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“Hey, man,” I grabbed the guy’s shoulder as he tried to squeeze past Muffin and me, “take her somewhere else. She’s not sleeping here again.” Muffin growled, this time flashing his small teeth at Callie’s hipster man meat. The dude looked at Callie and then me, eyes wide above his red and black flannel. He reached for the recording cell phone on my dresser and stuffed it into the pocket of his small pants.
“Noah, you’re being ridiculous. We can talk about this.”
“Um…” I bit my lip, trying to keep the profanities from pouring out. “Nothing really to say here, babe. I came home early, and apparently so did you. The difference is I brought you flowers and am holding my dog, while you were—”
“Fine!” Callie shouted at me, arms flailing as she tried to get into her clothes. I didn’t hear the profanities she hollered through sobbing tears as she and the dude left Muffin and me to clean up their mess. When I could hear them on the sidewalk, I walked downstairs to the living room. I let Muffin out once more, and we slept on the couch, my plan for the morning set on finding a new bed and stocking my liquor cabinet.
I woke before the sun the next morning, my neck stiff from using the armrest as my pillow. I was pissed. Not at the couch, not at the pile of crap Muffin left for me on the rug, but at Callie and the pretentious idea of love. It was bullshit. Seriously.
Muffin bellowed at the front door and, because I loved my dog, I opened the door and let him run around in the front yard. I loved my dog, not my ex-girlfriend. I thought I loved Callie, but that was thrown to shit the second I saw Dude’s coat in my kitchen. Who does that? Who actually cheats? Again, bullshit.
I stood on the front porch, hands on my hips, mindlessly watching the sidewalk and street while Muffin limped around the yard in search of the best place to crap…because my living room wasn’t enough. A few university students strolled along the sidewalk, receiving a small grunt from Muffin, who was too busy to chase them. I pulled one of his waste bags from beneath the porch swing and went to squat above his mess. I was even angrier than before. Who were those two people, arm in arm, affectionate, and miserable? Why did they deserve to be all in love while I knelt over dogshit the morning after I came home to find my girlfriend screwing some dude in my bed?
I called for Muffin and tossed his crap into the waste bin I shared with the two other units in my building. This was my first day off work in two weeks and, after last night, I wanted a day off from my apartment.
I waited in the snow as Muffin scampered inside, cursing the early spring snowfall. I didn’t want to be back in there until Dude’s cologne dissipated. I should’ve known when I walked in last night just by that horrendous odor. Not only did my girlfriend cheat on me, she cheated in my bed with a dude who smelled like one of those old perfume ads in magazines from two decades ago. I didn’t know whether to feel insulted or humiliated, but I needed to get that crap out of my apartment.
Muffin followed me everywhere as I searched for trash bags and collected everything of Callie’s. I was sentimental, but it wasn’t like she died or left me for a once-in-a-lifetime doctoral program. She lied about her trip and slept with that dude, so the least I could do to cope and repay her thoughtlessness would be to collect almost everything she touched or left behind, and then burn it. I thought aloud, tossing out ideas to my geriatric dog who barely raised one crooked eye at me while snoring from the couch.
I started in the kitchen, throwing away all her food. I’d keep her alcohol, of course, because fire and alcohol don’t mix, and it’s the least she could do for me. Her blue coffee mug with yellow polka dots? Garbage. I didn’t even cringe when I heard it shatter inside the bag. Next, the woven blanket made from wool too big that I felt like I was stuck in an enormous spider web whenever she made me use it. She had some makeup and her toothbrush in the bathroom upstairs, and I wondered if I should have dusted or cleaned the toilet with those and given them back. Dude. Chill. Everything went in the bag: makeup, slippers, clothes, framed photographs. Everything, except for the gift certificate to Silas’s parlor.
I picked up the folded cardstock from the top of my dresser, considering it had been too long since Silas inked the watercolor mermaid on my forearm. Maybe another tattoo would help me grieve. I collected the rest of Callie’s crap, knotted the two stuffed bags, and dumped them on the curb before letting Muffin out once more and crossing town to see Silas.
It was cold outside, but the ancient radiators of the parlor were on full blast. I shook off the fallen snow and instinctively peeled off my coat and sweatshirt. His place was just like Nadia’s or the fire station: home.
“Noah!” I recognized Silas’s husky call and looked around to find him nodding to me over a woman’s bare shoulder.
“Fixing the mess of a scratcher,” Silas stated, eyes focused on his precision against the woman’s skin. “Come on back.”
I dropped my things by the register and walked to Silas and his customer. She was young and, I assumed, by analysis of the blowout tattooed badger on her skin, it was originally commissioned as a drunken mistake after a night at the university bars.
“You go to school here?” I inquired, catching her eyes while I sat behind Silas. She nodded, biting her lips to muffle the pain of Silas’s rotary. I smiled at her and leaned back into the chair, arms crossed. I waited for Silas to finish before saying anything more to distract them. When he set down the rotary, he stood from his patron and approached me.
“I saw Ben this morning at the Coffee Trader,” Silas grunted, eyes narrowed. “He looked like shit, and so do you. What happened last night?”
I peered behind him to see the girl distracted with her cell phone before I replied. “Nasty frat party. They had two squads, one engine, and somehow it took all of us to calm them down, and it still resulted in three kids going to the hospital.”
“That’s nothing new to you guys.” He chuckled. “Every Thursday through Tuesday is spent picking up the drunks. Isn’t it?”
“No,” I argued. “You know we do a hell of a lot more than that, Silas. Just last weekend I helped a woman deliver her baby, and the week before that I was keeping some toddlers calm in the hospital after their car accident.”
Silas smiled at me, a cheeky grin I wanted to slap off his face. “Heartthrob and savior. So what brings you around today?” He walked to the girl and gave her a pamphlet on skincare, speaking to her about the next steps for her fixed ink. With her skin covered, the girl handed a stack of cash to Silas and left us alone.
I leaned against a dresser, arms crossed while I prepared my tactful answer for Silas. He was cleaning his supplies, replacing his rotary, before sitting on the bench and looking at me expectantly.
“Spit it out. I could have a walk-in any minute.”
“I caught Callie in my bed with another guy,” I groaned. “And that’s the last time I use her name.”
“Nah,” Silas chuckled. “You’re better than that. Don’t give her that power over you. What if the next girl you fall in love with is named Callie? Or her name even sounds like that?”
“I’m swearing off love.”
Silas lifted an eyebrow. “Okay…what if the next girl you’re with is named Callie?”
“I’m swearing off girls altogether, Silas. I’m just going to focus on work from now on.” I glanced at my feet, stomping my toes a little to scrape off salt from the sidewalk. I heard Silas’s low chuckle as he turned to continue cleaning, mocking me while doing so.
“Noah,” Silas groaned. “We’ve known each other too long for you to think I’d fall for that line of crap. You need a fix, huh?”
I reached for the gift certificate in my pocket and took out the crumpled piece of paper. He knew me too well. I plopped onto the bench and took off my shirt, baring it all for my friend and his rotary. Silas took my forearms, twisting to revel at his creations.
“She’s a looker, isn’t she?” He pointed his gloved index finger to the mermaid tattoo. “What should we do today?”
I looked in the mirror, studying my physique and the empty patches of muscle Silas hadn’t decorated. “Let’s start my black roses.”
Silas slapped my left pec and reached behind me for more supplies. While he worked, I watched the mermaid twist along my turning forearm. She was the only girl for me. How pathetic.
