She goes quiet. I taste bile at the back of my throat because she’s no doubt thinking what excuse she can make up to not come see me.
‘Alright. I’ll be there at eight,’ she says softly.
I get to the cabin early. My mood hasn’t improved. If anything, it’s worse. I walk into the bedroom to witness the bed linen still tied up in knots and I’m reminded of everything that happened Sunday afternoon, and what a goddamned idiot I’ve been. I find myself pacing, waiting for her to show.
At just after eight, I hear tires crunching on the track. I stiffen. I hear her car door open and close, the sound of her boots against the porch steps. Usually, the sight of her makes me weak.
Not today.
When she knocks on the door, I open it. I swallow when I see her face. This is gonna be harder than I thought.
‘Hi,’ she says.
I open the door wider. ‘Come on in,’ I say, trying to keep my voice free of any emotion.
She steps inside. She carries a bag slung over her shoulder. The sleeves of her sweater are too long for her arms, and she tugs nervously at the material.
I close the door behind her.
‘How are you?’ she asks.
I’m not doing this. Getting into banal conversation. I didn’t come here for that.
‘Thanks for coming,’ I tell her in a tone that’s even more detached than the one I was going for.
Her eyes flit to the bedroom door and I see her swallow. Like she’s remembering how good it was between us.
‘Look, I know you’re busy with something so… I came here to say… I think I figured it out.’
Her eyes search mine. I remind myself that resistance is the only way I’ll overcome this.
When she speaks, her voice sounds a little stifled. ‘Figured what out?’
‘It’s another guy, isn’t it? I’m just your side piece. You’re either in a relationship or there’s some other guy you’re hooking up with. I figure there has to be a reason you’re never available.’
She looks at me for a moment, then turns her head to the side, biting down on her bottom lip. Her chin trembles and her eyes turn glassy.
She takes a moment to compose herself. Her voice quivers when she speaks. ‘Because that’s the first conclusion you’d draw, ain’t it? Forget about the rules of my contract, forget that my father is sick, I can’t spend time with you so that automatically means I’m cheating on you with another guy—’
‘Are you?’
She glares at me. I’m a little taken aback to see the level of rage that flashes in her eyes.
‘Everybody wants something!’ she explodes. ‘You want my time, the Mutineers want my time, my father needs me, everybody needssomething!’
‘You’re doing it again,’ I say to her, and I keep my voice steady.
‘Doing what?’ she yells.
‘You didn’t answer my question. About whether there’s another guy in your life.’
‘Would you like that?’
I grit my teeth. The thought of it is torture. ‘Of course not. I just wanna know what’s going on with you. I need to know the truth. Is there somebody else?’
‘NO!’ she practically screams at me, and at the same time, her cell phone starts ringing in her bag.
She covers her face with her hands, maybe in reaction to her phone, I’m not sure.
