Rebound Roommate

by Jules Barnard

  “Mira.”

  Her delicate throat rolls in a swallow, her eyes barely flickering my way.

  “You okay?”

  Her chest deflates and she nods, but I don’t believe her.

  I rack my brain for some way to reassure her, because she looks like she could use it. “It’s probably a good thing we saw that guy this morning. Now I know what he looks like in case he ever comes loitering. You could go to the police. It will be easy to get his name and address since he worked at Blue.”

  My words don’t seem to help. She pinches her lips like she’s about to cry. Jesus Christ.

  I’m no pussy when it comes to women’s tears. I grew up the only male in a two-woman household. I’ve seen PMS tears, angry tears, and manipulative tears (Cali in all her glory). That shit does not faze me. And I’ve accumulated smooth words over the years to deal with the female waterworks. But right now, the despair Mira’s throwing off is enough to break me.

  I do the only thing I can think of to make both of us feel better. I reach around her shoulders and draw her to my chest. Her face rests against my T-shirt, and that’s when the dam breaks.

  Mira is a quiet crier. Little squeaks here and there, her back rising in delicate hiccups. The way she’s crying—as if she’s used to hiding it—has me doing something I never could have envisioned a few weeks ago.

  I wrap my arms around her and press my lips to the top of her head. I lift her face and wipe tears from the smooth curves of her cheekbones. “Shhh, it’s okay. Everything will be okay,” I say in a low, calm voice that is the opposite of the storm inside me.

  My mind is in turmoil. I don’t know that things will be fine, but I will say anything, anything to make her feel better. To bring back the feisty Mira I know and love—hate. The scrappy Mira I love to hate.

  Only this doesn’t feel like hate.

  It feels good to hold Mira in my arms. As if that’s where she’s supposed to be.

  Mira pulls away and wipes her face with the back of her sleeve, leaving a smudge of mascara on the fabric. She stares at that smudge, and I swear she starts crying harder.

  “Mira, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Seriously, Tyler? You really want to know all the fucked-up shit in my life?”

  I nod. I actually want to know. I’ve always wanted to know what goes on in Mira’s head.

  Her hand balls into a fist in her lap. “Where do I begin?” She laughs without humor. “How about running into the guy I thought would either rape or beat me to death in the woods. That was a good way to kick off the day. Then there were the snickers from my female coworkers at various points throughout the afternoon…When I couldn’t work the fax machine, or the phone transfer system—oh, yeah, and when I broke the automatic pencil sharpener.” I lift a brow. “Don’t start with me, Tyler. I visited John and Lewis at Sallee Construction. I never sat behind a desk. I don’t know shit about collated versus stacked. And what the hell is a dictation machine? Then there were the men giving me creepy looks, which were the opposite of the glares I received from the women.”

  She looks at me plaintively, her chest rising and falling. “I overheard them, Tyler. The women whispered that I dressed like a homeless person.” She hiccups on the last word, and a new round of tears erupts.

  Shit, shit, as my new boss would say. I dug myself into this one. I look around desperately. The walls aren’t offering any advice, the bastards.

  I brush my knee closer to her leg and lean my forearms on my thighs. “First, a dictation machine allows someone to record a message, like a letter or whatever, so that it can be typed. Software programs can do that for you now, along with the typing.”

  She looks at me in question.

  “I was a teacher. We didn’t have a regular secretary. I did my own paperwork,” I say. “As for clothes, if you’ve never worked in an office setting, it’s understandable you don’t have the right clothes. We’ll go shopping this evening. Some of the stores stay open late. We should be able to find you something. And the women stare because they’re jealous. Take it as a compliment. The guys, though…Names. I need names.”

  “Really?”

  She’s okay with me fucking up the guys in her office who leer at her? ’Cause I will.

  “You’ll go shopping with me?”

  Oh. “Yeah, I’ll go. I can’t promise I’ll be much help. Don’t expect me to pick out colors or anything, but I’m pretty good at holding up walls.”

