Page 151 of Home Game

Instead of driving me around, she drove me back to her home, tucked me onto her couch with a cup of tea and listened to me cry.

She didn’t take sides. I couldn’t have stood it if she said anything bad about Ryan, but she didn’t. She held my hand and listened as I blubbered my way through all my emotions.

“Want to move in here until we get you your own place?”

That only made me cry harder, but she went back to Ryan’s place and packed up my stuff and brought it back.

I didn’t even say goodbye.

That was two weeks ago. I threw myself into work and Frank obliged by sending me unlimited work. I cleaned Krista’s apartment until it shone and each night we drove around to different appointments, looking for a place for me to live.

Did he miss me?

I didn’t care about finding an apartment. All I cared about was keeping my mind busy enough so I could stop the cycle of pain and obsession I had swirling through me.

“What do you think?” I volleyed the question back at Krista. Ifshe liked it, I would take it. I needed to find my own cave, so I could retreat and lick my wounds. I needed privacy to do that. This was as good as any.

She looked around. “Great location. Walking distance to lots of amenities. Close to a Skytrain station. A cute balcony and good building security. This is a safe neighborhood. I heard him say pets are welcome. And most importantly, you can afford it.”

This was true. I had gotten my first paycheck from Frank and I could put down the first and last month rent, and still have enough money left over to buy the necessities. “I think I should rent it.”

She beamed at me. “I think it’s a great decision.”

I filled out an application. Counted out my money to the resident manager and signed a rental agreement. The place would be mine on the first day of the month.

I felt nothing, but for Krista’s sake, I pretended to be excited.

“Do you want to tell Ryan?” Krista asked.

The sound of his name jabbed into me. “No thanks.”

“Okay,” her voice was soft. “Maybe another time.”

But later that night, in a moment of weakness, I sent a text.

Me: I rented an apartment today

Ryan: That’s great. I’m proud of you. What is it like?

I thought about my answer.

Me: It felt like me

Ryan: So it feels good?

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. But I swiped my phone on and off, reading and re-reading his message until I fell asleep.

“Areyou sure you don’t want to buy a desk or a couch?” Krista stood in the middle of IKEA. The place no longer comforted me. It made me miss Ryan.

“Just the bed is good for now.” I had gotten my second paycheck from Frank and now I was buying the exact same bed I had chosen for Ryan’s guest bedroom. It was my only connection to him. I added identical bedding, dishes, and bath towels. Other than that, I didn’t want to make the apartment home.

I wanted to crawl into that bed, shut my eyes and pretend I was back in his place. My home was with Ryan. This felt like some sort of awful purgatory, a place I needed to endure.

“I don’t really feel like decorating. Maybe later.”

The day I moved in,Krista helped me clean the apartment. The buzzer sounded.

“That must be the IKEA delivery guy.” I moved to the buzzer phone. “Hello?”

---