Chapter 4
FOUR
Jen
My mouth is dry and my head aches when I blink my eyes open. I groan, regretting the fifth round of cocktails Molly and I ordered last night, but I sit up, looking around for my glass of water. No time to waste. Today is day one of operation lose-my-zombie-ex-boyfriend.
I put my feet on the floor and try to stand and the room spins, and I nearly lose whatever I had for dinner last night.
Actually, I don’t remember there being dinner. Oy, no wonder I feel like garbage a fox dragged out of the dustbin.
Just then the bedroom door opens and Adam enters without even knocking. I glance down, and I’m still wearing last night’s jeans and T, which could be worse, but I’m still annoyed.
“Why are you in my room?”
He holds up a steaming mug. “I thought you might want this.”
I eye the mug suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Coffee.”
“Coffee that you made?” I make a face.
He looks a little hurt, but he comes over and hands me the mug. I sniff it, and it doesn’t smell terrible.
Tentatively I take a sip.
OK, so he successfully made me a coffee. Excuse me if I wait to have the medal inscribed until he’s managed to be useful for a whole hour consistently. “Thanks.”
I take another sip.
He’s still standing there watching me, so I sigh and set the coffee aside. “What?”
“Well, I was just wondering if you had any ideas. You know, about the whole zombie thing?”
“Look, I don’t know what you expect me to do. I think you’re really dead.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right.”
“So what now?” Maybe this is the part where he says he’s going home. I can only hope.
He sits beside me on the bed and puts his head in his hands, and I’m fighting with the instinct to feel sorry for him.
“Yeah. I found this website last night. Friends of the Dead. Apparently I’m not the only one. In fact, it sounds like there has been a lot of people being zombified recently.”
Huh. He actually did research. “Well maybe the Friends of the Dead is a good place to start. Surely they have some resources. Maybe a support group.”
“Yeah. They do.”
“Great.” This is promising. Maybe he’ll be out of here without me having to do anything, and I’ll have my life back.
“I signed us up!”
“Wait—us? Why us?”
“You’ll go with me, right? I can’t go to a support group by myself. What if it’s full of losers?”
And just when I think he’s changed. I heave a sigh and push myself out of bed, immediately regretting it but not willing to let him see how much it costs me.
I hurry to the bathroom and wash my face.
“Fine. I’ll go with you. Just let me have a shower and we can talk about it. ” I think I’m going to puke.
He’s still standing there looking at me, so I shove him in the chest. “Alone.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I start the water, frantically thinking of ideas I can use to make him want to leave. Why did I agree to go with him to this support group? Why do I find it so hard to say no to him?
Like when we were dating and I’d pretend to have my period so we didn’t have to fuck.
Don’t judge me. There’s only so much boring sex one girl can take, OK?
At the beginning it was so hot, but after a while it was like he stopped putting the effort in.
He might have an amazing dick, but you also have to know how to use it.
Oh that’s it! I know exactly what will gross him out.
Switching the shower off, I hastily wrap a towel around me and call out to him. “Adam!”
There’s a pause. I shout again. “Adam!”
The door opens, and he peeks through. “Yeah?”
“I’m all out of tampons, and I have my period. Would you run down to the store and get some for me?”
I expect a groan. He just nods. “Sure. Uh, what type do you use again?”
I blink, he knows there are types? “Yeah, I’ve got really bad cramps. I think it’s going to be a bad one. Lots of blood. Better get the extra super ones.”
“Shit. Yeah. OK. I’m on it. Just um…” He looks around frantically. “Can I use your foundation? My skin is really gray.”
I stare at him. Who is this guy? I thought I knew him.
Silently I grab the foundation from the bathroom counter and shove it toward him. “Go nuts.”
He hurries into the bedroom. I can only assume he’s putting on makeup.
I shut the bathroom door behind him and stare at myself in the mirror. OK, so that didn’t work. I’m holding out hope that when he has to walk into the store and ask where the tampons are, it might be too much for his delicate manchild sensibilities.
But half an hour later he opens the door to the flat and calls out, “It’s me! I had to ask a lady whether to get the ones with the applicator or not, and she said it’s personal preference, so I got both types. Are you OK? I got some pads as well in case you didn’t want to wear tampons overnight.”
I poke my head around the bathroom door to stare at him. “You did?”
He pauses in the act of reaching into the shopping bag. “Was that wrong? She told me not everyone likes to.”
