Chapter 43
On top of ghosting Felix once again, and once again failing to come clean about everything, now I'm grappling with the real possibility that stealing Leo Steger's lawn gnome caused him so much trauma that it induced a form of war-memory-infused dementia.
Thankfully, I've got to grab Roland's medications and feed Arachnodesiac on the way. I've come to appreciate my relationship with that spider. All he wants is to eat crickets and try to kill me through his glass wall. It's the most stable relationship I have.
When I get to Roland's, Mrs. Park opens the door. I hand her the pharmacy bag, but she rejects it and tells me she's busy and I can go bring it to Roland himself.
“I'm about to take my husband to the airport, then I have to go into work.” She sticks her head in another room. “Do you have your adapter plug for Germany, Hal?” He doesn't answer. She frowns and leads me to Roland's room.
“Roland told me about your parents. Horrible. I'm very sorry about that,” she says, disappearing into another room. “Enjoy the day.”
“Thank you,” I manage in a tone that comes off more like a question. Fucking weirdo.
I knock on Roland's door before entering. He's on his computer, so I place the bag on his bed.
“Thanks,” he says.
“No problem. See you in a few days.”
Right as I'm almost out of there, he speaks again.
“So did you ask Felix to prom?”
“No. Why?”
“You said you would. I was just curious.”
“I'm going to this week at school.”
“Oh, I just thought—because you said it was going to be the next time you saw him.” Why is he pushing this? I'm starting to get annoyed.
“He's going to some wrestling show with his dad tonight, which is weird since they hate each other. So I guess I'll be spending this evening at the movies by myself. What about you?”
“Uh, just hanging out here. The usual.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah, you know.”
There's a weird silence where we're just staring at each other.
I force a smile and give a lukewarm salute, and he tells me bye.
Their housekeeper walks past me with a pile of folded shirts and says hello before placing them on his bed.
Maybe it's the voices of my ancestors telling me to or just my chaotic nosiness, but I peek in the direction of the shirts as I walk out, and almost trip on myself when I see it.
On top is an Xtreme Wrestling Xtravaganza shirt.
I'm sprinting so fast I almost crash into one of Mrs. Park's prized vases on my way out. The first thing I do after I start my van is check for tickets to the event. The whole thing is sold out.
“You don't understand,” I scream at the phone. I have to go. I have to see them together, because I have to see for myself that they're lying to me and getting together behind my back.
There's only one way I'm going to be able to go, and thinking about it liquefies my organs.