Up from tangled blankets and sheets, a groan rose. Covers were scattered, fabric pooling where part of it had begun to slip off the bed.
The fan continued to buzz rhythmically. Needlessly.
Same today. Same yesterday. Take a shower just to get out and feel just as sticky as before in a matter of minutes. In another word, summer.
It'd been four days now.
Well, five if today counted. That left two more days until he got back.
Two days late.
Her features screwed up for a moment just before she sucked in a breath then let it out. Her English came out slow and careful.
"Happy birthday to me… Happy Birthday to me…"
Still didn't sound like the lady in the movie, the one with dark hair and the really soft voice. What was her name again?
A loud sigh was muted by the fan.
He'd made a bet with her at some point. If she could hold a basic conversation with him in English, he'd take her to New York. Broadway.
That trip was one too many paychecks for her liking.
And that was the frustrating thing. Watching him reach into coats and jacket pockets. Always quick for a checkbook from wherever it was on his person that day.
It was only by her argument that they hadn't been all over the world and back by now. Just seemed like he was never too excited about the whole idea. Just offering for her sake.
But that made sense at least.
That's where he was now, out in the world. France. Wait, maybe it was Canada...
It was too hot to remember things.
He was seeing what of the world he could through lobby pamphlets and limousine windows. He'd told her that once.
He would grimace when he'd tell her about the next trip but yet he was awfully willing to up and take off when it was his girlfriend's birthday and all.
Was it right to call herself that anyway?
A pillow shifted off the bed and fell as she sprawled out. Turning her head, she spied the squished chunk of fabric laying on the carpet. Just out of reach.
Oh well.
Near the far window, the tv set murmured, voices of afternoon dramas quiet in comparison to the lazy, whirring chorus of cicadas drifting in.
Maybe he didn't really care. He didn't care about a lot of things.
It was easier to suppose he forgot. After all, it wasn't like she'd mentioned anything.
For a moment she amused herself with the thought of him suddenly remembering. Maybe in the middle of a meeting…
Suddenly he'd stop. Mid-sentence. A look of resignation on his face as he rose slowly from his chair at the head of the table. And all eyes would be on him, awaiting what would turn out to be a declaration. "I can't stay," he'd encrypt with a careless laugh. Then he'd sweep out of the room, coat billowing behind him.
Flipping over, she buried her face in the blankets, shoulders shaking with laughter.
It was then the buzzer sounded.
Hoisting herself out of bed, she smoothed at her shorts and strode out of the apartment just long enough to press the button on the callbox and come back.
Still smiling a bit, she paused in the doorway just far enough in that the door would bump into her and close slowly once she moved. No point in having it lock, it was likely the delivery guy or girl even. She'd had the store down the street a little extra to deliver the cake set aside the prior day.
They'd insisted on buying it for her. Her friends, that was.
There hadn't been a peep out of them all day. She could only guess the evening invite out to Joey's place really was the surprise party she assumed it to be.
At least there was that to look forward to.
Well, actually, it hadn't been a bad day.
A call from her mom had woken her. Over a cup of instant coffee, she'd sat at the table and talked on the phone a while.
It was across the room on a kitchen counter now, charging from the depleted state all the well wishes and birthday greetings she'd received.
And then the cafe across town had that special for lunch.
Simple. Pleasant things.
Sighing again, she padded over to the modest kitchen and gripped the edge of the sink.
The water had lost most of its bubbles now. She frowned at the dishes still there, waiting to be scrubbed.
If he didn't care then whatever. Maybe it was a sign of things to come. Better to know sooner rather than later then…
The sound of the door shutting was familiar enough, as was the sight standing there in front of it.
Trademarks had been abandoned in favor of a white suit, black bits here and there.
"I'm…" she mouthed, trying to resist the urge to scratch at her cheeks like it'd make the warmth spreading there go away.
I'm not even fully dressed.
There was everything but a bra though he hadn't seemed to notice just yet, more amused, judging by the tell-tale twitch of his lips, at her in general than anything else.
"Just barging in without knocking," she snapped in spite of herself and leaned back against the sink. "Real classy."
He didn't have anything to say in response rather, his answer was a slow step across the floor as if he were so generously allowing time.
"I thought you were supposed to be in Canada anyway," she pressed, her lips into a tight line and her arms across her chest in a fold.
"France," he supplied as he took another step.
Darn, she'd had it right the first time.
"Using me as an excuse?" she offered all too lightly.
He was rather close by then.
But she hadn't so much as blinked. He had a habit. Prevailing upon her space exactly when she pretended she wanted otherwise.
"I didn't forget."
She scoffed. "Could've fooled me."
Apparently he didn't have an answer to this.
Her arms broke apart, hands coming to rest on her hips as she stared up at him.
"Well," she began, "did you bring me something from France at least?"
As if he was waiting for just this, he spread his arms in a grand gesture, not at all attempting to fight the smirk claiming his lips.
Himself, naturally.
She rolled her eyes and smiled in spite of herself
"Well then, Mr. Cheapskate. You can come with me to the party."
He groaned but failed to protest.
