Page 50 of Things We Do in the Dark
They must have sat there for five minutes, neither of them speaking, but neither of them making a move to get out.
“How are Beavis and Butthead?” Drew had finally asked, because he had to say something to break the silence. Beavis and Butthead were their nicknames for the upstairs tenants, twin brothers who smoked pot all night long.
“They went to New Brunswick for the holidays to visit their folks,” Joey said. “They stuck a joint under my door with a note asking if I’d take out their garbage.”
“Smoke it yet?”
“You know I won’t.”
Drew appraised the run-down exterior of the old Tudor-style bungalow with the dirty bricks, broken eaves trough, and sagging front porch. He knew the inside was even worse, the main level only slightly less crappy than the basement apartment. “The house still looks like shit, I see.”
“You expected different?”
“I didn’t mean it as a dig. I miss living here.” He stared straight ahead. “I miss living here with you.”
He heard her sharp inhale.
Drew turned to face her. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Simone. It’s just that every time I thought about calling, I knew I’d have to tell you that we broke up, and I knew it would end up being a bigger conversation. Which I wasn’t ready to have.”
“Okay,” she said, but it clearly wasn’t. “So tell me about Kristen.”
“Kirsten.” He tapped the steering wheel, trying to think of the best way to explain. “We’re in the same postgrad program. I think you’d like her. When we’re finished with school, the plan is to move back here, and so maybe the three of us can get together…”
His voice trailed off. Because he knew what he was saying was stupid. There was no way Joey would want to meet Kirsten. Ever.
“I understand why Simone never called,” Joey said. “She wouldn’t want to tell me what she did. Friends choose sides after a breakup, right? She knew I’d choose you.”
Drew let out a breath, feeling worse than ever.
“But what’s the rush?” she asked softly. “With Kristen?”
This time, he didn’t bother to correct her. He looked out the window.
“She’s pregnant.”
There’s a long silence. After a full minute, he chanced a glance in her direction, but she, too, is looking out the window. He reached for her hand, but she sensed him coming and moved her arm away.
“A couple of moments ago I didn’t think I could be more shocked,” she said. “But the hits just keep coming.”
“Joey—”
She turned to him then, reaching a hand out to touch his cheek. Her eyes scanned over his face, as if she were trying to memorize the angles of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, his eyes, his lips, his hair. He didn’t like the way she was looking at him now, as if she knew this would be the last time they would see each other.
“You’re getting married,” Joey whispered. “You’re having a baby. You’re making a whole new life, and it doesn’t include me.”
“Joey—” he said again, but she dropped her hand.
“I’m happy for you, Drew. You’ll be a great husband. And an even better father.”
Her words sounded hollow, like she was only saying the things she was supposed to say, the things polite people would say.
“Do you love her?” she asked.
He couldn’t lie to her. Not now.
“I love her enough,” Drew said. “I grew up without a dad. I don’t want that for my kid.”
She nodded and pushed open the door. A sharp bite of cold nipped his face. Before she could move her leg out, he reached past her and pulled the door shut.
