s the fact that Dion is the first person I’ve talked to about my Crohn’s who doesn’t seem remotely perturbed by it, but I finally feel ready to face this truth.
“I think so,” he says. “Even if we break the window or door to get out, I’ll have to stay here to stop kids or criminals taking advantage. And with a smashed window, it will be bloody freezing. At least this way we’ll be warm and dry.”
Dion nods at the window and I see raindrops lashing against the glass. I hug my mug in both hands. I almost feel cosy to be inside while the dark rain pitter-patters outside.
“And we have enough vegan milk to keep us in tea,” I add.
One side of Dion’s mouth twitches. “Yeah, we do. Also the fridge has food in it. Mostly sandwich-filling type stuff, but enough to keep us alive.”
His phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket. His shoulders fall as he reads whatever’s on the screen and when he speaks again his voice has more ease in it. “Don’t you need to let someone know where you are?”
“Someone?” I ask after swallowing some tea.
“Yeah, a wife or a girlfriend?”
I suppose I shouldn’t be stunned by him assuming that, and yet, I am.
“Oh, I’m not married. Or in a relationship. I’m single. Very single.” I blabber and feel more foolish with each word.
“Right. So nowhere to be tonight?”
“Nowhereto be,” I confirm. “You?”
He glances at his phone. “No, I’ve messaged to explain.”
That has me thinking. Is there a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a partner that he’s not going to see because of this mess?
“Not wanting to be a dick, but, isn’t it a fire risk to not be able to open the door from the inside?”
“Yeah.” Dion stares at the door like that will magically make it open. I have to admit I’d tried to do the same earlier. “But that’s why we always have the keys behind the counter.”
“But Mari took them?”
“Yeah, I don’t know why they did that. I think they were just eager to get out the door. They’re heading to Amsterdam for a tattoo convention and they’ve been all excited and nervous energy for weeks.”
“Amsterdam,” I muse. “That will be nice.”
“You ever been?”
