moved to Brooklyn, we were supposed to get together for dinner at my house, just to catch up, but she canceled an hour before our meeting. I had made a full meal, four coursesâwith Tessaâs help, of course. It felt like I had searched nearly every corner store in Brooklyn for Dakotaâs favorite drink, blue cream soda in a glass bottle, finally finding it after an hour. I even stopped myself from drinking any of the six-pack before she arrived. Well, I had two, but I left four for her.
Dakotaâs flat shoes squeak against the floor, and I canât remember it ever taking so long to walk to my apartment. The elevator seems to be taking forever.
When we finally reach my door and I unlock it, Dakota pushes past me and enters. I lay her purse on the table and kick off my shoes. She takes a few more steps until sheâs in the center of the room.
The living room feels much smaller with her in it. Sheâs a beautiful storm, all waves and anger as her lungs fill with air. Her chest rises up, then down, in a ragged pattern.
I step toward her, right into the eye of it all. I shouldnât know how to approach her. I shouldnât remember the exact way to talk to her, to cool her temper.
But I do.
I remember how to slowly step to her and wrap my arms around her waist. When I do, they fall into their protective place, trying to shield her from anything and everything. In this case, from myself.
My fingers should have forgotten how to gently raise her stubborn chin and let me look into her eyes. But they havenât, they couldnât.
âWe have to talk about this,â I whisper through the heavy air between us.
Dakota takes a breath and tries to look away from me. I bend at the knees, leaning down to her height. She looks away again and I refuse to give in before she listens to me.
âI met Nora a while ago, back in Washington,â I begin to explain.
âIn Washington? Youâve been seeing her that long?â She hiccups at the end of her question and pulls away from my embrace.
I wonder if I should offer her something to drink. I donât think this is the best time, but when an inebriated person hiccups, it sometimes means theyâre going to get sick, doesnât it?
Where did I even hear that?
This is one of those times when I wish I knew more about drinking and the effects it has on your body. Dakotaâs toe catches on a pile of textbooks on the floor and she stumbles, taking a few unsteady steps toward the couch. Better safe than sorry, Iâll get her that water after all.
I shake my head. âNo, no, no. She came over a few times because her parents live close to my mom and Ken.â
I know it sounds like a lie, but itâs not.
âI barely know her. She helped my mom with baking and now sheâs Tessaâs friendââ
âYour mom? She met your mom?â Dakota shrieks.
Everything I say seems to add another shovelful of dirt to the hole Iâm digging myself in.
âNo . . . well, yes.â I sigh. âLike I said, her parents live near mine. I didnât have her over for family dinner or anything like that.â
I hope something clicks within her and she sees that this isnât what she thinks it is.
Dakota turns away and her eyes scan the living room. I watch her as she walks over to the couch and sits down on the side closer to the door. I pull my jacket off and drape it over the chair. I hold a hand out for Dakotaâs jacket, but she isnât wearing one. How did I not notice? I remember looking at the line of her tights, the outline of her bra through the thin cotton of her dress. Iâm not used to seeing her dressed like this, in such tight clothing.
Thatâs my excuse for being a pervert who didnât even notice that she wasnât wearing a jacket? It didnât even cross my mind to offer her mineâwhatâs happening to me?
While I wait for her response, I walk over to the thermostat and turn up the heat. If weâre lucky, itâll make her drowsy. I pop into the kitchen and pour each of us a glass of water.
When I return, she shakes her head and looks past me; I can see that sheâs struggling within herself. âFor some reason, IÂ believe you, but should I? I mean, this fast? Just like that?â
She rests her chin on her elbow and stares across the room. âI didnât think I would care this much