Page 32 of You'll Love it Here

Jamie stops in the doorway. “Hopefully with that much warning, you can have people actuallylet us inthen.”

I fight the desire to say something back as he stomps out. It’s not like his winning personality was doing us any favors either.

Norm sticks his hand under the sink and we both wait a beat as the water cleans the wound.

“How’s it looking?” I ask.

Norm pulls his hand out for inspection. “It feels... okay. I think it’s, um, better.”

I wince at the sight of it. It’s very deep. He must’ve speared his hand hard. “Shit, looks like you’ll need stitches.”

Instantly his face goes taut. “I don’t need to go. I’m not... good at that.”

Just a few minutes ago I was speculating that this man may have a body hidden in here. Now he looks so frail I can’t imagine him overwhelming anyone. He looks like he wants to disappear, like he needs a hug but wouldn’t know what to do with one.

“Norm, I really think you need to get this checked out.” There’s a plea in my voice. The guilt is clawing its way up my throat.

“No.” His tone is firmer this time. His eyes shift to the door. “I can, um, go to the twenty-four-hour clinic... when it’s quieter. I just, not now.”

It’s the shaky airiness in his voice, the stiffness of his stancethat does it. Obviously forcing him out into the world, or even the hall, where people are probably lurking to get a view, isn’t going to go well.

“Okay, yeah.” I nod. “Let’s get some gauze over it for now, then. You okay with me going to my place to grab some?”

“I have gauze under my bathroom sink. I’m fine, seriously.” His face is so pale. He presses a new paper towel to his hands and this time there’s something more in his eyes than pleading. “Please,” he whispers, and I recognize it.

Shame.

My eyes shift to the broken glass and spilled juice. “I can help with the mess.” It’s a meager offering, my final attempt to make things right.

He shakes his head. “Just leave it, Mona.”

My name in his mouth catches me. Of course he knows it now, since I’ve been messaging, but it still feels oddly familiar.

I remember again my company’s letterhead on his fridge. Has he been paying attention to me longer than I realized? No, that’s silly—Norm seems too skittish to be a real villain. Maybe he came by the company for a pitch meeting in the past? Unlikely, given his obvious fear of exiting the unit. Whatever is going on here, it sends prickles of unease down my spine.

I need to leave.

“Okay, well, take care,” I say.

He doesn’t lift his head as I make my way to the front hallway. From this angle my eyes are drawn to the open crack in the hall closet’s door. Through it I spot two giant orange jerry cans. Why the fuck would anyone need to storethatmuch gasoline in their apartment? Is he planning something messed up?

Instead of sticking around to contemplate this shit, I make my way out the door and close it behind me.

It seems like most of the residents went back into their apartments after the lights turned back on. But my friend Carmen is leaning against his doorframe. (Of course he was home!) He’s in a violation of sweats and a tank top—the kindest thing you could say about it is that it was probably white once. “I heard all the commotion,” he says. “Everything okay?”

“Yep.”

He lowers his voice and leans toward me conspiringly, yet also creepily. “Don’t suppose you noticed any packages in there with my name on them? This kid is suspect numero primo.”

I cringe back from him. “Nope. Nothing like that at all.”

“Was that joke of an electrician the inspector you’ve been trying to schedule?” he grumbles. “Ruined my movie with his power-outage stunt.”

In the sliver of view of the apartment behind him, it looks like there are about a thousand pieces of furniture and junk strewn about. The chef’s kiss is the haze of smoke clouding the air. I swallow my annoyance; I’m pretty sure he’s not a smoker, so what the hell is he burning in there? “Sorry about that. Speaking of, can you let me know a good time to—”

A moaning sound comes from inside his suite. It sounds like a very... enthusiastic woman.

Carmen’s face goes red. “Excuse me. Like I said, I was watching a bit of a film before all of this.” His eyes cut to me accusingly. “A documentary.”