Page 4 of Ellie Hayes and the Himbos
Even Cole, who was, by most metrics, a functional adult when we met, fell soundly into the category of hapless male. Dishes made it to the sink but could never quite travel the last three feet into the dishwasher. Shoes abandoned in the living room, little land mines to tumble over in the dark when going to the kitchen for water. He couldn’t cook and barely cleaned, and I tolerated it all because in my mind, that was how I made up for my own deficiencies.
But it wasn’t enough.I’m not strong enough for this, too—
My face must betray some of the ugliness running through my head, because Grant’s brow puckers in worry. “There’s a lock?” He crosses to the door leading to the hallway, closes it, and turns the dead bolt. He makes a minor production of trying to pull it open, then unlocks it, letting the door swing into the room.
“Great!” The false cheer in my voice is grating.
“Cool. And you’re good with the rent?” He recites the price that had been on the sign, a mid-triple-digit sum I haven’t paid since my own undergraduate days. “And no deposit or first and last or anything. But there are utilities,” he adds, solemnly. As if a share of this place’s utilities would make a dent in the savings I’d get from reducing my rent by a good 65 percent.
“Absolutely,” I say, happy to contribute something fullygenuine. And very happy to think about Cole’s rent skyrocketing.You strong enough forthat, y’dick?
“If all this is too weird, you can just, like, bounce?” Grant points to a third door on the far wall. “That’ll let you out on the same side as the driveway.” I blink at the unexpected out, and he blanches. “Not that I want you to! But you seem… grown-up?” he says, which is very diplomatic. “And I’m sure we seemwaynot. So I get it if you aren’t into this. No hard feelings.”
Points for self-awareness, Grant. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Cool.” After another moment of silence, he starts to edge toward the door to the rest of the house. “I’ll give you a minute?”
“Yes!” The word comes out tight. Reality is threatening to close in, and I refuse to subject this innocent bystander to whatever that might look like. “Thanks.”
“Rad. See you in a few!” He laughs, adding, “Hopefully!” before stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him.
I take in one long, slow breath, holding it until the urge to scream passes, and exhale. This is fine! It’s stupid and impulsive, and I’m actively dreading the moment I’m going to have to look at the kitchen, but… it’s fine. I need it to be fine.
I stroll over to the mattress and scan the tag taped to a corner.Final Sale. Ian Hammond, pickup,and a date going back almost a year. I squint at the price.Damn.He got a good deal, but this thing was pricey. I send the room’s former tenant a silent kudos.
While I’m peering down, my left eye picks up a flash of light, and I angle my head toward my phone, still in my hand. I brace myself. Incoming call.Heather.
My stomach drops. If my notoriously call-averse friend has resorted to dialing, then I’ve already missed at least three texts ofincreasing intensity. Plus, she’s with Mark, her roommate. The man’s a drama teacher. He literally can’t help himself from escalating a situation.
I fake a smile as I answer. “Hey, H—”
“Ellie, what the hell?” Heather’s voice comes out sharp against my ear. “Why is Cole blowing up our phones, and why aren’t you responding? I’ve sent you, like, four texts.”
Called it.
“Why does Cole even have my number?” Mark grumbles, which bodes well. If he’s open to petty grievances, then we’re well out of range of hysteria.
“He’s asking if we know where you are? Weren’t you two going to dinner?”
“We were…” I say, and let the incomplete statement hang. I’ve been avoiding this conversation all week. I’d reached out to Heather that first morning, in case her biology background might hold the secret to my mysterious blindness. Instead, Mark joined the conversation and I found myself talking down two semi-hysterical secondary educators. And while calming them did a nice job of easing my own nerves, it didn’t seem like the time to introduce the possibility of a soon-to-be-dissolving relationship.
Now isn’t anybetter, but there’s no avoiding it. I take a crinkly seat on the mattress. “But before we could even order, he proposed that we ‘take a break’ from our relationship,” I say, loading Cole’s words with the disdain they deserve.
Twin gasps brush against my ear.
“Oh, my God, Ellie! Are you okay?” Heather asks. “Where are you?”
“I’m fine,” I say, sidestepping the second question. “I just needed a minute.”
“What didyousay?” Mark’s voice is edged with wicked intrigue.
“I told him that he could go fuck himself.” There’s a bloom of pride in my chest at the recall. That was not very “Ellie” behavior. Kind of like everything that’s followed.
Mark’s laugh is a bright cackle. Heather snorts.
“It’s been a long week,” I say, and groan at the understatement. “It’s been a long fewyears, but this week in particular has been more than enough.” A bitter laugh pulls free from me. “Which is funny. That’s how Cole felt, too! ‘We’ve already been through so much,’” I quote. “‘I don’t think I’m strong enough for this,too.’” I grit my teeth. The final word twists just as painfully as it did at the restaurant.
The silence on the other end of the call speaks volumes. We don’t have to be face-to-face for me to know the look they’re giving one another, the wordless anxiety as they try to determine whether I’ve opened the floor to the subject of my notoriously uncooperative body.
