“I love those,” Sam admits, moving carefully to the side so he’s not so close to me. My heart races and I’m not sure why we’re here or what we’re doing.
All I can think about is how close we came. And how much further I’d like to go. And how much I never want him to find out the truth so I can’t actually do any of the things I’d like to.
It’s a conundrum.
Chapter 17
March 17
Downtown Halifax
My fingers tap against the concrete bench where I sit in the courtyard of the apartment building I’m moving into tomorrow, waiting patiently for the meeting I’ve scheduled. Shawnee texts me from the store to ensure I’m going through with it. I send a thumbs up as a reply. I am glad she is finally out of quarantine after coming home from Vietnam.
Brent waves from the street when he sees me. I wave back but my stomach is on fire and there’s a chance I might throw up with the nerves attacking me.
“Hey, how’s it going?” He hurries over and hugs me before sitting. “What’s this about, a surprise for Rod?”
“You didn’t tell him we were meeting, right?” I ask, worried about how this will play out. He’s an unknown variable in the story. Maybe he’s already aware and doesn’t care. Maybe he’ll blame me.
“God, no.” He is so chipper and happy. I hate this moment.
I lift a folder of evidence I’ve put together for the last month and printed out. Everything is enlarged so he can read and see the details with clarity. “I have some bad news,” my voice cracks. “I’ve discovered something terrible.”
“What?” he asks, losing the chipper happiness.
“We’ve been played for fools,” I say and open the folder, handing it to him. “I hate showing you this but I can’t let it sit.”
“Fools?” He’s visibly nervous but he takes it. His eyes start at the beginning of the tale. I’ve laid out the details with precision. I don’t have to say a word. The whole story starts with my disclosures and ends with proof, receipts, and pictures.
He slowly turns the first page. Confusion spreads across his face and pinches it tight. The second page, he flips angrily and I’m a bit worried. His nose wrinkles and his head twitches back and forth in tiny movements. I’m not certain if it’s denial.
When he reaches the end, he swallows hard and nods but says nothing. He’s silent, but I imagine a storm rages below the surface.
“Those fucking traitors,” he finally whispers. The shock is visibly overwhelming and he doesn’t blink or move.
“I’m so sorry,” I say in a low voice.
“Me too, Lil. Neither of us deserves this pile of shit!” He lifts the folder. “Jesus.” He takes a deep, shaky breath. I could knock him over with a feather right now.
“I’m leaving Rod. Tomorrow. He doesn’t know. I’ve been moving into this apartment building gradually for a bit. Taking things he won’t notice and setting myself up with new furniture and things,” I confess. “The moving truck comes tomorrow.”
“Lockdown is starting. I take it you timed this?” he asks.
“I did. No one will be in the office. I don’t have to worry about seeing Rod at work. We are all working from home. I’ve taken the week off to move, and by the time we go back to the office, this transition will all be over.” My voice is calm but it’s a dead calm.
“Smart,” he mutters and holds up the folder. “Can I keep this?”
“Yeah, I made one for us both.” I swallow the lump that’s suddenly forming in my throat.
“Guess I’m off to the lawyer’s office then.” He stands and I follow. “Thank you for telling me, Lil. I am astounded you’ve managed to stay calm for the last three months knowing all this.”
“I haven’t been that calm,” I confess. “There’s a chance I might have drugged Rod with ketamine on Valentine’s Day and stolen his phone so I could let a sixteen-year-old boy clone it for a hundred dollars. All for the evidence you’re holding.” The admission is meant to be a joke, but it’s a clear sign of how not okay I am. “I wouldn’t call that calm.”
Brent laughs but it’s almost a sob. He leans in and hugs me again. This one feels different. His fingers grip in and shake a bit and he almost leans on me. I don’t bother to remind him we’re not supposed to be hugging people during the plague.
“I’m sorry,” I say once more.
“No. Please, don’t be.” He lets go and sighs. “This has nothing to do with you or me. This is them. It’s their choice. And now they will have to face the consequences of that choice.” Anger mixes with the hurt in his voice, “I’ll keep you posted on how this turns out.” He steps back.
“Okay. I would appreciate you holding on to the information for one day so I can finish my move tomorrow.”
“Not a problem. I owe you. See ya later,” he says and turns, striding away.
I go back to my apartment.
When I get inside, I marvel at how much it’s coming together with my new purchases and whatever odds and ends I’ve managed to sneak out of the house without Rod’s notice.
This apartment has been my saving grace. Instead of hanging around the house, watching Rod text as his messages are delivered to my phone, I’ve been here. Unpacking and organizing and even painting the walls colors I love.
The new furniture I purchased has added my own style to the place, like the dining room set that matches the barstools. They have a wide shiny chrome frame with white leather padding on the seat and back. Something Rod would never have gone for. He loves the dark woods and old style.
I walk into the second bedroom that I’ve turned into my office. With the equipment coming home with me from work today, the space is finally set up. I can’t believe I’m officially moving in tomorrow. Between working and plotting and coming here, the time has flown by, contradicting that old saying about time flying when you’re having fun.
Fun has been the last thing I’ve had.
I go to the kitchen to turn on the electric kettle I bought yesterday, when I hear a weird noise from the hallway.
James said a sexy single doctor lived across from me, but I haven’t met him yet. I peek through the peephole and see two burly men, one of them is on his knees and picking the lock while the other keeps watch.
“What the hell?” I whisper and pull my phone from my pocket, dialing 9-1-1.
“9-1-1, do you need fire, ambulance, or police?”
“Police. I think there’s a break-in going on in the apartment across the hallway.” I look out the peephole again to see the door is slightly ajar and the men are gone. They must be inside.
I give her the address and watch.
“Can you see them still?” she asks.
“No, I’ll see if I can,” I whisper and carefully turn the door handle. I creep across the hall and push the door open a crack to look inside the apartment.
It matches mine but the furnishings are different. As is the enormous TV that the two men are trying to take off the wall.
I close the door and whisper, “They’re stealing the TV. A doctor owns this apartment. He must be at work.”