  Her eyes study me, an almost shy expression lifting her pretty face.

  Ah, shit. If it’s this easy to make Mira happy, and this easy for her to wrap a little piece of herself around my heart, I’m a dead man.

  Mira bends over in a slim off-white skirt. “Can you see my underwear through this?”

  She has the perfect ass. Like, literally, the most well-formed ass I’ve ever seen. Round but firm, curvy but proportional. I’d like to grab that backside she’s pointed in my face and nip it with my teeth.

  Killing me softly, that’s what she’s doing. “Christ, Mira,” I growl.

  She looks over her shoulder and straightens. “Oh, sorry.” Her blush seems totally genuine.

  For a pretty girl, she doesn’t know her effect on men. Or maybe she just doesn’t realize her effect on me.

  Mira doesn’t ask for any more advice about how the clothes look, because, yeah, all I do is check out her body. I try to pay attention, but the stuff underneath is extremely distracting.

  She buys a few clothes and a new pair of shoes, checking all the tags multiple times and buying only sale items. I want to rip the tags off the merchandise so she can’t look and stuff a wad of bills in her hand. I hate that she’s worried about money. And I can’t do anything about it, because that would be weird, me buying her clothes.

  “Let me buy you ice cream. I owe you after you hung out with me while I shopped. Lewis would never do that. He hates shopping.”

  So do I, but I don’t mention it. Makes me look like a giant softy who will do whatever it takes to make this girl happy. And that’s not me. Not anymore. Mira just looked so sad earlier. There’s no doubt she’s going through a rough time right now. Any decent person would have offered to help.

  “I never turn down ice cream.”

  Mira shoves her shopping bags on the floorboard of my Land Cruiser, and my eyes skim over her as she scoots into the passenger side. I cringe as the torn upholstery snags the fabric of her top. She’s not injured tonight, so I don’t know why this bothers me, but it does.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” I say absently, paying attention to the road instead of the girl who makes me feel things I’ve never felt for anyone else. Protectiveness. And such longing that my chest aches.

  “Whatever happened to your dad?”

  I shrug. “He bailed on my mom.”

  “Do you still talk to him?”

  “He calls now and then. We have a relationship, but we’re not close.”

  It’s odd thinking of my dad. He’s more a stranger than a parent. I’m pretty sure he can’t help the way he is. He never provided for us. Couldn’t seem to keep a job that paid enough. My mom worked hard when he was around, trying to take care of all of us. Things were easier once he left.

  “We’re more like casual friends,” I add. “He calls to see what I’m working on. That’s about the extent of our conversations. And he doesn’t get Cali at all. She’s too emotional for him. My dad is ridiculously intelligent, to the point of being oblivious.”

  My dad never knew how to show affection, especially with my mom. I worried when I was younger that I might end up like him. But I’m not like him. I have no end of feelings around Mira. There are too many when it comes to her.

  I chuckle. “I don’t know. Maybe my dad has a touch of Asperger’s or something. It wouldn’t shock me. Cali’s crazy book smart too, but not so much common-sense smart. Correction, make that book smart as long as we’re not talking math. In that case, she’s remedial at
best.”

  “I’m the opposite. I’m street smart, but not book smart.” Mira says this so matter-of-factly that I can’t help but look over, my brow furrowing.

  “I disagree. You were good at algebra in high school once I pointed out a few things. You’re a quick learner.”

  She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, a shy smile pulling the corners of her mouth as she points out an empty parking space in front of the ice cream parlor.

  I pull up and we get out of the car. I follow Mira to the glass door of the shop, holding it open for her, wondering what exactly I’m doing. This feels like a date, but that’s not what this is. I felt bad for Mira. She had a shitty day. She’s not getting under my skin.

  We select our ice cream cones—hers pralines and cream, which somehow fits. It requires a sophisticated palate. Totally contrary to what I’d expect of Mira, so of course that’s the one she selects just to fuck with my head.

