I mean—
Not that I’d—
That was Brooklyn. Not Carey. But…
Fuck.
Stop it!I hit the side of my head, unable to get the image of Carey lying beneath me out of my mind.
I try to focus on setting up my station for my final client. Carey was meant to do it but I didn’t give him the chance. I sent him over to Watersons’ to buy something we didn’t need just so I didn’t have to be alone with him even though it’s the only thing I want. But it didn’t take him enough time. He was back in five minutes.
I fumble with the large bottle of black ink and it tumbles to the tiles, the lid breaking off and ink splattering everywhere. The walls, the table, my jeans, my slippers.
I squat down and swipe my hand across the black splatters on the fuzzy gray shoes with the forethought of a toddler. It smears, and I swear out loud.
Carey looks up from the desk and whatever he was doing, only to realize I’m about to fucking lose it.
“You fine?” he asks, standing up, his voice all light and caring.
Of course I’m not fine.
Not even close.
My skin feels too tight and my jaw aches.
The bell on the door rings and I jolt in shock.
“Tek?” Carey says my name, but he’s closer now, and when I look up he’s standing only a few feet away from me with a look of compassion on his face that I don’t deserve.
I don’t trust myself to answer so I quickly stand and make a beeline to the back room, ignoring my next client in the process.
“Just give him a sec. Take a seat, there’s water over there. It’s been a day,” I hear Carey say, his voice getting louder until he’s standing just inside the back room doorway. He holds still for a few seconds, and when I don’t acknowledge him he walks past me to get the mop and bucket.
“It doesn’t look like any of it got on the other station, so I’ll set it up quickly then clean the mess. Your jeans are probably a write-off, though.”
I turn my back to him and grip the sink, my hands shaking so badly I'm struggling to hold onto the metal rim.
“You need to take a break, Tek. You’ve put in seventy hours this week. It’s too much.”
I bite down hard on the tip of my tongue so I don’t snap at him. He knows why I’m working this hard. He knows there are no other options. “I ruined another pair of slippers.”
Carey sidles up to me, and laughs. “They were ten bucks. I’ll buy you a new pair.”
“I don’t know why I can’t keep any clean.”
He wraps his strong arm around my shoulders, tugging me against his side. His head slumps over and he shakes me, just a little. “You’re doing too much.”
“I’m not doing enough.”
“You’re being an idiot.”
“I’m not—”
“You’re being an idiot,” he repeats, firm, but kind. “You’re gonna wear yourself out if you keep going on like this.”
“Then I’ll keep going till I collapse.”
With his other hand he reaches over to poke me in the cheek. “Idiot old man.”
