Paige
REMIX: An alternate version of a song that introduces new elements or alterations
The next fewdays alternate between flying by and dragging on for eternity. My bruising has calmed down enough for me to leave the apartment and go for walks, but there’s not much else to fill my time with besides catching up on new music, watching Netflix, and making fumbling attempts at graphic design that have forced me to accept it’s going to be a while before I can take on any new projects.
I also sleep a lot. At minimum, I make it through half the day before my body decides to sabotage me with its newfound need for naps.
On the day Zach is supposed to get back, I watch Youssef put on his shoes and jacket in the entryway after his morning check-in, totally unsure of what to say.
I haven’t been sure of what to say to him since he heard ‘When the Lights Come On.’ Something shifted between us, something I can’t put back where it was no matter how hard I try. He knocked down a layer of my defences, the one that let me tell myself I could ‘move forward’ and leave him behind.
There are things I need to say. There are things I need to hear him say. I want an explanation, but I haven’t figured out how to ask for one, or how to face the pain it’s going to bring.
“So Zach should be good to do dinner tonight,” I say after a couple moments of silence. “I texted him about the accident, so he knows what’s going on.”
Youssef straightens up from tying his shoes and nods. “Cool.”
“I, um...I know I’m kind of an asshole, especially about the whole needing help thing. As much as it pains me to say it, I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thank you so much.”
He smiles, but there’s a heaviness to him, one that presses down on me too. This is feeling more and more like a goodbye.
“It was my pleasure, even when you were an asshole.”
“So now...”
“So now,” he repeats when I don’t go on.
“Yeah, um, I don’t know. This feels like the end of a journey or something.”
He nods again. Neither of us moves.
“I was thinking,” he begins after clearing his throat, “maybe we could have a meeting about the gigs. There are still some details we should go over, and my manager will probably have stuff for us to cover too.”
He does that scratching the back of his neck thing, and my heart leaps into my throat for a second.
“Day after tomorrow good?” I ask, a little hoarsely.
“That would be great.” He takes a step closer to the door. “You know you can call me whenever, if you need something. I know your roommate can do stuff now, but I mean it.”
“Yeah, you’ve gotta make sure your wedding associate is in acceptable condition in two weeks.”
“Wedding associate.” He shakes his head and laughs, and I join in while he opens the door.
“But really,” I add just as he steps into the hall. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do any of that.”
He stares at me for a moment, searching.
“I did,” he finally says. “You know I did.”
I could reach him in just a few steps. I could cup his cheek in my hand and bring his face down to mine. I could tell him I know exactly what he means.
Instead, I just say goodbye.
* * *
Zachand I share a meal of Kraft Dinner that night while sitting on the couch. I try to pretend we’re enjoying one of the roomie hang-out evenings we’ve been having from time to time now that he seems less terrified to share an apartment with me, but my sling makes it hard to ignore the fact that I’m currently incapable of cooking for myself.
“I just can’t believe you gothit by a car,” he says between bites of the packaged mac n’ cheese. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us right away.”
