Page 13 of Falling Slowly
“I’ll go get my things from the car,” I called from the door and skipped outside.
The darkness had fallen, and it wasn’t the kind we had in the city. It was like someone had thrown a blanket over my head and told me to cross the road safely. The only light burning in the pitch black was the floodlight outside the main house, at least a hundred yards away. The parking lot must have been somewhere to its left, I thought, turning on my phone flashlight. It illuminated my feet just enough that I could navigate the stairs without tripping.
When I’d advanced halfway down the path, a blindingly bright spotlight suddenly lit up the ground, giving me a start. I heard Charlie’s voice behind me. “Watch your step.”
“What is that? A streetlamp?”
As he got closer, I saw he was holding a small yet extremely powerful flashlight. “This is a… Pocket Lightsaber.” I heard the cheeky smile in his voice.
“Kickstarter?”
“Yeah. They reimagined the flashlight. What do you think?”
I shielded my eyes. “Well, I never imagined I’d lose my eyesight from directly looking at one, so I guess they have.”
“Look how powerful it is. I can see the whole parking lot.”
The door of the nearby cabin creaked open. “Hey! Cut it out! We’re watching a movie here.”
“Sorry,” Charlie called back, dimming the light. It didn’t only dim but turned purple. “Oh, crap. I’m not sure how this works. Hang on.”
He kept pushing buttons and turning dials on the device that, now that I could look directly at it, resembled a cut-off light saber. It was like someone had concluded that the original didn’t look enough like the male organ and decided to remedy the situation. Penises didn’t blink in rainbow colors though, so this one was an upgrade.
“Oh, man. I didn’t even know it could do that,” Charlie said, pushing another button. The rainbow blinking turned into a steady, pink glow. “That’ll do.”
I clamped my mouth shut to hold back any comments on the way he held the pink wand against his crotch.
Don’t be stupid, Bess. Do. Not. Be. Stupid.
We walked down the path and crossed the parking lot. My battered silver Toyota glowed faintly in the corner, dwarfed by Charlie’s red, electric Porsche. I popped the trunk and reviewed my two canvas bags, trying to remember which one held mytoiletries. I didn’t use pajamas but slept in whatever slacks and T-shirts I could find. Clothes needed to be multi-functional to earn their place in my wardrobe—or in my sad canvas bag.
I ended up dumping the contents of both bags inside the trunk and quickly folded the necessary items into the bag that wasn’t ripped. The rest went into the other bag, as quickly as possible. Charlie moved closer, carrying a huge leather bag, and lifted the pink light above my shoulder to expose the mess.
“You know, I once threw my stuff in plastic crates when I couldn’t find my suitcase. Doesn’t work if you’re catching a plane, but I was going fishing and it ended up being quite handy.”
“Yeah, I was running late and just grabbed the first thing I could find.” He didn’t need to know it was the only thing. Or that I’d sold my suitcase a long time ago, along with a lot of other stuff, to scrape together the security deposit for the apartment.
“Let me.” He tried to take the bag as I was reaching for it, but I was faster.
“No need.”
Charlie took a step back. “Okay, then.”
He sounded hurt. I didn’t know what to do with that. Did he expect me to turn into a damsel in distress so he could feel important? I’d been too busy channeling competence and efficiency, my office staples, to even consider that approach. Besides, this was Charlie. He was as self-involved as anyone living in the rich-and-handsome bubble, but as far as I knew, his ego wasn’t that fragile.
I secured the bag onto my shoulder and closed the trunk. “Ready!”
“What about the other bag?”
“I’m staying for one night. No point bringing everything.”
He huffed a sad, little laugh. “We’re still on that?”
“Still on what?”
“The whole ‘I’d rather drive home than share a cabin with Charlie.’”
“There’s only one bed!”
