Page 6 of Sublimate
He was back. I heard a car in the driveway so I quickly checked to make sure that there was absolutely no trace of the tree around, no needles or broken glass from the things that had shattered. If he had returned so soon, it was either that he’d forgotten something, the engine was running poorly, or he had realized that he didn’t have enough gas or money. Any of those issues would lead to him being even angrier. I checked my reflection in the window next to the front door to make sure I didn’t look like I’d been crying, because tears sent him through the roof.
When I did that, though, I also saw that the vehicle in the driveway wasn’t Kolter’s and it wasn’t his mom’s, either. She liked to come over for surprise checks on her property, so I expected visits at least once a week. But this wasn’t my boyfriend’s dirty red car or his mother’s blue, lifted truck. It was a sleek black one that looked like something that a spy would drive in a movie. I knew that the person behind the wheel, a man from what I could tell, must have been lost. There was nothingthat he could have needed here but it was still exciting to watch the car while he got his bearings and to listen to the sound of an engine that didn’t rattle.
But then I took a second look at the driver. It was hard because the sun was behind the house so its beams reflected off the windshield, but I could have sworn that I recognized him—and then I realized that yeah, I did. This was a person I hadn’t thought I’d ever meet again, the lost, frozen, drunk guy!
I walked out onto the front step. “What are you doing here?” I called.
He got out and raised his hand. “Are you…what’s your name?”
“Vivienne. Vivi,” I said. “And you’re Nolan, and you found me somehow.”
He walked up the tire track that formed an icy path to the end of the driveway, then made his way across the hard-packed snow toward where I was standing. “You’re barefoot,” he pointed out. “Do you need shoes?”
I looked at his and saw a slightly different version of the nice ones he’d worn on the night that I’d seen him lurching along the shoulder. “I’m ok. Why are you here?”
He stopped in front of the steps and we stared at each other. “I remember you,” he said. “I was trying to piece together how we met.”
“I was out driving and saw you walking…” I prompted, but he didn’t take up the story so I continued it. “I saw you walking andasked if you needed a ride. Did you ever find your wallet and phone?”
“Yes. You knew about that?” He paused and then repeated, “Yes. Because I was going to pay you but I had left them at the restaurant.”
“That’s good news about your stuff,” I said, nodding.
He blew on his hands because this December had gotten very cold. “Could I come in?”
“Um, ok,” I agreed. I stood to the side and let him go first, like he had done for me at the bar.
But he stopped after he’d taken the first step. “What happened to your furniture?”
I knew what he was looking at, and it was the reason I had wanted to stand on the porch to have our reunion. “My boyfriend got really mad a few weeks ago,” I explained. He had gone on a little rampage and I had done my best to repair the damage, but its aftermath still showed. I wasn’t great with tools, never having used them for much before, but I’d tried to nail together the kitchen table. When that hadn’t worked great, I’d moved on to duct tape and my old friend, glue. I’d used that on the coffee table, but I’d had to tape the window where it was broken. I’d also taped together the cushions of the couch, which had gotten slashed. And despite the work I’d done, it all looked pretty bad.
Nolan tilted his head as he looked at a lamp, which was definitely tilted itself. I had given up on nailing things but the hammer had served me better in another way: I had taped the lamp togetherand used that tool as the support structure. “He got mad and broke everything you own,” he said.
“It’s actually all his stuff, not mine. I knew that he would be upset but it’s too bad that he took it out on the furniture, especially because I can’t do my side business for extra money. We can’t replace anything right now.”
“Your dryer broke,” he said slowly. “I remember that.”
“Good for you,” I encouraged. “It’s all coming back. The one thing I wondered about that night—well, I wondered a lot of things, but I didn’t understand why you had to get out of the car you had ordered. You said that the ride got canceled, but why? Did you mess up with a credit card?” That happened. Currently, my boyfriend’s mom owed so much that it had made me whistle when Kolter had told me the number, which had been a reaction that he hadn’t liked at all.
“There’s nothing wrong with my credit card and I also didn’t understand what had happened. Apparently, when I left my phone on the table at the restaurant, a guy got into the app and canceled the trip as a joke. A friend of mine from college,” he answered.
“Some friend,” I said, shaking my head.
“Some boyfriend,” he said, staring at where the living room floor had been gouged and cracked. Then a few pieces of the plastic wood had been yanked out, so you could see the yellowish board stuff that had been underneath them. I needed to get a rug but that would have to wait until I got the dryer working, and glue hadn’t done jack to help our appliance situation.
He was still looking around, and I could understand how this appeared to someone just stepping into it. “I also would have been upset if he’d been out with another girl,” I said. “And you know, my explanation about how it happened wasn’t very believable.”
Nolan looked at me quizzically, one eyebrow raised. “Hold on, do you mean what happened with me? Your boyfriend had this reaction when you came home after driving me around?”
“Yeah,” I said, sighing. It had been a very difficult night.
That made my guest get upset. He didn’t say anything but I noticed his chest moving up and down faster under his winter coat (he was wearing one today, and I was glad to see it). He narrowed his eyes a little, too, and when he turned his head again to review the damage, the movement looked jerkier.
“He has a bad temper,” I explained. It would erupt if he came home and saw the strange car parked in front of his house and a strange man standing in his living room. I needed to move this conversation along. “Why did you come here today?” I asked again. “And how?” I had never told him my last name and anyway, I wasn’t officially a resident. I wasn’t on a lease and I didn’t directly pay any of the utility bills. I didn’t get mail or receive paychecks at this address, either.
“I was thinking about what happened and how you stopped to help me,” he said. “It felt like we were driving for a long time and I thought I remembered that you pointed out your house. This house.” He stared at the broken window and it seemed like he got more upset, because now I saw a very obvious sign that mademy own heart beat harder: he clenched his hands into fists. But he spoke normally. “It took a while to find it.”
“You mean, you went around searching? Searching for me?” I wondered, and he nodded. “Why?”
