By the time six o’clock rolls around, I am absolutely exhausted. This morning Matt asked me about what David and I ended up doing on Friday afternoon. I told him about the tattoo, and he laughed and said that he thinks I got off pretty easy. I smiled at him and said that he hasn’t seen how big the damn thing is. He could tell that I wasn’t myself today and asked me twice if I was feeling under the weather. I told him that I was just tired because it was a busy weekend. I am glad the day is over.
Matt and I ride the elevator down together. I haven’t heard from David all day, nor have I contacted him. As the numbers on the elevator display drop closer to the bottom floor, I start to feel my heart rise up in my throat. By the time we reach the lobby, I think I might cry. I close my eyes briefly as the door opens and take a deep breath before stepping out. Matt pulls me aside just before we get to the exit door.
“Are you all right?” he says. “And don’t tell me again that you’re just tired.”
I smile softly at him, willing my stupid self not to cry. “I’ve been hungover all day and I’m exhausted, and David and I had a fight last night, and I’m mad at myself and I’m furious at him. I don’t know what to do next.”
“Ahhh,” he says, tipping his head back. “A lover’s quarrel and a hangover. That’s a bad combination right there.”
“Yep,” I say sadly.
“You guys will figure it out. David can get a little rough when he drinks, but he’ll apologize. He always does. He’s more than familiar with drunk assholes because of his father, but thankfully, he can recognize when he’s been one. He’s a good guy. Just forgive him. He can’t help it. It’s genetic.” Matt smiles and shrugs when he says the last two words. Everything he said is ringing in my ears.
“Fuck me,” I say quietly to myself, and then I look up at Matt. “He wasn’t the drunk asshole. I was. And he walked out on me because I was angry about something, and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting to punish him for it. I didn’t remember about his father.”
Matt purses his lips and nods, letting out a small, understanding grunt. “I’m sure everything will be all right.” He pauses for a moment, then straightens the bag on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Emma. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, giving him a small smile.
Matt goes out the door, and I follow a few steps behind. I am nearly at the bus shelter when I see David’s car. He is double-parked in his favorite spot, leaning against the front fender. When he sees me, he lifts his hand in a small wave, and I stop in my tracks. I reach into my purse and pull out my phone. We are only thirty paces away from each other, but instead of waking over to him, I send him a text.
Hi.
I watch him put his hand into his pocket and pull out his phone.
Hi back.
Thanks for the ride.
Does that mean you’ll accept it?
Yes.
Then why r u all the way over there?
Because I’m embarrassed.
About?
Last night.
Me too.
Thanks for coming back.
Yep.
Did you have to hold my hair?
Yep.
I’ll bet it was quite a sight.
Yep.
Are you mad?
No. R u?
Not anymore. But we have to talk.
I know. And I’m ready.
Okay.
Do u still love me?
When I read his question, I lift my head immediately and look over at him. His face is smothered with worry. He is holding his phone with both hands. Staring at it. Waiting for my reply.
Like an outta control circus freak.
His face lightens, and he looks up at me, smiling one big-ass smile. I close my phone and run to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my body to his.
* * *
We ride back to the apartment building in silence, I think because neither of us knows how to start the conversation. We walk up to my apartment holding hands.
“I’ll be out in a second,” I tell him as I walk to my bedroom. “I just want to change. You can help yourself to something from the fridge, if you want.”
“Okay.” It is the first thing he’s said out loud to me since last night.
In my bedroom, there is a brand-new window where the plywood was, and I smile when I see it. After I change, I walk back out to the living room. David is sitting on the couch with one leg crossed over the other, drinking a can of Coke. There is another one on the coffee table.
“Thanks for fixing my window,” I say as I sit down next to him and reach for the can.
“Yep.” Then, after a few seconds, he asks, “When did you do that?”