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As he gallantly tiptoes between chocolates to come to my aid, I burst out laughing like a bloody fool. I can see in the oval mirror on the opposite wall, that my face is smudged to hell. I look like a zombie that didn’t even get to sleep before resurrection. At the oddest moment, as Quade stares in confusion, I replace his face with the image of Bo that appears to me whenever I hear his voice. And suddenly I’m grounded, like none of today’s events ever happened.
“Quade,” I begin with the steadiness of a slow train, “I’m fine. And you…are early. I do not owe you any explanation regarding why I’m bathing in a tub full of melting chocolate balls, do I?” He begins to rise and back away from the tub, looking disproportionately wounded. “It’s my business what I do in my home by myself, isn’t it?”
“But Cookie…what are you—”
“And right now I’m in my home by myself, aren’t I? Because I don’t have any company tonight until eight o’clock. Otherwise,” I continue, suddenly raising my voice, “I wouldn’t be sitting naked in my private bubble bath, would I Quade?” Radio silence. “Would I?”
“Okay, hold up Cookie,” he says, putting his palms out in front like he’s trying to whoa a horse.
“No you hold up, Quade! This is my bathroom, I’m sitting in my bathtub, and you’re not invited in my house until eight o’clock. It’s as simple as that!” I yell, brandishing my arms wildly and unwittingly releasing my boobs. Automatically his gaze rivets on them. “Quade!” I splash my fists into the tub, sending another slosh of frothy water and chocolate balls onto the floor.
“Okay okay, sorry. I’ll just go…wait somewhere else until eight,” he says as he ducks out of the bathroom looking devastated. “I’ll be sitting in the dining room then,” he belts out as I hear him start down the staircase.
Now too far away for me to make a reasonable protest, I sit in my tub fuming. I should never have let him have the last word. I should have requested he sit in his car, or out on the damn deck at least. Now he’s down there lurking in my house, twiddling his thumbs while he waits for me to finish taking my relaxing bath. Again my veins are surging with the new, unfamiliar feeling I keep getting around Quade. I can no longer imagine sitting in front of a movie with him tonight. I want him out, out, out…
I close my eyes and take five deep breaths, remembering what happened to me earlier. How humiliating if that should happen now, and Quade were to come up here and have to rescue my naked body from drowning in the tub. I must hold myself together.
I hop out and grab a clean towel, shuttering over the full unacceptability of the situation and feeling powerless in a way I’m unaccustomed to. I throw on a shapeless, green lounge suit and proceed downstairs forty-five minutes early. I may as well accept my fate and enjoy the rest of the evening. Quade is my long-time best friend, after all. I have no idea what’s got me so bitchy and paranoid lately.
“Hey,” I say calmly, as I walk past Quade and grab a broom and dustpan. “Yeah…” I can see the question in his eyes. “I dropped some chocolates earlier. Little cleanup job to do up there.”
“Please, allow me,” he says, gently taking the cleaning articles and heading toward the stairs. “After you.” He waits patiently as I lead him up the stairs, feeling like quite the ass for freaking out on him before.
As we enter my bedroom, I turn to address him about the situation but am halted by his smirky grin. “What?” I demand.
“Nothing, nothing,” he replies, shaking his head but still grinning.
“Here.” I snatch the broom and pan and quickly begin scooping in the balls that are still on dry areas of the floor. Then I use an old towel to mop up the chocolatey mush-water directly around the tub. The mess inside the tub can wait. I stand up and turn to find Quade leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, still watching me with a grin. Now I’d like to slap him.
“So, what did you have in mind for a movie?” I ask instead, unable to hide my irritation.
“Oh, I haven’t thought about it really. There’s a family drama that looks interesting…Disobedience.”
“Hmm, never heard of it.” I’m aware I sound minimally cooperative, but I can’t help myself.
“Well, would you like to pick?”
“No. No…Disobedience, whatever. Sounds fine.”
“Are you sure?” he asks like the sweetie that he is.
“Yes, sounds good. I’ll get the popper started while you find it,” I respond, already feeling better about myself for making some little effort.
I reach around the kitchen for a minute, gathering salt and butter, then pour corn into the machine and turn it on to wait. Impatiently tapping my nails on the counter, I watch the corn in a daze…trying not to think about anything that might make me hostile or emotional. So, nothing. Suddenly feeling a cloud of discomfort hanging over me, I peek over my shoulder and there’s Quade standing at the end of the kitchen with his arms crossed…looking smug again.
“Did you find it?” I ask to divert whatever weird energy’s building up in the room.
“Yeah, uhh…do you wanna watch it in the den, or—”
“Den’s fine,” I cut in.
“How about the loft? Wanna watch it up there maybe?”
“The den’s fine.” He’s giving me a disappointed look. “I just don’t feel like going up and down stairs all night,” I offer as a half-assed explanation.
Defeated, he takes the bowl of popcorn. We traipse down the hall behind the staircase and enter the amply comfortable den, setting the bowl in the center of the oak coffee table. Quade already has the film pulled up on the screen, and we sit down on opposite ends of the couch.
My usual position is to lean into the corner and stretch my legs across the cushions, but I hesitate tonight. I know he’ll grab my feet and start massaging, and I still don’t feel comfortable with Quade’s new habit of barging in. I want space, and I’m willing to sacrifice his humdrum foot massage in order to get it.
