“I insist. No offence, but you look like you could use a break. I can’t risk you going knife happy in my bar and taking your frustration out on more than some lemons.”
“The lemons deserved it.”
“I’m sure they did. You have the spare key for my place, right? I’ll be home around suppertime. Roxanne wants to call us about bridesmaid plans and rehearsal dinner stuff. I can’t believe how close the wedding is. I was thinking you and I could watch a movie after that, though?”
“Aww, cute! Date night!” I bounce on my feet a little. “And I can’t believe it’s so soon either. We should watch some romantic comedy about weddings to get in the mood.”
I say goodbye to the rest of the staff after grabbing my stuff and head out. Monroe’s place is only a few blocks away, and I decide to stop at the grocery store along the way and pick up what I need to make my famous chili recipe. I get a roll of cookie dough too. If we’re having date night, we’re going all out.
Two hours later, the chili is simmering on the stove and I’m having a dance party in Monroe’s kitchen while I decide which of her fancy teas to try. She has so much tea. I didn’t even know this many kinds of tea existed until the first time I came over. She has almost as many mugs as she does flavors of tea, and I ask her to give me a different one every time I visit. I’ve been drinking tea all week, and I don’t think I’ve even made it through half of them.
“Never close your lips to those whom you have already opened your heart,” I read off the blue and purple mug I pick. The words are written in swirly letters on the side. “Charles Dickens.”
Monroe is in love with Charles Dickens. She has a big painting of him on her living room wall. It’s kind of creepy.
I pour a cup of tea called ‘blueberry muffin blast’ and stir the chili again, singing along with Cyndi Lauper while I swivel my hips. “Oh, girls just want to have fun!”
When I was a kid, this was my favourite music video ever. One Christmas, I spent the whole month of December begging mymamanto buy me Dance Dance Revolution. A few of the kids on my block had it, and I thought they might come over to my house more if we had it too.
I was really fucking good at it. I always played the extra hard level, and Ialwayschose ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ when it was my turn to pick the song. I would jump around on the mat watching Cyndi Lauper dance up her street in her crazy outfit, wanting to be just like her. She didn’t look like anything could make her sad; she’d just put on one of her pink skirts and her weird little hats and head out on an adventure.
“Doot do do doot do,” I sing along with the music as I turn the stove down and head into Monroe’s living room with my tea.
There are books everywhere: on shelves, stacked in piles along the wall, and scattered all over the coffee table. I move a couple over so I can sit on the couch.
Since Monroe won’t be home for another hour or so, I open up my laptop and find something to watch.
Two and a half hours go by before she sends a message
So sorry! Running a little late with paperwork. I’ll be home by seven at the latest. Do you want to order something for dinner?
It’s not a big deal. I knew she’d stay late; she almost always does. She’s only a few blocks away, and the sun sets so late now it won’t even be that dark by seven. She’ll be fine.
Everything will be fine.
I text her to let her know I made chili and that I’m calling dibs on picking the movie. I try to get back into my show after that, but even with the French subtitles on, I can’t pay attention to what the people are saying.
All I can hear is the creaking of the old building and the occasional thump or bang of someone moving around next door. Monroe doesn’t have a clock on her wall, but it’s so quiet in here I can hear my brain goingtic-tock, tic-tock.
Clém and I had a wall clock in our apartment in Trois-Rivières. The place came with furniture, and the clock was there when we moved in. It was just a plain, cheap plastic one like they have in classrooms at school.
I sat there watching it for hours and hours the night she didn’t come home. I stared at the numbers for so long they became a blur, but I could still hear thatmauditsound:
Tic-tock. Tic-tock. Tic-tock.
It got so loud it felt like I was standing in a cave and the noise was bouncing off all the walls, hitting my ears over and over and over again until all I wanted to do was scream.
I turn the volume up on my laptop as high as it will go. I’m not even trying to watch the show anymore, but the sound of voices helps calm me down. I grab my phone off the table and type ‘funny memes’ into Google. I’m just about to send one to Zach when I remember.
We aren’t texting anymore.
This is exactly what I was afraid of. This is why I put my hand over his mouth and pushed him away when all I wanted to do was cover his lips with mine and pull him down on top of me on his couch.
I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to lose anyone again, and it’s tearing my heart into pieces to think that maybe I already have.
Eleven
DeeDee
