The next few days blur together in a maddening cycle.
Timmy runs in and out of the apartment while I try to focus on marketing my books. His comings and goings used to freak me out, but now I’m becoming numb to them.
Yet there’s still a nagging feeling in the back of my mind—an unease about that desperate girl he slept with before we met. She’s far away now, but according to his ex, ‘she always comes back. What if he’s calling her when he runs away? Leading her on and complaining about me?
At one point, Timmy surprises me by being nice for once.
“It’s shit that I’ve been living here in Sunset Cay and I haven’t even gone swimming for about six months,” I’d said to him earlier. I was shocked when I realized it had been that long since I touched the ocean, even though it’s literally a stone’s throw away from my apartment. It’s as if Timmy has somehow weaponized yet another of the things that’s brought joy to my life.
“Let’s go for a swim,” he says. “We can take our snorkeling masks.”
I want to believe in this version of him, but I know better. I’m not in the mood for his mood swings, and I’m not falling for his nice-guy routine.
“Let’s talk about that skank you slept with right before we met,” I snap instead. “The one who won’t leave you alone.”
His face hardens into a scowl. “Fuck you,” he spits. “I don’t give a fuck about her. She’s nothing. She’s crazy.”
“Then why did you put your penis in her at least twice?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm, but also yearning for an answer that will give me some relief.
I tell Alice.
Alice:
Right.
I don’t make a habit of fucking my mortal enemies.
This isn’t a Marvel movie.
Me:
I don’t think he’s hung up on her. He says she’s irritating AF, but she’s the one whose FB page he’d been on.
Alice:
I’m uneasy about this whole excuse.
Me:
And now…
Alice:
Does he have a step tracker?
I feel like he should.
Me:
He has an Apple Watch.
And told me he closed his rings yesterday.
Alice:
I’m curious to know how much ground he covers in a day.
Me: