He’d been wearing a black T-shirt when I met him.Figuring he liked black, I put on my black pants and long-sleeve shirt.Then I shaved again and spent fifteen minutes getting my hair to sit right.After that, no way was I wearing a hat.Or a coat.After all, it was Toronto February, not Timmins February.And maybe I was hoping to impress him.
I surveyed myself in the mirror.My nose tipped up at the end.My sister called it a “girlie nose.”My last girlfriend, who was into jocks, told me it looked like the nose of some pro tennis player I’d never heard of.I didn’t know if she meant it as a compliment, and I didn’t ask.She dumped me for a guy on the varsity basketball team.He had a straight nose, so, whatever.
My phone rang.Thinking it was him, even though I hadn’t given him my number, I pounced on it.
It wasn’t him.It was my best friend, Bexley.
“Wanna come over?”he said.
“Can’t.I’m going to a club tonight with someone from work.”
“Who?”
“Trish.”
“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?”Bex remembered everything I told him, which was usually handy but sometimes, like now, really awkward.
“He’s coming too.”
“Huh,” said Bexley, and he let that sit for a beat.“Just.Be careful, man.”
Which was good advice, even though he didn’t know why.
Before I left, I looked in the mirror again, the way I used to when I’d psyche myself up before a dance competition.
Don’t fuck this up, Porter.
Chapter Two: Bag Open, Cat Out
Boy, did Ieverfuck up.
Okay, I had a few drinks.But I wasn’tdrunk.Why did I say that to him?
I considered calling in sick to work.I felt like shit, and Trish was going to kill me.But I hadn’t taken a day off work since I’d started.I was trying to impress my boss, Simon, so he’d let me apply to do a master’s in his lab next year.
So I went in to work.By that point, I was resigned to what was coming to me, and I just wanted to get it over with.
