The place he lived in now was an anomaly. Perched at the edge of town, it was as quaint and cozy as a rental house—but occupied all year round. Their landlord discounted Niko’s rent in exchange for maintaining it. He’d also allowed Niko to transform the garage into his workshop, where he’d built an ever-increasing portion of the house’s furniture.
Over the years, Niko had built up his business, in demand enough for handyman and light construction gigs (plus theoccasional furniture commission) to be able to get by without having to get another job on top of it. Still, his savings account never had more than enough to cover a round of drinks at Off the Rails, his checking wasn’t much better, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d fully paid off his credit cards. It would be hard to support anyone else with his current lifestyle—and homeownership was out of the question.
Still, he’d lived in Crested Peak longer than he’d lived anywhere else, and the thought of leaving made his chest ache.
“My mom keeps trying to get me out to Tucson,” he continued, “to work for my stepdad. He owns a business out there. Life insurance, I think. I’ve been telling her ‘next year’ for about the last four years. But that’s probably where I’ll end up.”
Merritt nodded slowly as she chewed, mulling it over. He opened his mouth to ask her why she’d left LA, but she inclined her head toward the bright-yellow plastic bag on the seat next to him. “Did you study art in school?”
Niko shook his head, swallowing his bite. “Nah. I thought about it, though.” He hesitated.
The only person who knew he’d considered going to art school was his high school art teacher, who’d put the idea in his head in the first place. She’d filled his backpack with glossy pamphlets for conservatories and specialized programs, which he’d hidden under his mattress, thumbing through them furtively in the middle of the night like old porn magazines. Though it was a small thing, years buried, mostly forgotten, he felt an odd flash of relief at sharing it with someone else.
The handful of people back then who knew he liked to draw wouldn’t have thought to ask. It wasn’t even in the realm of possibility. Too impractical, too self-indulgent; you were better off burning your money. Unlike the so far completely useless general studies associate’s degree he’d barely scraped togetherenough passing credits for. He’d only gone to college at all because he’d sworn up and down to Yiayia that he would.
“Mostly I was afraid I wouldn’t want to do it anymore if it was something Ihadto do. Something I was doing for the approval of other people, something I’d get graded on. I kind of liked having it be just mine, you know what I mean?”
She nodded slowly, taking a sip of seltzer. “Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean.” And just like that, her face was blank and closed again, her sunglasses like the darkened windows of a vacant storefront.
The questions he’d wanted to ask her withered and died on the vine, and they finished eating in silence.
4
Merritt sucked her breath inthrough her nose and exhaled loudly, dropping her hands and stepping her left foot back, turning her low lunge into a downward-facing dog.
The class wasn’t especially strenuous—she’d forgone her usual Vinyasa Flow to join Olivia for Prenatal an hour earlier. But she’d never had this teacher before, and something about the dramatically breathy pseudo-soothing cadence of her Yoga Instructor Voice was making Merritt’s skin crawl.
“Draaawwwyour body up through your heart center…groundyour energy through your hands…your fingertips…down to your tippy-tippy-tippy-toes…remember to becuriousin your movement…as youfloooowthrough your vinyasa…saying helloooto your up dog…meeting once again…indown…ward-fa…cingdog.”
Merritt pressed her palms into her mat and opened her eyes, glancing over at Olivia next to her.
What’s up dog?Merritt mouthed silently, and yes, it wasn’t her best joke ever, but she still wasn’t expecting Olivia’s face to completely drain of color in response, her eyes going glassy. She dropped to her hands and knees, then bolted out of the room, Merritt following close behind.
She reached the lobby of the studio just in time to see the bathroom door shut with a decisiveclick,followed by the sound of vomiting. Merritt filled one of the communal mismatched mugs from the water cooler, then parked herself on the bench by the door and waited. After a minute or two without any signs of life, Merritt leaned over to mutter through the door.
“Liv? Are you okay?”
“Just leave me to die in here,” Olivia moaned. Merritt glanced over at the girl at the front desk, who seemed absorbed in her phone, just out of earshot. She lowered her voice slightly.
“It was her voice that did it, wasn’t it? If you hadn’t given me an excuse to leave, I might have ended up in there first.”
She heard Olivia give a short, teary laugh. The toilet flushed and the water ran, and eventually Olivia emerged, still looking slightly green. She collapsed on the bench next to Merritt, plopping her head in her hands.
“This sucks,” she grumbled. Merritt nudged her shoulder and offered her the water, which she accepted gratefully. Merritt put her hand on Olivia’s back as she drank, rubbing in small, comforting circles. Once Olivia was finished, she sat up straight and sighed ruefully. “Can’t take me anywhere, huh?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure they’ve seen it all before. At least you made it to the bathroom.” Merritt glanced at the clock. There were less than ten minutes left in the class. “Do you wanna go back in?” She was relieved when Olivia shook her head. “Why don’t we just sit here until it’s over? Then I’ll getour mats, we’ll go next door and get some tea, and then we’ll walk back.”
“Perfect.” Olivia sighed, resting her head on Merritt’s shoulder. “I don’t understand how this is helpful. Evolutionarily speaking. Wouldn’t it make more sense for us to be, like, superhuman when we’re pregnant? Not achy and exhausted and puking every ten minutes?”
“I think it’s supposed to protect you and the babies, like if you accidentally eat something poisonous. Your body is set to auto-eject until everything’s been baking for a little longer.”
Olivia pouted. “And I have to stop eating poison, too? Man, no one warns you about therealsacrifices of pregnancy.”
The front door opened, their gazes turning toward it in unison. Merritt’s stomach lurched as soon as she registered who it was. For a split second, she was worried she’d have to abandon Olivia and run to the bathroom herself.
She forced herself to stay perfectly still, giving no sign that she was in any way distressed by the sight of him.
Maybedistressedwas the wrong word. What she felt was quieter, but the kind of quiet that came before an earth-shattering disturbance. Staring at Niko, framed in the doorway at the opposite end of the long hall, she pictured the two of them as Old West gunslingers facing off at dawn, eyes narrowed, hands tensed on holsters, silently daring the other one to move a muscle.
