“I’ll be right back,” he tells me quietly as he gets up from his seat.
He goes around the corner, through the living room and to the front door. I hear it unlock.
“Why’re you locking me outta my own house?” Chris yells as the door opens. “Hey, um, I decided to invest that money you gave me instead of just blowing it on liquor, only I think things aren’t going so well.”
“I gave you a hundred bucks, Chris,” Mason says. “How did you turn that into someone wanting to track you down?”
“People have this weird thing with me,” Chris says. “You going to get outta my way so I can come in or what?”
“I trusted you, Chris,” Mason tells him. “I knew it was stupid. I knew it was a mistake, but I trusted you. I gave you one last chance to prove that you’re not just everyone’s leech and you blew it.”
I’m out of my seat and as close to the wall as I can get without betraying my presence.
“It’s gonna be all right,” Chris says. “I know you’re stressin’ about money and all that, and I just wanted to tell you that if you could spot me like another Benny, I can get that first hundred back, plus interest. Come on, man,” he says. “One door closes, another one—”
The door slams, and I hear it lock.
Chris is pounding on the wood again, calling, “I get that. That’s funny! Now come on and let me in, man. You don’t know what kind of night I’ve had.”
“Figure it out!” Mason shouts and I walk back to the table and grab my purse. “We’re done!”
Mason and I promised to be more open about stuff like this, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for me to be here while this goes down. I don’t think it would actually come to blows, but whatever’s about to happen, it’s not going to be pretty.
“Hey,” Mason says in a loud whisper as he comes around the corner to find me already out of my seat, my purse slung over her shoulder. “I hope you understand, but I think it might be best if you sneak out the back and try not to run into him. I don’t know if he’s drunk, but he’s getting pretty pissed.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I kind of got that vibe.”
“Okay,” he says. “Just head out the back door and go around to the south side. From the direction I’m facing now—”
“I know which direction south is,” I interrupt.
“Okay,” he says. “From there, just stay low along the hedges and when you get close to the sidewalk, just slowly walk away like you just came out of the next house, all right?”
“I’ll do what I can,” I tell him.
“All right,” he says, kissing me on the lips and then on the forehead. “I’m sorry about this, but we won’t have to deal with it after this, okay?”
“Okay,” I tell him. “Just don’t… I mean, you two can talk—”
“I’m not planning to hand him a beat down,” Mason interrupts. “I’m just going to get him and his stuff off of my property. There’s no reason this has to go the other way.”
“Okay,” I answer. “Call me when it’s over.”
It sounds cold the way I say it, but Mason nods his assent.
I go out the back and around the side as instructed, but I’d never realized just how short these hedges are until I’m trying to use them as cover. Staying uncomfortably low, though, I manage to get to the sidewalk and casually walk away.
This isn’t how I’d hoped the morning would go. I just want the complicated part of our relationship to be over already.
I don’t know how long Mason’s going to need with his brother, so I guess I should just head home.
It seems like every time we get a new start and things start going well, something comes up and we’re back in damage control mode. Am I naïve just wanting things to be easy for once?
I get to my apartment building and with everything, I’m just glad to be home. That relief lasts until I open the front door and get an eyeful of my naked roommate straddling some naked guy on the couch.
Jana looks over, covering herself with her hands and I slam the door shut again.
I really didn’t need this right now. Usually, I couldn’t care less about Jana’s sex life, but when I can’t even walk through my front door after being the fourth wall during a tense situation between my boyfriend and his brother, I get pretty pissed.
I’m still standing here in front of the doorway. I haven’t moved.
I really don’t have anywhere else I want to go. Money’s too tight for me to go out and get something to eat while my roommate and her sweaty paramour finish up, and I’m not in the mood for going over to someone else’s place or to the library to study.
I just want to be home. Is that so much to ask?
You know what? This is my home, too.
I throw the door open again to find Jana and the balding brunette guy she’s with in different stages of getting dressed.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Jana says. “We didn’t think you’d be home for a while.”
I walk in and close the door behind me.
“Kind of helps you get that feeling that you’re in college, though, right?” she asks.
I set my purse on the table.
“You know how they’re always talking about the wild sex parties that go on in college,” Jana says, though I’m not sure why she keeps talking.
I go to the cupboard and pull down a glass, which I then fill with cold water.
“You seem pretty mad,” Jana says. “Will you at least talk to me?”
I take a sip of my water and look at her.
“Look, I don’t know what the big deal is,” she says. “Is that what you wanted to come home to? Probably not, but that doesn’t mean that it’s anyone’s fault. I mean, these things just happen.”
The guy’s dressed except for his shoes and socks, but no doubt as a reaction to the palpable tension in the room, he just picks up the rest and heads for the door. I set my water on the table.
“Well,” she says, “now you’ve scared off my date. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gone out and brought a stranger home? A girl’s gotta be able to go out and make a mistake every once in a while,” she says. “That’s what keeps you young.”
“It doesn’t bother me that you’re having sex in the apartment,” I tell her.
“Oh, good,” she says, taking a deep breath, relieved until she realizes she’s put her shirt on but not her bra.
“It doesn’t bother me that I don’t know the guy or that you don’t either,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she says, “are we doing a thing here, because I don’t know what my next line is supposed to be.”
“It wouldn’t bother me if you came home with nine guys, five women and a bowling ball,” I tell her.
“A bowling ball,” she says, forcing laughter. “That’s funny.”
“What bothers me,” I say, “is that after yet another crappy day in my own life, I come home, just happy to be back where I’m comfortable, where I can retreat from the world, to find I can’t even enter my own apartment without having to walk through your inability to say no to anyone about anything.”