Holding Still for as Long as Possible (24 page)

Before I realized what was happening, I'd told Everywhere Girl my whole life story. There was something irresistible about the way she asked questions with sincere interest and funny insights.

“Sounds like you have had a monumental year of change,” she said.

“What do you do, anyway? I haven't asked you anything!”

“It's a trick,” she said. “I'm a social worker. A shy social worker, so, you know, I have ways to make you talk.” She winked.

In the bathroom, with my ass in the wall sink and my panties around one ankle, I remembered that it was easy to go out and mess around. I could have many affairs. I could be free.

Everywhere Girl walked me home at 3 a.m., and we pushed our bikes in a weaving line down Argyle Street. We giggled at each other like idiots. I felt the kind of insanity that accompanies a crush out of nowhere, a bomb in the chest.

She gave me her business card:
Maria
.
Street Outreach Worker
.

“Okay, so I know the world is small, but did you used to date someone named Billy?”

“Yes, for many years, actually.” Maria looked at me curiously. “Do you know her?”

“Yes, she's roommates with one of my best friends, and dating my very recent ex.”

“Josh?”

“Yeah.”

Maria looked at me and grinned. “I feel like I'm on some ridiculous reality show. Or I'm about to get punked.”

“Nope. Pure small-world syndrome.”

I thought about inviting her in, because Josh was on nights. Then I felt a flash of guilt and decided not to.

“Well, weird meeting or not, I have a feeling we're going to mean something to each other,” Maria said from the curb. It didn't sound like a cheesy line, just honest.

“I know. I feel the same way.”

I sat on my front stoop and lit a cigarette as I watched Maria bike up the street. The moon was full and I breathed it in. I felt so happy, so . . . normal. I felt like myself again. Returning-to-normal Amy. I'd fucking missed her.

When I opened the door, I was startled by the blare and glare of the television in the living room. Channels were flipping faster than you could guess what was on them. I steadied myself against the coat rack and looked at Josh on the couch, his uniform shirt unbuttoned.

“Hey, Amy,” he said, but he didn't look at me. “Have a good night?” He asked this as if he had to ask but didn't really care about the answer.

“I had a great night, actually.” I sat next to him on the couch, pulling off my heels and massaging the balls of my feet. He didn't turn away from the screen.

Josh would never stay in his uniform after work, because it usually got so filthy. I'd never seen him just walk in and sit on the couch, but this was evidently what he'd done. His boots were strewn in front of the coffee table. He flipped through MuchMusic. City
TV
.
CP24
. Infomercial. Infomercial. There was not much on at 4 a.m. I put my hand on the remote, which made him clutch it harder and pull away from me.

“What the fuck, Amy?” he yelled. He had never raised his voice at me before. At anyone, really. “Can't I just watch
TV
in peace?” He continued to flip.

“Are you jealous? Is that it? Did you look out the window? 'Cause I didn't know you were home. You were supposed to be working. What happened?”

Josh paused for thirty whole seconds. “I booked off early,” he said. Flip flip flip.

Whatever
,
I thought,
I have a right to move on.
I reeled between feeling guilty and feeling entitled and thinking I had completely ruined both our lives. I took a deep breath.

“ 'Cause I really don't think you have a right to take that tone with me or be jealous. I mean, feel what you want to feel, but seriously, don't take it out on me.”

Josh didn't look at me. He paused on figure skating and put the remote down in his lap. “I'm not jealous, Amy. Not everything is about you.”

I grabbed the remote and pressed “mute.” “Of course not. But why else would you be mad?”

“There's a lot going on that has nothing to do with our breakup. You act like it's all there is.”

“Well, maybe it's all there is for me. Maybe it
is
a big deal to me. And I think you're bullshitting. I think you're mad that I met someone tonight.”

“Stop telling me how I feel.”

“Okay, what do you feel?” I wished I were still in that bathroom with Everywhere Girl, lips mashed together.

Josh picked up the remote, un-muted the television. Flipped through channels again. “Nothing.”

The person who had taught me that I could experience a boundless, enthralling sense of intimacy was now this: a clipped responder, avoiding eye contact, angry.

“Why are you still in your uniform?” I asked.

Shrug.

I checked my phone. Seven new texts. Maria? I tried to contain my excitement. Would she be so bold? I stood up and exhaled loudly. “Whatever, Josh.”

He snorted without looking at me.

I raced upstairs barefoot, and ran a bath. I poured rosemary oil into the water, lit two candles on the window ledge — creating an oasis far from Josh. I saved the messages until I got into the tub, hair pinned, toes pointed straight, cradled on either side of the tub.

I flipped open my phone. There were sixteen missed calls and seven texts, six from Josh:

1:45 a.m.
Domestic stabbing. vsa kids & mom. Baby alive
.

1:59 a.m.
Baby dead at hosp. Dad tried to kill himself & failed. Weak fucker
.

2:03 a.m.
Freaking out. Booking off on stress. You home? Please be home
?

2:35 a.m.
Home. Where are you
?

2:45 a.m.
I need you. I'm so fucked
.

3:15 a.m.
?????? So this is what you're like now? So much for our friendship, right?

Then, from Maria:

3:45 a.m.
I had a great time tonight, sexy girl. Reprise?

I jumped out of the tub and into my robe without towelling off. Josh was still flipping channels downstairs. I sat beside him, put my arm around his shoulders and tried to give him a hug. “I
just
got your texts, babe. I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I swear.”

