Page 12 of Such Sharp Teeth

“On to more important things,” I say, leaning toward her. “How bad do I smell?”

She generously lends me her nose. She gives me two sniffs, then says, “It’s not great.”

“I should shower but I’m being lazy. What should I do about the bandages? You think I can take them off?”

“Text Seth,” she says. “You might need to wrap them in plastic. I can help if you want.”

“I don’t want to Saran Wrap myself like a cheap sandwich,” I say. “Besides, that sounds like too much effort. I’m over it.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “That this happened to you. I’m sorry.”

It’s too direct. It unleashes something inside me. I’m in danger of tears.

I clear my throat. “It’s not a big deal.”

She reaches over and covers my hand with her hand.

Desperate to change the subject, I go for the low-hanging fruit. “Honestly, Ian does look pretty good. Aged into himself.”

—

Later, Scarlett falls asleep on the couch while we’re marathoning episodes of The Twilight Zone. The dog is also asleep, paws on Scarlett’s lap. I get up quietly and sneak out to the back patio to vape. I sit on the concrete, surrounded by dying flowers, letting the silk-soft rain slowly soak my clothes.

I admire the night. The rain clouds amble away, leaving behind an exceptionally clear sky, an extravagance of stars.

I’m used to the sky above the city, where there’s so much light pollution the stars are just rumors. When their shine finally finds you, its authenticity is impossible to determine. Through all the haze it could be an airplane or a sparkle in your eye, courtesy of your last sixteen-dollar cocktail.

Not here. Here when the stars shine, they shine beyond doubt, with diamond clarity. There are so many of them. Who knew?

It’s a beautiful sky. It’s the sky that I grew up under, that I must have taken for granted. One of the few redeeming features of this place that I swore I’d never come back to.

Not that I’m back back. It’s six months.

I puff on my vape, and when I exhale, I follow the smoke up, up, and there’s the moon, high and silver and smug as a motherfucker. The sight of it rattles my bones with such violence, but I can’t look away. Because I can see its face. And it can see mine. It sinks itself into my eyes and it drags me toward it, demanding obedience. A mad mother.

I’m standing now. My side stings. There’s a sudden fuming beneath the bandages. It shouldn’t hurt like this. Why does it hurt like this?

There’s a sound somewhere. The neighbors rolling their garbage bins down the driveway.

It distracts me from the moon. I shake her off.

I hit my vape pen again, then head back inside. I stand at the kitchen sink, drinking water straight from the tap. I don’t know why. I should really get a glass.

I’m too thirsty. I drink and drink.

I pull away and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

I notice my phone charging on the counter. I have no idea how it got there. I guess someone recovered it from my car. Maybe the cops? I’m not happy to see it. We’re fighting. If it hadn’t distracted me, none of this would have happened. Why accept any responsibility when I can blame this evil pocket computer?

I flip it over and see I’ve got too many messages. From Ash, from Seth, from my mother, whom Scarlett must have informed about last night’s misadventure. From Ian.

I offered to drive, his first message says.

How does he know?

Thinking of you. Heard you’re okay but let me know if you need anything.

Heard from whom? I always hated this small-town-grapevine nonsense. That’s something I love about the city. The anonymity. No one knows who you are, and no one gives a shit about your business. It’s a beautiful thing.