“It’s cool. I’d rather not look like I’m being defensive, because that tends to make people think they can pick on you. Might explain a few things, really.”
“The stuff that’s going on with your grandmother’s house, that you haven’t really explained?”
“That stuff,” I said, “along with the stuff related to it.”
“Which you don’t want to go into detail about,” Tiffany said. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “You aren’t hassling me about it, or prying. I’m not looking forward to when the other guys start losing patience. Joel’s already sort of frustrated with me.”
“Who else is the type to pry? I don’t really know everyone that well.”
“Alexis.”
“Really?”
“Alexis is cool. She can be pushy. She’s a nice pushy, a well-meaning pushy. I love her for it, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t push things.”
“I haven’t run into that. She’s helped me out lots.”
“Because she’s helping you get from a bad place to a good place. Both in terms of where you actually are and in terms of you physically, mentally, emotionally, even spiritually, if you buy that stuff.”
“I don’t, really.”
I nodded some. “But things change when you’ve reached that good place, and she keeps wanting to help. Get you from that good place to a better place. Which sounds awesome, except, you know, it can be awfully nice to just enjoy that good place for what it is, after so much bad. Sometimes you don’t want that extra push.”
Sometimes, I didn’t say, you didn’t want to be matched up with some singer or architect, or you don’t want that offer of a casual three-way.
Tiffany was nodding, but she looked concerned. “I think I see what you mean. Are you- are you angry with her?”
“No. We’ve had fights, some of the most intense arguments I’ve had in my life, and I’ve had some good ones, believe me. But elaborating on that means talking about family, and I don’t feel like talking about family.”
“Me either.”
“We were talking about Alexis. I’ve had moments where I was angry at her, after those crazy intense arguments and it took me a while to realize why I was so upset. She wants me to emerge from my shell, but shells exist for a reason, you know?”
“Yeah,” Tiffany said. “I definitely know.”
“Don’t get me wrong. Alexis is in the running for my favorite person in the world. I owe her… pretty much everything I have that’s good.”
“Yeah. I know,” she said.
Was that an agreement, because she felt the same way about Alexis, or something different?
Tiffany continued, “She- I’m afraid to ask, in case it’s embarrassing or private between you two, but-”
“Did we date?”
“No! God, no, that’s not what I was asking. I don’t… I’m not even sure if I want to know or if I don’t care.”
“We didn’t,” I said.
“Oh,” she said. The nervous energy or anxiety dissipating in a flash. “Okay.”
“What were you going to ask?”
“I… just wanted to know if she did your tattoos.”
Without thinking, I rolled up a sleeve.
My heart might have skipped a beat. I’d been too caught up in this, too caught up in the normal. I was being careful not to lie, but I was forgetting the things that were different.
The birds that were perched on the branches on my forearm were… a little worse for wear. Feathers sticking up, dirtier, the glint in their eyes was glintier. The background had more red to it than it should have.
“It’s more intense than I expected,” she said. “The detail is beautiful, though.”
I changed tacks, to distract myself, and to distract her. “I think you’ll probably have some kind of conflict with Alexis. Take it from someone who’s been there, she means well. Take that for what it is, take it in stride. In my case, I try to give things a shot, let her help now and again, but I have to establish the boundaries with some regularity. Remind her where I stand, nice and assertive.”
“I’m not very good at taking things in stride. Or being assertive.”
“How do you handle things?”
“Not… well? I tend to crumple, or do stupid things.”
“Well, in an ideal world, I’d say I’ll be there to keep an eye on Alexis and help out if she gave you a hard time, but I don’t-”
A crash nearby startled me. I was out of my chair in a second, back to the wall, as two guys wrestled. Trays had scattered all over the floor by the door, knocked off the top of one of the trash cans. A shove or an overly aggressive friendly bump between two guys in hoodies had started it, and it looked like violence was going to finish it.
I’d hoped the animals would be the only things affected by the radiation, had told myself that Tiffany’s outburst against the Sphinx was a reaction to an authority figure, but this…
Dismissing it as a coincidence seemed dangerous.
Some people around us looked a little too upset at the fighting, at being bumped and having their meals disturbed.
“Tiffany?” I asked.
“You want to go?”
“If we can duck out without getting caught in this,” I said.
She nodded.
I stood by, waiting, watching as someone got bumped a few too many times by the two guys and stood.
Heads were turning. The brawl had everyone’s attention.
My attention, however, was on the door. I watched them struggle, slightly back and forth, convinced that the moment I tried to head for the door, they’d stagger back, hitting me or Tiffany, and getting us caught up in the chaos.
I saw them lurch one direction, waited to make sure it wouldn’t switch to another crash into the trash can, and hurried past, getting the door, holding it for Tiffany.
She ducked under my extended arm.
Damn. Two incidents. I could only hope that I hadn’t made the University donut shop the site of a brawl, just by being there.
I really hoped I hadn’t started a riot.
I really, really hoped this would end soon. I’d stepped in shit, I was tracking it everywhere.
“That was crazy,” she said. “Man, I do not like that sort of thing.”
“I can understand that,” I said.
I glanced at a shop window, half-expecting to see Rose there, sharing some silent commentary on what had just happened. She still wasn’t there. How easy it was to get used to mirror-dwelling people-figments.
“You were sharing some personal stuff, about the ‘bad’ we’re trying to move on from? That’s my sort of ‘bad’.”
“Fighting? Violence?” I asked.
“Yeah. It… really makes me feel like I’m seven again. Helpless, frustrated. Really… I’m not an angry person, you know?”
I started to respond, then forced myself to stop, reconsidering. Saying something like, ‘I didn’t think you were’ would be a lie, since I had thought it.
“It wasn’t my impression of you,” I finally said.
“I’ve never been in a fight, not… not that sort of fight. But it makes me angry. Makes me want to hit them, beat them senseless for being so stupid that they’ll beat each other senseless. And now I’m worried I sound like a freak, or an idiot. I’m not sure which, or if it’s both.”