Chapter 14 #3
His jaw ached, nose stinging with sudden tears. “But why would Royce expect anything less than for me to put out when I’m… when I’m me?”
“Why do you hate yourself so much?”
“I don’t! But if everyone treats me a certain way, then there must be a reason for it!
Royce wouldn’t have done that unless he thought I wanted it.
He’s had plenty of opportunities at the gallery when it was just him and me in a back room, and he’s never done anything sexual.
This evening notwithstanding, I’ve felt safer with him around than anyone else.
I never have to worry about Zedd showing up at the gallery. ”
“It. Does. Not. Matter. In fact, that makes it worse. He’s someone you trust and consider a friend and he violated that. Violated you.”
The scent of Royce’s aftershave – pine, balsam, patchouli – still lingered in Cosmo’s nose. He felt Royce’s hard grip on his thigh, centimeters from his crotch.
He clutched his elbows and fought against the lump welling in his throat. “Micah knew. He knew it was going to happen, and he knew it was going to be Royce. But I didn’t listen.”
“I hate to say this, but everyone seemed to believe he was like that but you. Royce used to flirt with you constantly. And remember at your funeral? Your mom looked like she wanted to slit his throat, and she’d only known him for five minutes.
This still isn’t your fault. I’m just saying that I wish you didn’t have to see the way he is the hard way. ”
Déjà was always right – he may as well have been an actual ghost for as easily as she saw through him.
Cosmo had told Royce to stop, and the director had deliberately ignored him.
That wasn’t Cosmo’s fault. But it didn’t do anything for the misplaced guilt churning in his stomach.
He didn’t know how he was supposed to face Royce at work now.
“I should quit the gallery.” He meant it the way someone said they should work out more or should get their Christmas shopping done early. But approval filled Déjà’s face and she nodded.
Quitting Identical Dog for a position somewhere else wouldn’t be the worst thing. He’d been an art handler for years, and despite his efforts to prove his worth, he wasn’t moving up. He shouldn’t have had to cut his date with Micah short in order to impress the boss on his day off.
“I suppose… I could text Simone and put out some feelers.”
His phone sat on the coffee table amid scattered contents that had been in his pockets. Déjà picked it up and handed it to him. “You should.”
Night Gallery probably wasn’t a perfect choice for a new job because Simone, the gallerist, collaborated with Identical Dog often and he would still end up seeing Royce, but the familiarity with it would likely make it the easiest transfer.
He frowned at the text, then reread what he’d sent to her. That was a strange response to his benign question, but it was also nine pm on a Friday. He started to type back that he was fine, but another text appeared.
Cosmo gasped. Registrar! It wasn’t permanent, but it was a start.
He handed Déjà his phone. She read over the texts and said, “I bet Royce made a pass at her too. Or she’s heard about him harassing other employees.”
“You think so?” Cosmo had been tight with the director. If the other employees hated Royce, they certainly wouldn’t have gone to Cosmo to talk about it. Maybe that rumor about Royce demanding blow jobs in exchange for considering portfolio submissions was true.
His face crumpled and he clutched his elbows.
Déjà sat next to him. “Now we need to make a plan to castrate your boss. Do you still have those nice ceramic knives your mom gave you?”
He winced, then cleaned up the items on the coffee table. “So, did Micah tell you what’s going on with his studio? He told me you tried to do a spirit cleansing to get rid of me. You’ve fully embraced your ghost communing abilities, I see.”
“You don’t want to talk about Royce anymore.” She studied him for a long moment. “Fine. As long as you tell me what happened wasn’t your fault. And you’d better mean it.”
Swallowing thickly, he said, “It wasn’t my fault. But that doesn’t make me feel any better about it. Can we please talk about something else now?”
Her face softened, and she squeezed his hand. “I asked Micah to tell me what was going on in the studio, but he never did. He doesn’t treat you like trash, does he?”
“Absolutely not.”
“He’s a little weird.”
“Very weird,” Cosmo said.
“He has an unusual look.”
“Don’t you love it?”
“And there’s something unsettling about his art that I can’t put my finger on.”
“Absolutely.”
She lightly smacked his forehead. “He’s perfect. So why in the hell did you go to a bar with Royce when Micah was right there?”
Cosmo put his face in his hands. “I made such a mess of this.”
“Call him and fix it. It’s about time you found someone who’s good to you.”
“I said something very hurtful. There’s no way he’s still interested.”
“You don’t know that. He pleaded with me to come help you. He still cares.”
Cosmo flopped back on the floor and threw an arm over his face. “About my safety, maybe. Not about dating me.”
The silence stretched until Déjà said, “God, you’re so hot it disgusts me.”
What in the world was she talking about? His face was puffy from drinking too much, and he was wearing ten-year-old pajamas from Walmart. He sat up to find her scrolling through his phone.
“Hey.” He tried to snatch it from her, but she leaned away. “You have no business looking at anything on there.”
“You handed it to me to look at.”
“At my texts to Simone. Not my photos.”
“I can’t look at photos of you?” Her mouth pulled to one side. “Am I going to see your baked goods in graphic detail if I scroll too far?”
“There’s a cream pie in there somewhere.”