I hold out my hand. “No. That was…wow. You actually did great.”
He hands them to me, and I have to close the door again and pretend to unwrap one of the packs. Truth is, I’ve got an IUD and haven’t had a period in two months. So what now?
When I come out of the bathroom, the kettle snaps off and Adam begins pouring hot water into a hot water bottle he must have found at the bottom of my closet. “Oh hey, I got you ice cream. It’s in the freezer. I couldn’t decide if you’d prefer choc mint or rocky road so I got both.”
I narrow my eyes. This is not the Adam I know. Time to double down. Clutching my belly, I let out a groan. “You know what? The cramps are really bad this month. Ice cream might not cut it.”
“It won’t?” He looks genuinely concerned.
“I might need a big juicy steak.”
“Oh.”
I give him a sweet smile. “That’s not too much trouble, is it?”
He blinks. “Oh. No. It’s just…well a few of the people at the store were looking at me funny, but don’t you worry. I’ll be right back.” He grabs the bag, and a moment later I’m alone in the flat again.
Okaaay. Plan C, I guess.
While Adam is out, I make myself comfy on the sofa. I flick on Gossip Girl, wracking my brain for more ideas, when my phone buzzes. I open the message assuming it will be Adam, but it’s Luca, the guy I was chatting to like crazy for a week until he just went quiet.
Luca: Ciao, bella, how are you? What are you doing today?
I smile. It’s good to hear from him. He’s always easy to talk to and such a flirt.
Jen: Hey, I thought you forgot about me. I’m good. Working too many shifts this week. Just relaxing now though.
He texts back only a moment later: Forgot? How could I forget about such a beautiful woman? Life has been busy for me too. But I’d love to take you out some time now that things have settled. What do you say?
The door opens and Adam holds up the shopping bag. “Back. I got it. Do you want me to cook it now?”
Feeling just a little guilty, I give him a breezy smile. “Haha, false alarm! But thanks anyway.”
“Oh.” He wanders into the kitchen, and I turn back to my phone, trying to ignore the little jab of guilt low in my belly. I’m trying to piss him off. Trying to get him to leave. I’m not trying to be his friend. That’s why I’m acting like a jerk.
“Hey, Jen?”
I don’t even look around. “Uh-huh?”
“Do you mind if I eat the steak then if you don’t want it? It looks really good.”
“Sure.” I’m not really listening. Luca has texted me the names of three restaurants and invited me to pick one. They’re all fancy too. He’s not cutting corners.
This is promising.
Adam shuffles over and sits next to me on the couch, and I have to move my feet so he can sit down. “Whatcha doing?”
I glance over, and my mouth drops open. He is chowing down on a big piece of raw, dripping steak. I blink. “You’re not gonna cook that?”
He shrugs. “That Friends of the Dead website said listen to my body. I kinda wanted it raw.”
I shake my head. “You know you don’t have to believe everything you read on the internet.”
Luca sends a selfie of him lying on the sofa in his flat. He has a wide, charming smile and a handsome face.
Adam leans closer. “Who’s that?”
“A friend.” I turn my screen away from him instinctively before I remember he’s not my boyfriend anymore. “A guy I’m dating. Or at least I’m thinking about it.”
“What’s his name?”
“Luca.” I flick my eyes over Adam’s face to try to figure out what he’s thinking, but it’s strangely impassive. “He’s Italian. And very charming.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Why isn’t he reacting more? “You know what they say about Italian guys?”
“No. What do they say?”
“They’re um… they’re really good with their hands.” I make a gesture I hope comes across as sexy rather than obscene.
Adam grins. “Hot.”
Ugh, he is impossible! Why can’t I get under his skin?
I message Luca back, picking one of the restaurants randomly without looking them up. I’m no longer really concentrating on the date anyway. I’m way more focused on what to do about my stupid, couch hogging, zombie ex-boyfriend.
“That was good.” Adam licks his fingers. “I might have to go get more.”
I roll my eyes. “Wash the plate.”
He gets up and takes the plate and my ice cream bowl to the kitchen, which only irritates me more. He’s not allowed to start being useful around the house now. Not when it doesn’t matter anymore.
I need to focus on all the things that annoy me about him and how to get him out of my life sooner. Instead I find myself feeling guilty and unable to concentrate on the episode of Gossip Girl. As the credits roll, I sigh. “What time is this support group?”