The Pact(52)

But when she showed up at the office on Monday morning, after having spent Sunday night alone to “have some time to think” as she had said, she was in tears.

It turns out that she had gotten a notice that morning before she left for work that her building was condemned and that she’d have to move out immediately. She lives all the hell out in Emeryville, in this old Victorian house that was split into six apartments. She was renting too, so it was as much news to her landlords as it was for her but unfortunately nothing could be done about it, at least not until the structural integrity of the building is looked at more closely and repairs could be made, if its even possible.

Well I couldn’t fucking break up with her now, not when she was potentially homeless. So I rubbed her back as she cried at her desk before I was called out to fly a man out from Oakland all the way to Redding and when I got back she had told me none of her friends could take her in, that she didn’t have enough money in savings and that her parents were out of the question since they lived in Livermore and it was way too far to commute.

Suffice to say, she was fucked and I was fucked.

So I had to do what any boyfriend would do, let alone any decent man, and I said she could move in with me until the situation got straightened out.

I had stressed the whole “until” part of the arrangement but that just went straight over her head. Suddenly she’s calling everyone she knows, telling them she’s moving in with me.

I wanted to warn her against putting it on Facebook but she did anyway.

And that’s when I saw Steph’s text.

She must think that every single thing I told her about wanting to be with her was an absolute lie. I do my best to get a conversation going, texting her Talk to me and Let me explain but it all goes unread.

By mid-week, Nadine has settled a little too comfortably in my flat – it seems half of my framed black and white helicopter photographs have been replaced by IKEA prints of Audrey Hepburn and Brooklyn Bridges – and I manage to sneak out to the Lion for a drink. James is busy working but Penny is at the bar, so I end up talking to her.

“So she moved in with you, huh?” Penny says dryly as she sucks a maraschino cherry in her mouth.

“I didn’t really have a choice,” I say with a sigh. “She had nowhere to go.”

“How noble of you.” She pauses. “Did you hear that Steph broke up with Aaron?”

And now my heart goes absolutely cold. “She what?”

“Yep. Kicked him to the curb on Sunday night. Seems that our little weekend away really put that last nail in the coffin. I saw it coming of course but I didn’t think Aaron was all that bothered by your little makeout session. Or maybe it wasn’t that at all…”

I lean over and reach behind the bar, searching for a bottle of something, anything. My glass is dry and I can’t think at all.

Penny slides her Manhattan my way. “Here, this will help.”

I slam it back into my mouth and try to breathe. “She actually broke up with him?”

She nods. “Yup. Didn’t you guys have some sort of pact?”

That fucking pact.

She takes the glass back from me. “But I guess it doesn’t really matter if you’re still with Nadine, huh. Funny how life just kind of screws with you sometimes.”

Then she gets up and goes to the washroom. James is busy chatting with customers so I quickly get up and leave. I can’t talk to him right now. I can’t really talk to anyone.

But I know what I have to do, even though it’s about to make me an even bigger asshole than I already am.

The next night I break up with Nadine, but only after I have secured a place for her. It’s in Marin Country so she’ll be close to work, I’ve paid for a month’s rent so she won’t have to worry and I tell her I’ve got another moving van arranged for the weekend to get her stuff out of storage.

I get punched in the face. Like, right on my fucking cheekbone.

I guess I deserve that too, but I don’t know what else to say. I know I’m a fucking dick for breaking up with someone who’s just been evicted. I know it but I can’t help it. I can’t let Stephanie, the opportunity to be with her, slip through my fingers. Not now, not after all these years of hit or miss and bad timing.

Nadine isn’t shy about letting me know how she feels. Her words are more vicious than her fist.

“You think you can buy me off?” she yells at me, picking up a frame that holds a picture of us in it. “You think that because you’re some rich snot with important parents that you can just buy me a little apartment and tuck me away somewhere?”

“I’m just trying to help,” I tell her, raising my hands in surrender. I have a feeling that picture is going to come flying toward my face.