I heard the door shut behind me after Kz left. My vision dimmed, and I slumped onto the couch with a force that startled Tequila. I leaned my head against the back of the couch, removed my glasses, and let out a heavy sigh.
"I'm not losing sleep over this. She's just my neighbor," I reminded myself.
I sucked my teeth in frustration. My chest tightened, as if my heart had been pinched--an ache I couldn't quite understand. I stared at the ceiling, searching for answers that never came. I groaned and threw an arm over my eyes, as if to block the world out.
Tequila stirred at my sudden movement, her ears twitching as if sensing the frustration rolling off me in waves. She inched closer and pressed her warm body against my side. I felt the soft weight of her head resting near my arm, her silent way of offering comfort. The tension in my chest eased just a little.
Why the hell am I disappointed? It's none of my business. She probably found a place, and everything's fine. So why does it feel like something's missing?
The mess, the dishes, the laundry, the unmade bed was all I saw, but it felt impossible to care. The disappointment I couldn't shake kept me from doing anything, even the things I usually would.
It was in moments like this when the urge to take a drink became too strong. I moved toward the balcony, pulled a cigarette from the pack, and lit it. The first drag tasted scathing and heavy. As I exhaled, I noticed a bath towel neatly folded by the door.
It must have been the towel she used last night.
I took another drag, and this time the burn in my chest was stronger. I let the smoke crawl into my lungs, then released it into the air, watching as the breeze carried it away. In silence, I wished that emotions could vanish just as easily.
But just as I was about to retreat further into my own thoughts, I heard the faint hum of an approaching car below. I glanced down through the balcony railing, my eyes catching the unmistakable figure of Kz stepping out of the cab. Her dogs, as lively as ever, hopped out one by one, tail wagging, and she followed them, a quiet sadness in her posture.
She looked up, her gaze meeting mine briefly, but I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge it. My heart gave an unexpected lurch, a pang I couldn't explain. I turned away before she could catch me looking, and moved inside. The last thing I needed right now was more confusion.
As I stepped back inside, my eyes landed on the folded towel again.
Enough of this.
I picked it up and tossed it into the laundry basket. I decided to clean up to erase the traces of her presence. I forced myself to pick up the things she'd used--glass, plates, utensils...
What the hell is it about her? She's just my neighbor, so why is she still in my head? Why am I so caught up in this?
This took me back to the times when she was the only woman Tequila felt at ease with around me that compelled me to reach out for her hand in the park, the warmth of her fingers intertwining with mine, how perfectly it fit. I recalled the moments we performed together, the audience's cheers ringing in my ears, her voice blending seamlessly with my saxophone. Then there was the time we accidentally lost our footing, and she fell, pulling me down with her. Our faces were inches apart, and for that fleeting moment, it felt like everything had paused. The quiet affection in her eyes when she glanced up at me...
Through all these moments, it felt as though the universe had always conspired to make us cross paths, never once asking if we truly wanted it.
So what exactly does fate want from me?!
All I could think about now was how I wasn't supposed to care about her.
I collapsed into the bed, the weight of mental exhaustion forcing my eyes to drift shut for a brief moment. When I woke up, Tequila was playing with the toy that had been the cause of the accident between us. The memory hit me like a wave, tightening the pressure around my head, gnawing at the edges of my thoughts and making it hard to focus.
I shook off the thoughts of her and forced myself to get up for work. I made sure Tequila had her fill before I left, crouching down to lift her into my arms. She gave me sweet little kisses, a temporary band-aid for the headache that refused to let up.
As I stood to leave, I turned to Tequila.
"Tequila, be good, alright? And be good to--" I stopped halfway, the weight of the silence settling in. Nobody would be bothering us anymore. I froze for a few seconds, then gently lowered her back onto her bed.
"Uhh... nevermind, Tequila. Just be good, alright?" I picked up my electric scooter and helmet, heading downstairs with a disturbed mind. For a moment, her image flashed in my thoughts.
At the bar, another singer was on the stage. I glanced over, half-expecting it to be her, but it wasn't. My head pulsed again, a sharp, sudden pain like someone yanking hard on the reins of my veins. I lifted my hand to my head, fingers splayed wide, trying to hold the pain in place.
Bernard, always observant, came over. "You okay, Ty?"
I weakly nodded and gave him a smile that didn't reach my eyes. I quickly retreated to the stockroom, hoping for a moment of solitude to collect myself. I gripped the corners of the cabinet, my knuckles white, trying to steady my breath.
I can't keep being like this.
The hours at work felt longer than usual, and the wait for my shift to end seemed endless. As Bernard and I were closing up the bar, he gave me a couple of taps on the back, a silent reassurance that he had my back. I weakly smiled in response, then rode my scooter back home.
I stood in front of the door to my apartment, pausing for a moment to observe. The last time I did this, someone had been pretending to sleep on my couch. I took a deep breath and opened the door, only to find an empty space. Tequila eagerly ran to greet me, but the absence of another presence left quite a hollow feeling in my chest. I scanned the room once more, half-expecting a woman to step out of my bathroom, flustered. I gave it a minute, but no one appeared.
With a sigh, I finally let myself fall into the bed, the weight of the silence settling around me.
Two days passed without a glimpse of her, and though it should've been a relief, her presence lingered in the spaces she'd left behind, in ways I couldn't shake.