Page 47 of The Progressions

“I’m not sleeping,” I said.

“You’re on the floor, covered with a blanket.”

“It’s not,” I argued as I rolled over and opened my eyes. “This is Iva’s old coat.”

“Fuck,” Tyler said, and he was smiling. “You must have put your face on your phone. There’s a big, red dent exactly that shape.”

I had taken one last call from a dissatisfied calculator customer. “Great,” I said, sitting up carefully. Instead of rubbing away the mark on my cheek, my hand went to my neck, which was sore again. “Are you back already? You didn’t practice on that ankle, did you?”

“I know you’re concerned about the team,” he said. “You memorized the roster, so you’re aware that there are other guys who play my position.”

“Are you admitting that you’re hurt?”

“I already told you that I was fine.” He shook his head and held out his hand. “Get off the ground.”

I didn’t use him for leverage, though, because that would have put a lot of extra weight on his ankle. “What did the trainersay? Is it a sprain? Oh…” I had gotten up too fast, and I had also forgotten to bring my lunch today. Both of those things combined to make a black film creep over my eyes, and I held onto the desk because I felt so dizzy.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick? Kasia?”

“No, I’m also fine.” I stood straight and covered my mouth as I yawned. “Totally good. I forgot my cooler.”

“So you didn’t eat? What time did you leave your house this morning?”

“Uh…I had an eight a.m. class, so I left around seven. But I had to get up early to put dinner in the slow-cooker for my dad, because I’m going to be home late since I have to help figure out how to attach a trailer to Iva’s car. We can’t use mine.” Not with the way it was wired together.

He shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. There are real movers going to her house.”

“What? Did you hire people? No,” I told him. “No, she can’t afford it.”

“I can afford it, but I can’t go and haul all her boxes myself.”

“Your ankle!” I looked down at it. “What’s wrong, really?”

“You sound actually concerned about my health,” he commented, and I actually was. “I promise, it’s ok. I’ll be good to go on Saturday, and you’re coming, right?”

“Definitely,” I promised. “We’ll all be there, except Iva and baby Balderston.”

“She has to come up with a name for him.”

I agreed, but I circled back to the problematic topic. “You don’t have to pay for her movers.”

“Did you taste that sports drink I’m selling now? It’s made from pickles and it’s delicious,” he commented, which didn’t seem to relate until he added, “The check I got yesterday would buy that house, not just the truck to carry her shit away from it.”

“Really?

“I’m not bragging,” he pointed out. “I’m telling you that I can pay and it’s worth it to me. I’d rather do this than have you over there bringing one box at a time in your trunk that won’t close.”

“It will, with the wire,” I said absently, but I was thinking about how he’d grown up, unsettled and running. Had people helped him this much? Paying for all kinds of stuff, opening their homes? It made me appreciate humanity a lot more. “Iva will say thank you, but you have my thanks, too. And I found a few places for rent that I’m also going to go look at tonight. Wait, is today still Monday?”

“Do you think you’re doing too much right now?” he asked me. “If you don’t even know what fucking day it is…”

“I’m good.” I picked up my phone and it opened to Shay Galton’s post, frozen right at the moment that the old actor had his hands almost on her boobs and she had her face set in a rictus of supposed ecstasy. Tyler was looking at the screen so I put it in my pocket. “That probably wasn’t the best way to tell you that she found someone new,” I mentioned.

“I had heard. She texted me first to let me know that she’d locked down the new guy and was going public.”

“That’s about as romantic as signing a lease.”

“It’s not just personal. It’s business,” he said, but shrugged. “I told her good, congratulations. I think she was expecting me to get pissed and want to fight for her.”

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