When No One Is Watching(37)
When I step into the living room, I realize I was wrong.
Kim is there, wearing cute little khaki shorts and a silky white shirt that shows she’s still an adherent of “freeing the nipple” and hers are basking in said freedom. Her hair is down around her shoulders in loose waves.
She looks great, all beachy summer fun, but when her gaze passes over mine, it’s coldest winter. The room is freezing, too—she’s gotten an additional air conditioner after giving me shit for wanting one.
I would laugh, if my balls hadn’t drawn up into my body from the look she gives me when her head swivels in my direction.
It’s blank; no happiness, or even disdain. If I’d been a mouse that scampered in, she would have shown more feeling about my presence.
“Hey,” I say awkwardly, tightening the towel around my waist. I glance at the rolling suitcase she’s carefully zipping up. “Going somewhere?”
“My parents said I should come out to their place in the Hamptons,” she says. She has to clarify because they also have a place in Martha’s Vineyard and one on the Carolina coast. “They said it would be smart to get there early before all the Labor Day traffic. It’s super hot there, too, but at least there’s an ocean breeze.”
“Oh. That’s cool.” I hadn’t thought we’d spend the holiday together, but I’d assumed we’d both be miserable separately but in each other’s general vicinity, like we’d spent the last holiday. Miserable is the last thing she’ll be, up in a big fancy house with catered food, a sea breeze, a pool, and—
I really am an asshole. My girlfriend is leaving suddenly, probably cheating on me, and I’m jealous of the lobster rolls and amenities she’s going to enjoy.
“Is he going to be there?” I ask.
“David?” She tilts her head. “That doesn’t really matter, does it? Because when I get back, you’ll be gone.”
She says this so casually I almost don’t catch what she means.
I’m getting kicked out.
I should do something. Get angry. Make a scene. Instead, my hands grip the towel at my waist and I kind of just freeze there like a roach when you turn on the kitchen light.
“What the hell, Kim? Just like that?” I ask, but it’s not really a question, and in reality just like that has been coming on for months.
She sighs, shakes her head. “Look, there’s no point to dragging this out. We clearly have different values and our relationship has been stalled for months. From before we even moved in. We’re both relatively young and—”
“Where am I supposed to live?” I cut her off. My face is hot and I feel ridiculous and exposed: broke, jobless, and half-naked, about to be kicked out of my own house. “I threw most of my savings into moving into this place with you, I’m on the mortgage, and now you think you can—”
“I can kick you out? Yes,” she says, standing her bag up. “I know you’re about to mention tenancy laws or equity or something tedious, but only one of us has a parent who’s a high-powered attorney with detailed knowledge on the matter.”
“You aren’t even going to offer to buy me out?” That’s the real blow. She can afford to do that. She can more than afford it—she doesn’t even need my contribution to the mortgage, but I’d wanted to prove to her that I wasn’t just using her for her money.
I’d wanted to provide, but I’d been the caveman bringing an emaciated hare to our campfire when her family had already downed and preserved a herd of woolly mammoths.
She laughs, one sharp ha. “Why should I? Dad never did like you anyway. I’m sure he’d love a reason to fuck with you some more.”
“You liked me once, though,” I say.
She looks at me like she’s the harried heroine in a romantic comedy and I’m the Joe Blow standing between her and happiness.
“Things change.” A horn honks outside and she shrugs. “Look, I’m giving you a week. It shouldn’t be that hard to find a room somewhere.”
Not when you’re rich and can pass any background check, I imagine.
“Thanks for the last few years. They were good, mostly. But they’re over now, and I’m doing what’s best for me. My therapist told me that I’ll be much happier once my living situation is free of toxic people, so there’s no reason to put it off any longer.”
With that, she strolls out of the living room and out of my life, too, I guess.
“Oh!” Her voice rings out in the hallway. “You can have the leftover wine in the fridge, but don’t fuck up any of my belongings or I’ll make your life hell.”
Then she’s really gone.
I head into the shower, or my body does while my mind starts running through possibilities. I don’t have any friends I can crash with—before her I’d been new to the city and friendless, hanging with my roommates out of convenience. Other than that, I’d mostly had acquaintances I’d lost touch with or who may or may not be in jail somewhere. Mom has never been able to help, so that’s not a possibility.
The chances of ever getting another job like the one I got to make Kim happy are slim to none, and besides, it was too much work. I have other ways of making money fast, which is why I’ll be able to afford a couple months’ rent, but I’d convinced myself I was just making do while times were tough. Am I really just going to fall back into that life again?