CHAPTER 46
Alone in my apartment, I get a good look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I’m not a chick, but when I dreamed of reuniting with my long-lost love, something I never believed would happen, I didn’t imagine myself looking like utter shit... or smelling like it. I sniff my pit and recoil from the stench.
The last time I left the apartment was when I taught capoeira three days ago. And that might be the last time I showered. The fact that I cannot remember is a problem. Functioning at the bare minimum is the real problem these days.
Before I face Cait again, I need to look and smell presentable. I shower and rush around the apartment to dress. I stop and peek out the window to catch a glimpse of her. Yes, she’s really fucking here. Before I step outside my apartment, I pause to take a breath to gather my wits. What must she think of me already? What will I do when I face her again? What the hell will I say? “Hey, remember me? We used to be in love.”
Fuck Linden for doing this, for forcing me to face her a second time. I’ll have it out with him later, but for now I need to be near her again. I open the door and step outside into the sunny October morning. They’re chatting at the bottom of the steps.
“See, told you he just needed some caffeine,” Linden says to Cait before glancing at his watch. “I’m running late for a meeting, but Evan will help you with anything you need this weekend.”
Very convenient, asshole.
Linden’s driver opens the back door of his sedan and he slides inside. Before he drives away, the darkened window rolls down. From inside, Linden says, “See you Monday morning, Cait.”
“Looking forward to it.” She waves.
We’re alone and staring at each other. What I want to say is on the edge of my lips. It’s been there for years. A speech I prepared long ago when I approached her before. How can I explain I loved her but her parents did everything in their power to keep us apart? That I’m sorry I didn’t fight hard enough. They wanted her to forget me, and they won. I hate myself for giving her space, but when I realized my epic fuck-up, it was too late. There was too much time between us. I never should have stopped trying, and I’ve regretted it all this time. Looking into her eyes now, I know I won’t tell her those things. It’s still not the right time and it may never be.
She clears her throat. How much time has passed? Have I zoned for too long, all the while staring at her like a creepster?
“Seriously, you don’t have to help. This has to be the last thing you want to do on a Friday morning. I’ll be fine,” Cait says.
“You’re carrying that mattress up the stairs by yourself?” I point to the queen-size set packed inside the truck.
“I’ll use the elevator.” She shrugs.
I laugh. “You haven’t seen the apartment, have you?”
“No, well, photos. But that’s it,” she admits. “Everything happened so fast.”
“Unfortunately for both of us, there’s no elevator.”
“Oh.”
“And you’re on the sixth floor.”
“I see.” Her voice deflates further.
“So you kind of need me and these monster muscles.” I flex my biceps, expecting her to laugh the way she used to, but she appears too deep in thought to notice I’m joking with her. My arms relax when my smile fades.
She snaps out of it and proposes a new plan. “Maybe if you help with that one thing, I can get everything else?”
This part of her remains the same. Never wanting to put anyone out and always prepared to do everything herself. She was always independent to a fault.
“Listen, I’m already here. Let’s just get it over with.” I stack three boxes, nudge them to the edge of the bed of the truck, lift them, and head inside before she can protest.
“You can repay me by buying me deep dish.” I turn at the top of the stoop. I wait for her reaction but it never comes. She’s zoning out again.
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Pizza.” And it used to be our favorite after-hours meal. Something she wouldn’t remember. I haven’t even touched it since she left. I don’t know why I thought she’d remember this when she remembers nothing else.
“Yeah, sure,” she says with little emotion.
This is how the day progresses. With me doing anything to make her smile. A lost cause, it seems. If she does, it’s the wrong smile. What I learn is Cait isn’t the same person, so I shift gears to stop torturing myself.
“So why Chicago?” I settle a box on the counter in the kitchen.
“Why do you live here?”
“Family. Friends. It’s my home. I like it. I have my reasons, I guess.”
“I like it too.”
“You’ve been here for three hours.”
“I have my reasons: no friends, no family, it’s someplace other than home,” she shoots back.
She’s not only happy about this prospect, but she’s running away from everything and everyone in her life. Again.
“You don’t know anyone here?” I hedge as we make our way back down the stairs for the final load.
“No one. It’s a fresh start. A reboot. That’s what I was looking for.”
“Kind of crazy to move here from Maryland and not know anyone.”
“How did you know I lived in Maryland?” She stops.
I pause mid-step. Crap. I mentioned something we hadn’t discussed. It’s the second time today. I say, “Linden.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“Everything?” The word comes out more as a question. It’s the only way I can cover myself, unless I mention something they never discussed in their interview process. I add, “We’re tight like that.”
“I couldn’t tell by the fighting.”
She heard that? But how much?
“He thinks he can fix my life. I beg to differ.” That about covers everything. Mostly.
“Family is like that. I’m told it means they care, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.”
“Tell me about it.” Linden may be an asshole at times but her parents’ photos are posted on the Wikipedia-asshole page.
I remove the final boxes and she shuts the back door of the truck. I carry them upstairs and settle them on the floor. She gets us some water with some paper cups left by the prior tenant. After a sip, she shivers and moves to close the front window. On the floor, she finds a backpack and fishes out a black T-shirt. She shrugs it over her tank. I almost pass out when I see what it says. It’s the same shirt I bought her the first time I took her to see The Cure.