“Oswald is waiting inside,” Memphis says after closing my door for me. I linger at the back of the car, expecting him to lead the way, but he remains behind me until I feel pressured to get moving by just his presence.
“Up there?” I question quietly when we enter the front hall.
“Yup, door on the right.” He places his hand on the newel post behind me, preventing me from retreating out of the building.
The heat of his body has me hustling up the stairs to find the door on the right of the hall is cracked open. I place my palm on the wood, hesitantly push it the rest of the way open, and peer inside. The room is small. There’s a futon with a desk opposite it, placed under a window, with a tiny kitchen off to the right. I’ve never seen such a little stove.
None of that bothers me. What gets me is how hollow it feels. There’s nothing personal, no pictures or even a blanket on the sofa. It feels more like I entered a hotel room than Memphis’ house. I can’t even feel his presence here, which is strange because he is so…big.
Oswald exits the only door down a short hall, half wiping his hands on his pants as he does. His brows rise like I’ve surprised him, but he recovers quickly and meets me in the sitting area. “You made it,” he observes.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come?”
“No, I figured you would, it’s just…” He shrugs like he doesn’t know what else to say. The door behind me snaps closed, and I hear a lock turn. If I thought being around them at my house was hard, this is nuts. The room feels even smaller with both of them in it. There’s nowhere to go to get any air or escape their stares.
The awkward silence lasts until Memphis offers, “You can sit down.”
I take the two steps over to the front of the futon and let my bag skip down my arm before placing it on the floor at my feet, then lowering myself to the couch.
Oswald takes the desk chair but spins it to face me and Memphis, who continues to linger near the door. I have a feeling he’s blocking my exit, though it could just be in my head. “You wanted to tell me something,” I remind Oswald, feeling uncomfortable for all the wrong reasons. I should be worried they have me cornered, that they pursued me when I made it clear I was trying to pull away from them. Instead, I’m wondering why Memphis’ existence permeates my house more than his own and lying to myself about being able to handle what they will give me, just so I can have a small piece of them. It’s frightening.
“Yeah.” Oswald shifts his knees from left to right, swinging the chair a little as he does. “First, I just want to say sorry.” He glances past me, and I know he’s looking at his brother. “I should have stopped him before he went that far.”
“It’s—”
“Not okay,” Memphis interrupts, assuming I’m going to absolve him.
“Not your fault.I knowit’s not okay.”
“Uh, okay, well…I still feel like I owe you an apology,” Oswald says rather slowly like he’s not sure which one of us, probably Memphis, is going to speak again.
I don’t respond because I’m not ready to accept his apology or forgive Memphis about this yet.Crap,why did I think yet?
After a few more seconds of silence, Oswald starts again. “I know it sounds like total bullshit, but the picture was a setup. She and her friend were in my room with KJ that night when I went there. She pretended to fall on my lap, and her friend must have taken the picture.” His shoulders are high, and his head is tilted to the side, as if he’s doing some weird half shrug.
The image of the photo is clear in my head. I looked at it for way too long, even screenshotted it so it wouldn’t be obvious I kept looking at it, then tortured myself with it all night every time I thought about answering their calls and texts.
It didn’t look like she fell on him, it looked like he was holding her on his lap. I think he can see the doubt on my face because he rushes to add, “I swear. Right after it happened, I came here. I told her I had…that I wasn’t available. She posted that shit on purpose, and the ones from the next morning, that was my shirt, so that means she went through my shit and KJ let her.” He actually sounds a little pissed, which could be because he’s telling the truth or because she got evidence about them being together and he didn’t know it.
“Why would she do that?” I question, not understanding her motivation.
“Because I let her know I wasn’t interested.”
The face I make might be a wince, but really, it’s more doubtful than anything. “Wouldn’t that be more embarrassing for her if she posted something that wasn’t true, and you told people it never happened?”
“No,” Oswald scoffs. “Somebody who’s willing to do shit like that after I told her I had a girlfriend doesn’t get embarrassed. She would probably just say I was lying anyway.” He leans all the way back and the chair creaks.
“Then how do people know who to believe?” I ask, looking for some insight, or maybe I just want him to convince mehe’stelling the truth. I also want to know more about the girlfriend comment. Could he be referring to me? I’ll have to work my way up to asking that one.
“Honestly, Waylynn, I don’t care what anyone else believes beside you. I’m telling you this girl knew exactly what she was doing.”
“He was here that night. His shorts are probably still on the bathroom floor where he left them before showering,” Memphis chimes in.
Oswald makes an annoyed face for a second, then peers at me with a cautionary gaze. “You can go look. I’m kind of a slob.”
“I don’t want to check if your panties are in the bathroom,” I retort dismissively with an eye roll.
“Panties?”
