“Can I get a shower and borrow a bed for the night?” I asked instead of reassuring her I’d tell my parents. I didn’t reassure anymore. Reassurance was a waste of breath. Something we did because we thought it was a necessity.
She frowned and then nodded. “Of course. Come on inside.” She stepped back, and Nate wrapped an arm around her waist loosely. It seemed like some sort of comfort thing. If I had upset her, I knew he would reassure her. I walked by them and into the house. Vaulted tongue and groove ceilings, wide open space, money. Wealth. Taken for granted. Not because they were selfish but because they’d known nothing else. I’d been just like them once.
“Are you hungry? Or thirsty?” Bliss asked from behind me. I finished scanning all they’d done before turning to look at them.
“A beer would be good,” I replied. “Place looks great, but then it was nice before.”
“It’s taken almost a year, but it’s exactly what we wanted. Dealing with contractors was a bitch. But other than that, it’s not been bad.”
“Heineken or we have some from the new microbrewery in town,” Bliss said from the fridge.
“The local stuff isn’t bad,” Nate added.
“I’ll try the local then,” I replied. I didn’t give a shit what it was, but the response would cause Bliss to look too closely. Ask things I wouldn’t answer.
“Are you hungry? I could heat up the leftovers from dinner. Blackened shrimp pasta,” she added.
I was too tired for food. “No thanks. I’m good.”
Bliss didn’t look convinced but walked back over to me with an open bottle of beer. I took it and noticed her staring at my right arm that was covered in tattoos. I could tell she was trying to figure out what they were. Why they were there.
“When did you decide to get addicted to ink?” Nate asked as he sank down on the large white leather sectional sofa closest to where we were standing. I shrugged and took a long pull from the beer.
After I swallowed and walked over to an extra wide blue chair across from the sofa, dropped my duffle bag to the floor beside it then sat down before replying, “Wasn’t a decision. Just happened.”
“How exactly does”—Bliss waved a hand at me as she sat down beside her husband—“that just happen?”
It didn’t just fucking happen. There was a reason, but those reasons were mine. She seemed annoyed. Because I wasn’t the guy she once knew? Or because she disapproved of the new me? I didn’t care. Pleasing Bliss no longer mattered to me. I wanted her happy and she was. That was clear. Wasn’t my job to please her now just as it hadn’t been then. I had wanted it to be once. Knowing deep down it never would be. It all seemed shallow to think I’d once weighed my happiness on her.
“It just happens,” I replied with no intention of saying more.
She then waggled her finger in the direction of my hair. “I’ve never seen it so long,” she was going to keep on until she was satisfied with an answer.
I just nodded. She was right. I’d never let it grow out like this before.
“Up the stairs and the first door on the left is a guest bedroom. It has its own bathroom. You’ll see the towels when you walk in to our right. Make yourself at home,” Nate said before Bliss could ask me more questions I wasn’t going to answer.
“Thanks,” I told him and stood back up. “I appreciate y’all letting me crash here tonight.”
“You’re always welcome here,” Nate told me, and I watched as his hand rested on Bliss’s knee. He was silently telling her to let me go. Nate was more perceptive than I’d given him credit for.
“If you want to go run in the morning, use the French doors. They won’t ding throughout the house when opened.”
I hadn’t gone for a run in six months.
“I don’t run anymore. Goodnight,” I said. I didn’t wait on a response from Bliss. I took my duffle bag and headed for the staircase to the far right of the large open area.
I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket but ignored it. There was no one I wanted to talk to tonight. That would all have to wait until tomorrow. I knew without looking it was family. I’d gotten through all the questions I could handle for the moment.
MAY 24 / 6:45 PM
Ophelia Finlay
MY PLAN TO leave at three hadn’t gone accordingly. I’d gotten my things packed, cleaned up the flat, taken out all the trash, then when I finally got into my car, the change engine oil light came on. I was never good about remembering to get my oil changed. Glancing up at the sticker in the far left corner of my window I realized I was three thousand miles overdue. Dang it!