Page 45 of Out Of Time

Remi gave him a knowing nod, so he gave her one back, letting her know he understood the assignment.

He began to mop.

She began to vacuum.

It was like a dance. A silent dance, as no more words were spoken. Only, they had never danced together before, so they had to be cautious not to step on each other's toes while learning the next move as they went.

When the house was clean, and the dance was over, Remi picked up her checkered Vans that were still sitting by the back slider.

“I should go,” she said softly, gathering her things as she made her way to the front door, pulling her cleaning cart behind her. Max followed at a safe distance.

“And Max,” she said, turning to face him. “You should probably shower, you reek of whiskey,” she said quietly.

His face flushed, he was embarrassed and ashamed. He didn't know if he wanted to beg her to stay, so he could apologizeand make it right, or if he just wanted her to go. It would be easier for both of them if she just left.

He was a mess, and while she cleaned for a living, this wasn’t the kind of mess she signed up for.

“I’m sorry about today,” he offered.

“Me too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”

Max took a step towards her. What did he plan to do? Shake her hand? Hug her? She didn’t want a sloppy hug from him now, not while he smelled of stale booze. Not after he had kissed her with everything in him nights ago, only to leave her without an explanation as to why he had cut her out of his life the very next day.

“Do you…” He paused, not being good at this sort of thing, but his question had to be asked. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She looked at him,reallylooked at him, and asked, “Doyouwant to talk about it, Max?”

He just stood there. It was a real deer-in-headlights moment for him. His fast reactions in front of the net meant nothing in the real world. No one ever asked him if he wanted to talk. No one stuck around long enough to notice he might need to. No one asked the right questions to see that maybe he wasn't quiet by choice, he was quiet by default.

And he did want to talk about it.

About what she walked in on.

The mess.

Hockey.

The phone call to his mother.

And the one with his dad.

The way he wanted to kiss her in the dark and still be able to see her face.

“Pass?” he asked quietly.

It was easier this way. Less messy. Less complicated.

Remi shook her head, her disappointment in him was obvious. “Yeah, I had a feeling you might say that. But Max, just a heads up, pass only works when you don’t do it every time.”

Hanging his head in shame, he knew she was right.

She placed her checkered Vans on the welcome mat, slipped her tiny feet into them, and without another word, she left.

Remi pulled up to the run-down apartment complex after a long day of work and a fucked-up night with no sleep. She was lacking the energy she needed to finish her last job of the day. Walking in on Max like she had yesterday did a number on her. Seeing him like that reignited a fear in her that she thought she had moved on from. She thought she had let that part of her past go, laid it to rest, and healed.

But surprise, surprise, she still feared finding her loved one's dead.

Weird, right?

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