"It's irrelevant, Jason. I broke up with you. Now I can make friends with whoever I want."
That flicker in his eyes is back. Barely there and then gone, but something primal in me catches it, because the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
"Who was he?" Jason's tone has changed. He's becoming angry. This is the moment where I need to decide how to play this. Do I stand my ground? Do I try to run while he's sitting on my bed? The distance is too much. Rounding the small islandwill give him all the time he needs to get up and close any distance I gain.
"His name is Nick."
"Nick."
"I helped him in a car wreck a couple of weeks ago. He was a patient at the clinic. We had dinner tonight as athank you." I shrug, trying to make myself seem unbothered, like it's an everyday occurrence. "That's it."
"He was in your apartment, Sadie." He's testing me. I know he is. But how can he know what Nick and I did in here?
"He walked me home."
Jason stands up off the bed and my body tenses without my permission. He sees it and spreads his hands in the gesture he uses to tell me I'm overreacting, thehey, hey, it's megesture, and my stomach turns over.
"Relax," he says. "I'm just catching up with my girlfriend."
"I'm not your girlfriend." I realize I don't care how tonight plays out. I can't do this anymore. Let him belittle me. Let him beat me. But I will not lie to myself any longer.
He tilts his head. The room is very small. It's always been small, but now it's smaller, and I'm thinking, clinically, about the geometry of it. The door is four steps in front of him. The fire escape window is six steps behind me, and it sticks. I haven't even opened it fully once since I moved in.
What the hell were you doing, Sadie?
The thought is about Nick. It knocks me sideways and I almost laugh at the timing. Two hours ago, I was underneath a man whose business is in thegrayer areas of society, who haspeople, who told me plainly he's amonster. And I let him into my home. I let him into my body. I let him leave a mark on mycollarbone that I can feel right now, and I thought, stupidly, that I'd made a choice that was my own.
I shake it off. It doesn't matter right now. What matters is the man in front of me.
"What do you want, Jason?" It's a stupid question, but I just want to get this over with and get him out of my apartment.
"I want to know why you left without saying goodbye." He says it like he's genuinely hurt. Likemyactions were ridiculous and cruel.
"You know why." Incredulity laces my words, because he can't think I'm so stupid that I didn't notice what he was doing to my insulin.
"I don't, actually. I came home from work and you were gone. Your side of the closet, cleaned out. The insulin was gone from the fridge. I thought something had happened to you."
The insulin was gone from the fridge.
My hands want to shake. I press my palms flat against my thighs and breathe through the rage trying to bubble to the surface.
"I think you should leave," I say.
"Sadie."
"I mean it. I think you should leave and we can talk tomorrow somewhere public. A coffee shop. I'll meet you."
"You'll meet me." He laughs. "Sure you will. Like you met me tonight."
"I didn't know you were coming tonight." My voice breaks, and I shut my mouth before my own body can betray my anxiety any further.
"Right. Because you don't answer your phone." His finger jabs out, accusing, pointing at me like I'm irresponsible and petty.
"I blocked your number." I yell it before I can even weigh the words, and immediately regret it.
His face does the thing. The small tightening around the eyes, the jaw working once, and then he smooths it over because he wants something and he knows he can't get it if he loses control yet.
He sits back down on my bed.