“I don't believe you. You always check your phone. What the fuck were you doing that you didn't hear it go off fifty thousand times?”

He was being so curt, I hardly knew how to respond. He was usually so rational, even when he was upset.

I paused and thought carefully before answering. “I just didn't. Tell me about the call. I'm so sorry you had to witness that.”

“Oh, so you met someone, of course. Did you already fuck them? Huh?”

“Um, that's not exactly fair, considering Billy and all.”

“Did you?” Josh's voice was rising.

“Josh, you're not being fair. I'm here now, so let's talk about your call.”

“Whatever. I need to be alone right now.”

“I think you should talk to me about what happened. Let some of it out. Earlier you said you wanted to see me . . .”

“Never mind.”

“Josh . . .”

“Just go away, please, Amy. You won't get it anyway. And it's not such a big deal, I've seen way worse.” He shrugged again.

But I continued to sit beside him. I tried to hold his hand, but he pulled it away. I knew the type of call he'd had to deal with tonight must have triggered thoughts of his father, of his childhood. I wasn't sure whether or not to say anything about that or to just let it sit. I had a lot of assumptions about how Josh might feel, how his dad's violence had affected him, but I didn't know for sure. Despite all our years together, Josh's past was still a big blank for me. That fact made me feel like I'd failed as a supportive partner.

“It's not a big deal, Amy. I was freaking out, but I'm not any more, okay? I'm sorry for yelling at you.”

“It's okay.”

“No, it's not. I'm sorry.”

The doorbell interrupted us. “Who the fuck drops in at
4 a.m.?” I asked.

I pulled back the curtain over the window on the front door. It was a paramedic, some girl I'd never seen before who looked to be about twelve years old. I opened the door.

The girl said hello, and walked right past me into the living room as if to say,
Excuse me, stranger in a towel, I have a job to do in your house
. She sat down beside Josh and opened her arms, and the angry robot on the couch transformed into a sobbing little boy.

I watched for a moment, uncomfortable and hurt. I pressed my fingernails into my palms, angry that I couldn't give Josh the nurturing he needed now. I had always been able to do that before. It was gross to be jealous of a girl who could empathize with Josh better than I could — but I was.

I hung the towel on the banister at the bottom of the stairs and stood naked for a moment, watching Josh and the girl. They didn't talk. Eventually, they both turned to the
TV
. Josh started flipping again, and the girl pulled a bottle of vodka from her purse and offered it to him. There was a full bar in the kitchen, but he took her cheap brand anyway. The girl looked at me as I stood there naked — although I was partially obscured by the wooden banister — and raised her eyebrows. She blushed, and turned back to Josh.

I walked up the stairs. By the time I was in the bathroom, poking my toe into the lukewarm water, I heard the two of them laughing. I tried not to take it personally. The girl had a cackling laugh with a snort.

I slept for a few hours, and then around 9 a.m. I snuck past Josh and the girl and made a pot of coffee in the kitchen. I brought two mugs into the living room. Josh was asleep on the couch, and the girl was texting on her phone. If she had slept, it must have been in the armchair. I put the coffee down in front of her.

“Do you take milk?” I asked.

“No, this is cool. Thanks.”

“I'm Amy.”

“I know,” the girl said, clicking her phone shut. “I'm Jenny.”

She said her name as if I should know who she was, but I had no idea. I knew Mike, Diane, a nurse named Nina, Dave, Mandy, Mark, and Alisha. I'd never even heard about Jenny in passing. I tried not to assume that this meant something.

Josh rubbed his eyes.

“Do you guys want breakfast?” I asked. “There's oatmeal, fruit.” I was acting like a mom. Like my mom. Accommodating. Feeding everyone. Smiling.

“No thanks,” said Jenny.

Josh shook his head and stood up. “I'll drive you home, Jenny. Thanks for coming over last night.”

The two of them put on their coats. Jenny took a swig of coffee and motioned to it, putting it in my hands. “Thanks, Amy.”

She looked like a Girl Guide playing dress-up.

Josh grabbed the car keys from the hook by the door and Jenny followed him. He didn't say goodbye.

[ 25 ]

Billy

On the Friday before Roxy's birthday I made it to class, but barely. I had been prepared to tell my professor that I couldn't be there, that it made me too anxious and I couldn't concentrate. But I couldn't make it through the whole class. I dashed out at break, unable to breathe. The lights, the air, everything conspired against me sitting still and understanding.

Outside, the sidewalks tilted, and my legs felt as if they had been switched in my sleep. My head floated above me. The last three days had been the worst to date for my anxiety, and I had no idea what to do.

I walked into Emergency at the Clarke, the building I always avoided walking past because I couldn't admit I was as crazy as everyone else in there. I went into the waiting room and feigned reading a poster on the wall. I could have been a social-work student, a friend visiting someone she knew. I could walk out.

But I left two hours later with a prescription for tranquilizers and a follow-up appointment. I called Maria from a park in Kensington Market. Somehow, simply having the pills calmed me. I could take them if I started to go crazy again. A safety net.

“Billy!” Maria said, before I could even say hello. “Listen, I'm glad you called. I have to tell you something. I met someone, and it turns out you know her. She's invited me to Roxy's birthday party, of all things. Anyway, I hooked up with Amy, Josh's ex. So weird. So small world.”

I had no idea what to say. I tried, “That's, uh, pretty awesome. I mean, I feel a bit jealous, sure, but I'll get over it, right?”

Maria was silent. Then she said, “Well, c'mon, you've been dating Josh for a while now.”