Chapter 2
Denise
Isaac’s front porch is a refuge from the basement. The warm morning sun on my skin and the blissful silence away from Matt’s loud video game makes me feel a hundred times better.
I trace my thumb along the ridges of the front door key. I’m supposed to put Isaac’s delivery inside after signing for it, but he won’t mind if I wait in the house. He already said I could stay there if I wanted space from Matt.
When I let myself in, it’s like Isaac is still here. The fading scent of his woodsy cologne lingers in the air. I breathe it in and imagine him standing close to me. Complicated feelings I never acknowledge rise to the surface. I push them back down, slip off my shoes, and wander through the house.
It’s clean and spacious. The dark leathers and woods give it a masculine vibe. It’s nice, but his old house was warmer, more inviting. Though that was back when he had a warmer personality too.
In the kitchen, I caress the granite countertop, taking in the sleek appliances and the openness of the ground floor.
I can’t help feeling envious. Isaac is thirty-six, fifteen years older than me.
He seems more like an adult than I’ll ever be.
At my age, he already had a decent job, a car, and an apartment he could afford on his own.
Meanwhile, I’m struggling to balance my life like I’m riding a tricycle with one wobbly wheel.
I head back to the living room and sink into the dark grey leather sofa. Something hot pink wedged between the cushions catches my eye, its colour out of place in a room of dark tones.
Is that a pair of panties? Ewww.
I’m dismayed, disgusted, disappointed. Though, why would I feel disappointed that Isaac got laid?
It’s not as if I missed a chance to have him, or even wanted one at all.
He’s like a brother to me, and I have a boyfriend.
Also, it’s been three years since Camille’s tragic death.
I’m sure it’s been hard for him to put himself out there again. I should be happy for him.
“Good for you, Isaac,” I say, though the words feel hollow.
I edge away from The Thing That Looks Like A Thong, but curiosity gets the better of me. I need to confirm my suspicion. My upper lip curled, I pinch the fabric with the tips of my fingers and tug it free. I let out a soft laugh. It’s not a thong, it’s my scrunchie!
How did he get this?
I turn the ruffled hair tie over my fingers. It’s one of my favourites. When it disappeared a few days ago, I searched everywhere for it. Isaac must have found it and forgot to give it back.
A muffled trill breaks the quiet. I toss the scrunchie on the glass coffee table and pull out my phone.
“You win some, you lose some,” June says when I answer. There’s a familiar rumble and hiss of a bus in the background. She must be on her way to work.
I smile. “What did you win?”
“Twenty dollars from a scratch card.”
“That’s nice. Lucky you.”
“Want to know what I lost?”
“The twenty dollars you won because you bought more scratch cards with it?”
“Yeah, and a boyfriend too.”
My smile falls. “What happened?”
“Tyler’s been sexting other women. He swears he didn’t sleep with any of them. Part of me believes him, but part of me doesn’t, so I dumped him.”
“Damn, that sucks. I’m sorry. He seemed like such a sweet guy.”
“He is, but clearly he likes giving away the sugar to other girls like he’s a candy man.
” We share a laugh and then she continues in a sadder tone.
“I was starting to fall in love with the jerk, but I couldn’t risk being with him.
Not after seeing what my cheating father put my mother through for years.
Even if it is just sexting, it’s only a matter of time before he goes all the way.
When you see red flags, you run. Don’t wait around and hope they disappear or that maybe you can paint them green or whatever. You know what I mean?”
We talk some more until we end the call when she’s at her stop.
I recline on the sofa, my mind on June. We were in the same class in high school, but we ran in different circles.
June and I became good friends when we ended up living in the same apartment building and started seeing each other regularly.
When you see red flags, you run.
June was talking about herself, but it feels like a warning too.
Good advice that applies to my relationship with Matt even if I don’t want to accept it.
I’m not ready yet. Matt and I depend on each other.
He won’t survive on his own without me, and the thought of leaving him feels like abandoning safety for the scary unknown.
My phone beeps twice with text messages. They’re from Matt, as if he senses I’m thinking about him.
Baby wehee r u
wheree
In Isaac’s house, I text back, then immediately regret it. He might want to come up here. I should’ve told him I’m out on a walk instead.
Why u there
I’m collecting a delivery for him.
I got a big long delievry u cna collevt ;)
My face remains deadly straight as I reply with a laugh and a heart emoji, then silence my phone.
It’s my day off from work and I can’t enjoy it in my own space. Once again, Matt is jobless, so unless he’s out with friends, he’s always home. Always there. Making his presence impossible to ignore.
Isaac’s basement was a godsend when landlords kept rejecting us because of our poor credit scores, my low income as a new hairstylist, and Matt’s unemployment.
Six months later, the studio feels like a prison cell, and I’m not sure if Matt is my cellmate or the warden.
It’s terrible to think this way. If you love someone, aren’t you supposed to always enjoy being around them?
I close my eyes, letting my mind drift. The sofa is so comfortable, I barely notice I’m slipping into a light doze until loud pounding jerks me upright.