“Oh, gross.” She grimaced and tossed the phone in his lap.
“An actual cream pie. It was good.”
The phone rang, and he squeaked.
Déjà pressed her teeth into her bottom lip. “I texted Micah your new number.”
“Déjà!” The phone vibrated against the carpet, and he imagined Micah’s needy voice on the other end saying, I don’t know you, but I know you’re beautiful.
What was Cosmo going to say? He couldn’t let it keep ringing. Picking it up, he pressed it to his ear and said, “Hello, Micah.”
Nothing but breathing filled the line, and for a terrible second Cosmo wondered if it wasn’t Micah at all but Zedd calling with another creepy message. A throat cleared, and Micah said, “Hi.”
Cosmo tugged at the carpet fibers and stared at Déjà, who mouthed, Come on!
“You… You showed me the most vulnerable part of yourself. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you to go through what you have. That’s not pity, just a fact. And this evening I stabbed you right in that soft spot. I’m so sorry.”
Micah was silent for so long that Cosmo was sure he’d hung up. He finally said, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pulled you the way I did. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Do you forgive me for what I said? And for making a scene?” He cringed. “And for slapping you?”
Déjà made a strangled noise. “You did what?”
“I don’t know,” Micah said.
It wasn’t what Cosmo wanted to hear, but at least it was honest. “You were right about Royce. I should have listened to you.”
“Did he–”
“I’m fine.” Cosmo’s words came out too harsh, and Déjà frowned and shook her head. “I really wish I could do this day over again.”
Micah laughed, a humorless huff that grew watery at the end, and Cosmo wondered if he’d been crying.
“Why is that funny?”
“Because you’ve lived this day before,” Micah said.
Déjà had scooted so close her ear was practically against the phone, so Cosmo put it on speaker. He said, “Right. I’ve lived this day before because we’re in a static block universe. Some version of me will always be living this day. Forgive me if I don’t find that humorous right now.”
“No. I mean I had actual future knowledge of you living this day. Other Micah didn’t have specifics. The things I did this evening didn’t happen in his world. But nothing I did stopped the situation with Royce. Except maybe calling Déjà.”
Cosmo scrubbed at his arms, a sudden chill penetrating through the sleeves of his pajamas. “Other Micah?”
“My future self.”
Micah explained briefly what happened, and Cosmo probably should have been creeped out, but he was too hung up on the fact that his other self had acted on the urge to throw himself into Micah’s arms. The night would have gone much differently if he’d chosen to leave with him to get ice cream.
Instead of picturing a Dairy Queen, he thought of the soda shop he and Déjà used to frequent.
Micah sitting beside him in a greasy booth as the neon from the window signs limned everything an electric pink.
Sipping milkshakes as Micah explained the situation.
Cosmo would lean against him, and Micah would envelop him in his protective embrace.
I want to wrap these arms around you and press you against me. I want to crush you.
An ache filled his chest. He could have had that. But he’d made the wrong choice, and now it might never happen.
Déjà had left Cosmo’s side. She came back with a plate of white chip cookies he’d made the other day, and she seemed to be trying to fit as many as she could into her mouth at once. Her face was slightly ashen and her gaze unfocused as she stared through the wall and chewed her cookies.
“I know I embarrassed you earlier,” Cosmo said into the phone, “but I’m the one feeling very ashamed right now. You must think I’m both cruel and desperate.”
“That’s what you’re focused on right now?” Cookie crumbs sprayed from Déjà’s mouth. “He just told you he was visited by himself from the future.”
“Spacetime is twisted inside the complex.” Cosmo waved his hand. “Keep up, darling.”
She smacked his arm and bit into another cookie, then coughed and headed into the kitchen. “I need some milk. Or some air. Or a place to lie down.”
“I don’t think you’re cruel or desperate,” Micah said. “But I also don’t think this thing between us is going to work.”
Cosmo’s stomach dropped. No, there wouldn’t be any soda shop dates or graveyard kisses or anything else with Micah in this future.
“Uh-uh.” Déjà’s voice came from the kitchen. “I didn’t get involved in this just for you to break up with each other.”
“What do you want me to say?” Micah’s voice strained.
“I fell for you, Cosmo, not because we’re both young and popular artists who got flirty with each other at a party.
No. I’m a struggling, lonely recluse, and you showed up in my studio as a beautiful specter who couldn’t hurt me.
I fell for the idea of you. The dream of you.
I’m too out of the art scene. I’m too old. I’m too – too broken.”
Cosmo shook his head. “No, you’re not. You–”
“It’s not like we can sit across from each other sipping outrageous milkshakes and pretend like none of that is between us.” Micah choked on his words. “I can’t even let you into my apartment for god’s sake!”
Wait. Cosmo stiffened. “Why did you mention milkshakes?”
“What?” A loud sniffle came from the phone. “Because you said it. Invited me to some outrageous milkshake place.”
“I never said that.”
“You must have,” Micah said. “Because I was just thinking about how that sounded much more your speed than a Dairy Queen, which further reinforces how out of touch I am.”
Breath rushed in and out of Cosmo’s chest. “I didn’t mention the milkshake place, Micah.” He swallowed hard. “I only thought about it.”