Devotion 5
Edward was asleep on a piece of cardboard made flat. It was the box his mother had sent, the household goods. He had dumped those in the kitchen on the table good old Marvin must have left behind and flattened the box for his bed.
The floor hadn't been swept, and he hated grit. So he'd laid on the box, his other pair of pants rolled beneath his head, to soften his dreams. He tried to sleep. But he listened. For Bella.
A couple of times he heard car doors slam, and he got up to look, the light from the streetlamp showing the grime on his windows, but he could see well enough, and it wasn't likely he'd hang sheets. Not anytime soon.
Finally, he drifted, but he awoke with a start. His breath was short, his shoulder hurt from sleeping on his side. He got up, stumbled, hurried to the windows. She was already standing out there, hands on her hips. It had to be past three. Maybe four.
Bella glared at him. He realized he wanted to see her, but she looked so surreal…standing that way in the eerie yellow light. It was frightening.
He turned away and went to the door and opened it, expecting her to show up. And she did.
"You were waiting for me," she said. She looked tired. Still beautiful, but there were blue shadows under her eyes. Her ponytail was high on her head. There was a couple of stains on her shirt. She smelled like beer, and she had been drinking.
"You work nights," he said. What he meant was, I had no idea you worked all night. Then he thought she might have been having 'a date.' Especially since he'd been noncommittal toward her offer. Did she think he wanted to renegotiate?
"I had clean-up. And it's damn hard work, Edward! And you made me feel like a piece of shit, and I'm not a piece of shit."
He looked down the hall. The building was J-shaped, and he was the first apartment on the inside of the hook. First one to hug the courtyard. She was too loud. The loudest one here next to Alice.
She'd accused him of making her feel bad. Edward had learned to apologize quickly, but only if it was beneficial to his accuser. With her, he was rethinking this, even through the fog of deep sleep and a nightmare that was still screaming something in his head. "I never…"
"Are you gay?"
He had to laugh at the absurdity. Not the idea of being attracted to his sex, but that it had come up more than once. Usually when he was being propositioned. "Not…gay," he said.
"You have a woman tucked up somewhere?" she leaned forward and looked past him. The apartment was dark except for the light spilling across the floor from the courtyard.
He didn't step back to make intrusion easy, so she put her arm across his chest and pushed him back. He went along. With Bella so near Edward was very aware she had an effect. That was the DNA of loneliness. It was also her well-honed power. Sexuality was her armor.
"I could tell right off you were single," she said proudly. Man, she smelled of alcohol. She saw the box on the floor then. It brought her to silence for a moment. He resented that. Now she would try to hold him to account. He also felt a surprising eagerness to shut her down.
"You're…correct," he said to stroke her fragile ego. "Single as a monk."
"As a monk?" she turned toward him. "See, that ain't right. I know where you are on the food chain, Edward. Guy like you…you should never be alone. So what is it? We're out of healthy options. You in some kind of trouble?"
"No." Now he wanted her out. Mostly.
"High and mighty," she said.
"Not high. Not mighty," he sighed. "I ah…hope we can…"
"Shut up, Edward. Don't say it. We cannot be friends." She pulled the band that held her hair, and it spilled over her shoulders. "You insult me…and I don't know what your thing is. That's not friendly, dude."
"Bella," he looked quickly at the clock he'd plugged into the living room outlet near his box, " it's four-thirty in the morning."
"I love an early morning f..." Her hands went to the button on the tiny shorts.
He covered the expanse of dusty floor, his bare feet pounding like a drum. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door. She tried to fight him off, hit at his arm. "Get your hands off me."
He let her go then. Pulled the door and stood there. He wouldn't look at her, but he waited. The neighbors upstairs thudded something on their floor. People were waking up.
"You know…" she began.
"Goodnight, Bella," he said firmly, eyes still straight ahead.
"Fuck you," she whispered as she left.
He closed the door. He even did up the chain. For the second time that day he leaned his head there and listened for her retreat. He realized she'd already left. So he should be able to breathe. But the smell she'd brought in, that's all there was.