Chapter 44 #3
Dimples appear in her cheeks, paired with a devious smile. Like the cat who just caught the canary, she beams while pulling up her flaming locks into a top bun.
“Sorry… I should have knocked. Ummm, I’m going to go…
” I retreat quickly, closing the door to the far-fetched scene I just stumbled into.
From the other room, I can still hear clipped words, along with the slamming of drawers.
A few moments later, Andrea and her current partner vacate the room.
This time, I am pleased to find them, more clothed than before.
My roommate pulls Mairead in close to her. Despite my presence, Mairead takes the opportunity to lick up the side of Andrea’s face. She groans, wipes away the spot with her shoulder, and faintly smiles.
Mairead grabs her bag from the table, which I didn’t even notice when I first arrived. She gives a princess parade wave. “Got to run! I have to meet up my stupid brothers. Text me later, Silver Bullet. Bye Cin Cin!!! I’m glad you're done being grumpy!”
As soon as the door to our apartment closes, I pierce Andrea with a look of dismay and a touch of, what the actual fuck? “Silver Bullet? Cin Cin?!” I mimic.
“I know, I know! It just kind of… happened.” She paces the length of the living room, all while giving me the rundown. Rattling on about how the daft girl saved her, using phrases like, ‘it’s different’ and ‘she gets me.’
“Soooo. This is the first time?”
She halts in place and begins to chew on her lip.
“Oh. Wow… okay. I thought you didn’t like her? You called her crazy… remember?”
She comes to join me on the couch, facing me fully. “She’s like… the ying to my yang.”
I’ve never heard anything so… so sentimental, come out of her mouth. Let alone, something pertaining to a partner. It’s always just been a fling.
“I really like being with her. She’s just wild enough that I don’t need to constantly worry about her. No need for protection.”
I can’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. “Like me?”
Andrea’s eyes widen, her hand extends toward me, and lands on my knee. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”
I can’t help but feel as though I’ve been more of a burden to her, than a friend of her choosing.
Taking her hand in mine, I remind myself to work through these emotions, as opposed to bottling them up.
No more running. I’ve chosen to return. To repair whatever is salvageable.
I refuse to be filled with, What ifs? Constantly questioning if I should have put forth more effort.
I’m putting all my chips on black. I’m all in.
“I’m happy for you.” I say with my whole being. We’re all reshaping our lives. One choice at a time. “But if she hurts you, she’s going to be the one who needs protection,” I proclaim.
Her eyebrow lifts, followed by a playful grin, then she squeezes my hand. “Take it easy killer! Let’s keep it to one cling-wrapped body a year, kapeesh?”
Ugh, is nothing unknown to this woman!
On my bed sat a pair of purple rain boots with a bow. “Surprise,” Andrea sing-songs.
I pull her into a hug. We stay just like that, for long moments.
It wasn’t about shoes but what they represent.
How our friendship is more than just an accessory, but the foundation of the outfit.
I now understand, she wasn’t here because she was expected to be… Andrea stayed because she’s, my friend.
Together we strip the sheets from my bed and unpack my bags.
After everything is put away, we move onto the kitchen, to scrounge up ingredients for dinner.
I was so sick of soup, but was grateful to stay in.
Somehow, vague ingredients of pasta, broth, and expired spices from the shelf became a delicious meal.
Seems like no one has grocery shopped in weeks!
Andrea tells me about all I’ve missed, during my time away. It almost slipped my mind… I reveal the other reason, why I came home. The interview.
“It’s strange… I remember doing a job search, but I don’t recall applying for this. All the same, I’m actually excited."
An indent on Andrea’s previously licked cheek forms as her lips migrate to one side. Her downward cast stare makes me immediately on edge.
“What?” I narrow my gaze, trying to figure out what that look means. “What’d you do, Andrea…?” I cross my arms in response to her obvious, I know something you don’t know, expression.
“Meeeee?” She disputes with a slightly raised voice. “I didn’t do anything. For once. Although, I may happen to know someone who applied to a couple jobs in the area, with the belief you would come back to Southie.”
No. Dax? He did this?
