He looked surprised. “Are you sure? It’ll just take a second. I’ve got spare linen in the closet, I think. Or I’m sure I can borrow some from Rebecca when I go to pick up Fat Rabbit.”
“It’s fine.” I turned away from him and choked back the tears that were just sneaking up on me. It was too much. Being here. Leaving home. Having no future to count on. Even though I wasn’t alone, I felt more alone than ever.
“Perry,” he whispered behind me. I felt him come closer to me, his energy radiating at my back. My skin prickled and I fought the urge to turn around and bury my head in his chest and cry until there was nothing left. I knew he would hold me for as long as I needed. I knew his touch would put my fears away.
But that fact was scary in itself.
I shook my head and looked up at the lights, blinking hard.
He placed his hand on my shoulder and my nerves instantly calmed, like they were coated with wine. I closed my eyes and a warm tear ran slowly down my cheek.
“Perry,” he said again, softer. His fingers tightened. “Baby, please.”
That word was like a nail into my chest. My reaction was instinctive.
I whirled around at him, my eyes aflame and throwing as much venom as possible.
“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” I spat at him. “I am not that to you. I never was.”
He took a step back, a wash of fright in his eyes. Maybe it was hurt. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sucking back his breath. And for what, it didn’t matter.
“Get out,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Please. Go.”
He hesitated, then nodded and went for the door.
“I’ll go and get Fat Rabbit in a bit,” he told me, pausing in the doorway. I could feel the tension in his body, his muscles unsure whether to move or not. I felt just as torn. As much as I wanted to be alone, I still wanted him to be there too. I just wanted things to go back to the way it was. When he could touch me and it didn’t feel wrong. When I could like the things he said or the way he looked without hating myself for it.
I don’t know if my face betrayed any of that. But his head dropped slightly and his eyes softened with sincerity. “If you need me, you’ll know where I am. The room next door.”
And with that he left, closing the door behind him.
I stood there for at least a few minutes, an empty feeling spreading inside of me. Then I collapsed into the bed with silent tears that led to sleep.
~~~
When I woke up, my eyes were sticking together with dried and clumpy mascara and there was a snuffling sound outside the door. A light spilled in from underneath it, a shadow moving back and forth.
I frowned, momentarily forgetting where I was, and pressed at my forehead, trying to rub out the exhaustion and sleepiness that resided there. I was utterly exhausted from crying myself to sleep, from everything that happened earlier. But it was the good kind of exhausted, where your eyes are puffy and your heart is hard and you don’t feel anything anymore because you’ve already felt it too much. You’re spent. Somehow, mercifully, you just don’t care. Tears and a nap can be the best therapy.
I sat up slowly and took in a deep breath. I needed to hold it together. If I kept dwelling on things, I’d never get out of bed. I made the choice to come to Seattle. I made the choice to leave home. And, I made the original choice to leave Dex back in December. Those had all been in my control and I needed to own those choices.
I listened for signs of Dex outside and heard faint music and cupboards closing in the kitchen. The snuffling outside the door continued. For once, I wasn’t concerned that some ghost or supernatural being was outside. This was no demon. This was Fat Rabbit. And that dog’s face was a sure pick-me-up.
I reached for the door in the darkness and pulled it open to see the pudgy French bulldog’s face turned up at me in a sloppy, tongue-hanging out smile. He came in the room along with the light from the apartment, and immediately started jumping up on my legs and giving me doggy kisses.
“Hey fatty,” I heard Dex call out from the kitchen in a sing-song voice.
I poked my head out and looked at him. I had to blink twice to get my sight right. Dex was dancing in front of the stove to Depeche Mode’s “Personal Jesus”, a too-tiny apron wrapped around him, looking utterly ridiculous as he ground pepper into a steaming pot. The minute he saw me, he froze, pepper mill in mid-grind, then calmly turned down the volume on the music player.
I tried to stifle my amusement. “Were you talking to me?”
He gave me a wry look and went back to grinding. “No. Naturally Fat Rabbit’s name is just Fatty now. Fatty Rab, if I’m being more formal.”
“Naturally,” I mused, looking down at the adoring dog who was looking a bit plumper. He obviously wasn’t on the same diet as Dex.
I walked tentatively toward him, peering at his apron.
“Kiss the cook,” I read it out loud. “Classic.”
He looked down at himself and grinned. “It’s more of a suggestion than a command.”
“That’s insinuating you can cook,” I told him as I looked into the pot.
“It’s mac and cheese with cut up hotdogs,” he said, wagging his eyebrow. “Another classic.”
“Huh,” I said and sat down at the barstool. “Is that your dinner?”