  I ask for a strawberry/cookies ’n’ cream double-decker, and I hand the server a twenty. My own flavor combo is an acquired taste.

  “Hey, I wanted to pay for that.” Mira stares at the twenty-dollar bill as it disappears into the cash register and the attendant hands me the change.

  “You can get me next time,” I tell her.

  She tucks her cash back in the small turquoise wallet I notice is missing the zipper tab. Why these little things—the broken suitcase, buying only sale items, a beat-up wallet—bother me, I don’t know. But they do. They really fucking do. She lived with a wealthy family most of her life, but that doesn’t seem to have changed the way she lives or her mindset about what she has.

  This girl shouldn’t have the responsibility of caring for a druggie mother. She shouldn’t be in debt because of said mother, and forced to fend off people like Asshole.

  We take a booth, and I study her face. “Why won’t you tell Lewis the truth?”

  She pauses before licking her cone. “He doesn’t understand why I help my mom. And it’s not his fault I owe the money. It’s my responsibility to pay it back.”

  “It’s not your fault you owe the money, either.”

  Her eyes flicker to me. “Of course it is. I borrowed it.”

  “Everyone needs help sometimes.”

  She doesn’t say anything at first. She shifts in her seat. “Lewis already gave me money for the loan. I asked him for half. I’ll pay off the rest.”

  “Only half? For your nonexistent gambling problem. That’s a good one, Mira, considering you have issues around spending money on yourself.”

  The side of her mouth notches back in annoyance. “Do you know how shitty it felt to ask him for money that indirectly pays for my mother’s cocaine problem? It was wrong of me to do it. I shouldn’t have gone to him. If he knew the truth, he’d be so angry. He’s been telling me to stay away from her for years. To cut the tie. One of these days he’s going to cut the tie with me instead.”

  “He wouldn’t do that,” I say automatically.

  She stares at her ice cream without saying anything.

  This conversation has gotten entirely too serious. I never meant to tell Mira about my dad, whom I never talk about. And I didn’t mean to bring up painful shit for Mira and make her feel worse about the situation she’s in.

  “You should give Lewis more credit. He’s a good guy. He wouldn’t ditch you because he was mad. You don’t get rid of family, and that guy thinks of you as his sister.”

  “Exactly.”

  Huh? She’s agreeing with me?

  “You don’t give up on family,” she says lightly. “What kind of person would I be if I gave up on my mom?”

  I just fucked myself there. “A smart one? Look, of course you don’t want to hurt your mom, but you can’t let people use you. And that woman uses you.”

  “I know. I’m working on it. I’m making changes.” She gives me a weary smile. “Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? Let’s just enjoy our ice creams.”

  I nod. I don’t want to make Mira feel worse, so I drop it.

  But my efforts to spare Mira from thinking about her mom are for nothing. When we return to the house, as if her ears pricked at our conversation at the ice cream parlor, Mira’s mother is sitting on our porch patio, smoking a cigarette. There’s no car in the driveway, but the jalopy she pulled up in the other day is parked down the street.

  I glance at Mira, who’s collecting her bags from my car and watching her mom nervously out of the corner of her eye. “Want me to ask her to leave?”

  Mira peers up in surprise. Because I would ask her mom to leave? Shit yes, I would. That woman doesn’t deserve Mira.

  She shakes her head. “No. I’ll talk to her.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mira

  My mother looks furious, and haggard. “Where’ve you been, girl?”

  I glance at the front window of the cabin, my shopping bags in hand. Tyler walked inside so I could talk to my mom. I don’t see him, but I take her through the side gate to the back of the house anyway.

  My mother’s eyes narrow on the bags in my hands as she shuffles along the dirt and pine needles, her gait slower than I remember. “Shopping? Is that how you been spending your time while I been lookin’ everywhere for you?”

  She turns abruptly and knocks one of the plastic bags from my hand. “Your mother got people after her, and you’re out shopping?”

