“Ar, I know this is awkward.” She’s speaking just above a whisper, but Josh can hear the tender inflection of her tone. “But we’re really hoping you’ll sign the documents this week. It’s so much easier for all of us to do this uncontested. And you’ll return the broker’s calls?”
“Okay,” Ari says, barely audible.
He grips the handle of the basket almost hard enough to break the plastic, waiting for the bomb to explode. She can have until the count of three to tell her ex tofuck off.
Cass’s fingers stay pressed into Ari’s shoulder, as if she still has some claim. Some right to be there. “I hope you’re okay. If you need anything…”
Three…
Two…
“She’s fine,” Josh snaps.
They both turn their heads accusingly, as if he’d interruptedtheirmoment.
What happens when Ari needs something? Who does she call? Who’s been picking up the fucking pieces?Fuck this presumptuous—
“In that case,” Cass says, turning back to Ari, “you should stop texting me. No more…pictures, okay?”
The way she sayspicturessends Josh’s mind spinning in twelve directions.
Ari nods, defeated. Her eyes don’t seem to be focusing on anything.
Cass gives Ari’s shoulder a final squeeze as she takes a step past her. Josh is about to let himself exhale when she pauses and turns around, her face now just an irksome inch above his. Must be the heels of her boots.
“Oh, and, Josh? I’ll give you a tip. Eating pussy should be the main event, not a three-minute warm-up.”
Six semi-formed comebacks fail to fully materialize in his brain. He blinks dumbly, watching Cass walk away.
Ari reaches past him, pressing the elevator button. It groans to life from the floor below.
There’d been no outburst. No argument. She’d passively absorbed everything that came out of that woman’s mouth: the false comfort, the performance of kindness, even the judgment.
“Let’s go,” she says, her voice carefully modulated in that indifferent tone that drives him fucking insane.
The shock of the whole encounter wears off into something sinister. She’d seemed almost…embarrassed to be seen with him.
“What about the books you picked out?”
“What do I need books for?” she snaps. Her cheeks are crimson. “I don’t have shelves. I have a move-out date.”
“I can keep them—”
“No!” Ari doesn’t look at him. She’s staring straight ahead, face red. “I don’t want your help. I don’t want the books. I want to go home.” Eventually, the elevator door creaks open. “Except ‘home’ just reminds me of…that.”
He sets the basket down, abandoning it to the Rare Book Room, and follows her into the elevator.
“Then let’s go to Veselka. You wanted pierogis.”
She lets out an aggravated sigh, which Josh takes as a “yes.” If he sticks to the script, a normal activity—something they do all the time—he could stabilize the situation.
They stand in the same positions as before but now everything’s changed around them, like the elevator is some kind of emotional teleportation torture device. Maybe he’ll encounter Sophie chatting with the ghost of his father on the first floor.
When the door opens again, it’s a random couple waiting to get on, holding hands and laughing about something that’s only funny to them. They’re locked in their own little bubble, oblivious to the disaster that occurred three flights up.
—
JOSH CAN HEAR ARI’S FOOTtapping on the floor in no discernible pattern, even though Veselka is noisy tonight. She turns the laminated menu back and forth.