“You know… I see Dax kind of regularly at the boxing club. I started taking lessons there. He’s given me some great pointers.”
I nod, unsure of what to say at the mention of his name. Taking a deep breath in, I ask. “Is he… well?”
Andrea’s mouth forms a straight line, while her eyebrows draw up at the bridge of her nose.
She sets her spoon gently in the bowl, gazing into the empty dish, as if it holds answers.
“He’d be a lot better if you gave him a chance to explain himself.
” Her words are spoken so softly, they weren’t meant to cut but to ignite curiosity.
I run the tip of my thumbnail over my lip, as I think. Focusing on the numbing feeling the perpetual movement caused. “I’ll sleep on it.”
When climbing into my bed, my phone accidentally tumbles to the floor.
My hand reaches down to the floor, feeling for my phone, instead finding something unusual.
My stomach flips. It’s the earbud… with its purple teasing star.
I thought it was gone. Left in the abandoned warehouse where I dropped it.
Placing the white tech into its charging port on the nightstand, my thoughts drift to the songs I’ve heard with this.
The man clad in black. My friendly stalker.
I wasn’t even sure how to approach a conversation with Dax, let alone be in the same room as him. Where do I start?
“I told you I only wanted the truth” or “did you ever plan on telling me that my uncle was your fucking father?!” Both seem a little rocky as a starting point.
Andrea already gave me an idea of when I could see him again.
The Murrays, now including Dax, seeing how Eamon and Mairead are his half siblings, commonly grab a meal together, once a week.
She says I should come to their next one.
It just so happens; there’s one on the same day as my interview.
I told her that I’d try my best to swing by afterwards.
The idea of seeing him is already overwhelming.
Perhaps, having extra buffers in the room was wise, especially with how things were left.
Two days till the interview and the hours seem to drag on and on.
Aside from the essential grocery trip, I stay home.
I am just not ready to bump into anyone, unexpectedly.
Mairead comes over again. Both her and Andrea help me decide on the outfit for my big day.
It is kind of nice. We make a night of it, ordering lukewarm takeout and trying on outfits, nobody in their right mind would leave their home wearing.
When I say, Andrea was mortified in a pink boa and heels…
I mean, she gave us the impression that she may burst into flames if we didn’t insist, she change.
Mairead’s infectious giggle didn’t remedy the vulnerable moment.
I doubt Andrea will ever try pastels again.
The selected outfit for the interview is a long sleeve, cream colored top, and a pair of dress slacks.
Toward the end of the night, Mairead surprises me by producing the bedazzled, Dolphin Jacket, she bought off the mannequin at the Craft Bazaar.
She insists I show them what I’m capable of. The outfit comes together perfectly.
Glimpses of what Andrea likes about the sometimes-unhinged redhead, shows through today. Although, I’m pretty dead set on never participating in another escape room with her, even if the opportunity presents itself.
Twenty minutes ahead of my scheduled interview, I find myself on the curb with a hand on my forehead, attempting to see the top of the enormous office building. Like a child’s first time going to school, I feel swallowed by the sheer size of the place and its ability to make me feel insignificant.
With traffic, it is a solid thirty-minute drive to the sustainable starter company in Chestnut Hill.
I’d either need to buy a car or take the train, nearly doubling my commute time.
Arming my lungs, I let out a smooth calming breath.
One foot in front of the other, I tell myself.
Hiking the strap of my bag higher up onto my shoulder, I enter the building armed with my portfolio from college, various notebooks full of custom designs, and a pathetic excuse for a resume.
Without my permission, my hand reaches up to my right ear, as it has so many times before.
Whenever I find myself anxious or mildly lonely in a crowded room…
the knowledge that I held a tether to someone who had my back, injected me with confidence.
The thing is, I wasn’t wearing it. My fingers skate across the hearing aid in its place, gracing me with the sense I lost long ago.
It’s twisted, really… how I can’t hear while he can’t speak.
Technology makes everything so seamless these days.
Despite endless connectivity, people are more disconnected than ever.
Armed with nothing more than outdated papers and the reminder that I can only thrive by throwing caution to the wind, I straighten my shoulders and press the button in the elevator.