  For a moment, I am filled with guilt and shame; then reality sets in. I have nothing to be ashamed of. I paid off the debt that had my mother’s life in danger, according to her. “I have a new job and I needed clothes.”

  “A new job, eh?” Her gaze is calculating. “The pay any better?”

  “Yeah.” I pick up the shopping bag she knocked to the ground, and clench it in my hand.

  “That’s good. You’ve been saying you want to earn more.”

  I wouldn’t need to if it weren’t for her, but I keep that to myself.

  “I could use money myself right now. Been hard up since you didn’t show the other day. That boy”—she frowns toward the front of the house—“he said you got in a scrape.” She scans my body. “You seem okay.”

  “I’m okay,” I agree.

  “Good. How much you got on you? You went shopping, so you must have a lot.”

  I swallow. This is the moment I’ve been dreading.

  “Mom…”

  “What is it? Spit it out, girl. I don’t have all day.”

  “I—I can’t give you any more money.” I’m rattled, my voice not at all smooth.

  “Why not?” she snaps.

  “Because I don’t have it to give.” It’s the plain truth, but the meaning is double. I don’t have extra cash. It’s all going to paying off my debt. And I can’t keep helping her at the expense of my life.

  She nods, her mouth twisting. “I see how it is, Mira. You got enough for yourself, but nothing for your mom.”

  “That’s not how it is. I’m cash-strapped too, but I also don’t want our relationship to be all about money. I’d like to spend time—”

  “Relationship? What relationship? You’re a selfish little bitch is what you are.”

  I can’t breathe. Heat and pressure build behind my eyes. “Please don’t say that.” My voice comes out on a whisper.

  “Oh, I got more to say, but I won’t. Won’t waste my breath.” She knocks into my shoulder on her way past me.

  I stare after her. “Mom, please don’t leave.”

  I am pitiful, even to myself.

  My mother ignores my words and slams the gate closed behind her.

  I turn and face the tall pines in the backyard, trying to regain my composure. I knew this was coming. Knew she’d react this way when I told her, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  I wipe a tear from my eye and straighten my shoulders.

  At least Tyler didn’t witness the humiliation of my mother leaving me. Again.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tyler doesn’t ask questions about my
mom’s visit, and I’m grateful. I go to work the next day less self-conscious in my new clothes, though still hurt about my mom. I did the right thing for both of us, and that’s what’s important. My hope is that someday we can build a relationship based on a genuine foundation, and not me giving her money all the time.

  I train with Hayden all day and don’t see Tyler until evening. He’s at the dining table, booting up his computer, when I walk in.

  “How was your day?” he asks.

  “Better.” I set my purse on the couch.

  Tyler stares at me, then at his laptop. He shuts it abruptly. “What do you think about going for a bike ride?”

  I don’t say anything at first. Tyler and I have never done anything fun together. The shopping expedition was more a forced situation. “Um, I don’t own a bike.”

  “You don’t need one. Just change and meet me out front. If we hurry, we can catch the sunset.”

  I stand there, just staring.

  He glances up from putting away his computer. “Hurry up, Mira. The sun doesn’t wait for anyone.”

  Without another word, I do as he says. When I meet Tyler out front, he’s on his bike, a sweatshirt over his long-sleeved T.

  I zip up my fleece jacket and pull a knit cap over my head, the waves of my hair tickling my cheeks. “I still don’t own a bike, Tyler.”

  “Not a problem. We’ll do this like we did the last time. It’s only a few blocks to the beach.”

  Like the last time. In the woods? When I rode on his lap? “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

  He studies my face. “Chicken?”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right.” But I totally am. Doesn’t stop me from walking over.

  He opens his arm. “Sit sideways so your legs stick out the side. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  I do as he says and slide across the top of his thighs. There’s no way for us to make this work without me wrapping my arm over his broad shoulders and sitting high up, right above his crotch.