Page 100 of Bad Words

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re a bookseller, right?”

“Yeah, I work at Word. It’s about twenty minutes that way.” She pointed through the wall behind her.

“Right.”

“Sorry, I interrupted,” Emily said, making to retreat with the dirty plates. “I can—”

“No, please, you didn’t.” My own voice sounded smooth and blank. “I was just leaving City’s anniversary event around the corner, and I remembered. Parker mentioned a while back that he had a copy of Clarice Lispector’s first book, and the library hold list is seven weeks long, so”—I made myself look back to him—“I thought I’d ask to borrow it.”

“Right. Of course,” said Parker. “Let me … yeah.”

He left the door hanging open and jogged deeper into the apartment, down a hallway I couldn’t see. Emily set their dinnerware on the counter. “Do you want a cup of tea or anything? I mean, it’s Parker’s tea, but I’m sure he—”

“No, thank you. I appreciate it, but I’m on the way to the train.”

Parker’s footfalls again, still quick. He wanted this over with.

He reappeared holding Near to the Wild Heart and held it out.

“Thank you,” I said, taking the book.

“Sure. Of course.” His eyes fell to the cover. “I, um, I hope you like it.”

“Yes. I hope so too. It was nice to meet you, Emily.” I lifted a hand. “Have a good weekend.”

“You too!” Emily said with real enthusiasm.

Parker nodded, but I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t wait for him to shut the door. I turned and headed out of the darkened foyer and into the eye-watering winter cold and it was only halfway down the block that I began to feel my hands again, and to realize that I was blinking unusually fast, and that my breaths were uneven.

I walked more quickly toward the train, yanking my gloves on, the world a blur around me. I could only see Parker’s shock, his disturbance to find me on the threshold of his life. Mortification and realization were moving through me in slow, sickly, alternating waves.

Somehow, despite his text silences and our whole acrimonious history, I really had fooled myself into thinking he could be interested in me, purely because he’d been drunk and lonely on New Year’s Eve. And maybe that night, if I’d tried to touch him, he would have reached toward me out of morbid curiosity, in the way that men used to, before I grew tired of feeling like a foreign land that people were always trying to document and interpret. But of course in his right mind he would search for someone sweet and kind and open, because everybody wanted to be liked in uncomplicated ways, and I’d never loved anything without twisting it into knots.

Chapter Twenty-OneParker

“I’m so glad you two are on better terms now,” said Emily.

I smiled across the table. “Yeah.”

“I did tell you at the lit fest she probably wasn’t that bad.”

“Yeah, you did, yeah.”

“That must mean no more feuding, right? What a relief with the book launch coming up, huh?”

A small, artificial laugh escaped me. “My publisher will probably ask me to start a second round for sales. But yeah. You’re right.”

Emily touched my shoulder as she headed to the bathroom. She shut herself in and the silence enclosed me. I sat motionless at the table.

Had Selina Chan really just knocked on my apartment door at 9 PM, out of nowhere? Had that actually happened?

I gripped my mug and stared forward, not seeing the beer bottles on their coasters. I saw Selina’s face. Her instant of surprise when she’d heard Emily’s voice.

Why had I felt so embarrassed, so exposed, like I needed to explain myself?

Emily jogged back down the hall and put on her coat. “I’ve got to get back for my roommate’s birthday thing, but I had a lot of fun. Do you want to hang out again next week?”

I collected myself and rose from my chair. “Yeah, um, I’m free,” I said, walking her to the door.