Maybe it was as simple as the fact that I was never completely alone. I had employees that I interacted with daily, whose lives outside of work I knew about.
But, really, I knew the truth.
I was feeling the impending aloneness as genuine loneliness not because of a new city or a new job or a new apartment.
It was because of Gunner.
Gunner and the smirk I would miss, whose bluntness I had grown accustomed to, whose calm presence had become something I had relied on, whose determination to help me come out of my shell a bit had been something new and incredible for me.
Soon he would be gone.
And he would leave a hole in my life that had never been there before. Because I had never allowed anyone in to leave a void before.
“You’re quiet,” Gunner observed, his eyes piercing into me.
Luckily, I was saved from having to answer him when the super – a neat-looking man in his forties with kind eyes and an open smile – came out to greet us, shaking our hands with enthusiasm.
“And this is my sister,” Gunner said, making my head jerk over.
“Nice of you to bring her out to settle her in,” Andrew, the super, told him, both of them leaving me somewhat out of the conversation.
“So, just to show you around the outside real quick,” he said, starting to walk, doing so side-by-side with Gunner, leaving me – the actual potential renter – to follow behind. “We have a bunch of amenities. An in-ground pool, gym, tennis court, basketball court, playground area, common room inside, even a DVD rental library to choose from. Now you were interested in B2, correct?” he asked… Gunner.
“That was the one, right, Sloane?” Gunner asked me pointedly. And I suddenly wanted to kiss him. Just for recognizing the problem, and addressing it.
“I believe so,” I agreed, looking at Andrew who had the sense to look apologetic.
“Right,” he agreed, moving toward one of the buildings. “So 2B is a second-floor apartment with a balcony overlooking the hills out there,” he told me, waving an arm out even though we were already in a hallway. “Stairs and elevator, of course,” he went on, waving toward the stairs as we got on the elevator. “It is six-hundred-seventy square feet. One bedroom, one bath. Nine-hundred-fifty a month. Water is included in that.”
Six-hundred-seventy feet.
My old apartment was twice that.
In a city where a shoebox cost nine-hundred-fifty a month.
I needed to stop doing that, comparing places.
They were different.
I would have to be different as well.
“Here we are,” Andrew declared, taking me to the left once we got into the upstairs hall.
To the right, 2A had a small Easter wreath on their door, hanging around the peephole.
I should have taken it as a good sign, that people here did things like that. I didn’t even remember the last time I had put the effort into putting up a Christmas tree. It was nice to see the simple things. Or, it would have been nice, if I had been feeling any such thing.
“There are other buildings,” Gunner whispered to me as Andrew moved in, waiting for us to follow.
I felt something then, feeling his breath on my ear, his body close to mine, his voice moving through me.
A shiver.
Both good and bad at the same time.
But at least it was something.
I didn’t say anything, following Andrew inside, finding the living room directly in front, with a small kitchen to the right, and a hall that ran along the back of that to, presumably, the bed and bath.
There wasn’t much to say.
The carpet, while clearly recently shampooed, was old and off-white. The floor in the kitchen was faux wood linoleum. The cabinets were dark and dated with fake brass pulls. The fridge and stove were black and white.
With the overall size, I imagined a small bedroom and smaller, dated bath.
But it was a place to live.
Where I wouldn’t be stabbed.
Hopefully.
“Is there a bathtub?” I heard myself ask, suddenly not so sure that showers would feel quite so safe all alone. Not even almost completely across the country.
“It’s a combined bath and shower,” he told me. “You know, with a curtain and the like.”
That would do, I guess.
“I’ll take it.”
“Sloane,” Gunner hissed at me, clearly taking in my lack of enthusiasm, wanting me to be happy.
I just wasn’t so sure that happy was an option for me.
Maybe it never really was.
“Can we sign the paperwork now?” I asked, wanting to move things along.
“Sure thing!” Andrew beamed. “Just let me go grab it from my office. I’ll be back in just a minute.”
With that, he was gone.
And I moved across my new apartment, looking out on the hills, green and seemingly never-ending.
I could feel it bouncing off of him, even with my back turned. The anger. Frustration. Confusion.
“You don’t like it, duchess. The fuck are you signing papers for?”