checking to make sure I wasn’t dead.
The knock came again and I decided one thing my dreams never did was knock. If someone was knocking at the door, they were probably real.
“Go away,” I said.
My head was pounding now, and it looked like I wasn’t going to get any peace until I took care of whatever it was. I crawled out of bed and looked in the mirror; my nightshirt was long enough to cover up everything that needed covering, which, admittedly, wasn’t much. I plodded out into the living room and opened the front door a little bit.
“What?” I asked.
I guess I was expecting either one of the take-out guys or some kid selling something, because no one from the apartment complex ever knocked on my door. Once in a while I forgot that I ordered food and got surprised by the delivery guy, but even they knew to just leave it if I didn’t answer.
It wasn’t a delivery guy, though, and it wasn’t a kid peddling something. It was the woman who lived in the apartment below me, standing there with a black eye and a cardboard box in her hands.
“Uh, hi,” she said. “I’m—”
“Yeah,” I said, “from downstairs. What do you want?”
“I’m Karen,” she said. She was looking at me expectantly. My head really hurt, and I was dying of thirst. I couldn’t figure out what she wanted.
“And you are?” she asked finally, extending her hand a little.
“Right,” I said, “Zoe. I’m Zoe.”
Her hand hovered between us uncertainly. I gave it a little shake.
“Look, no offense, but what do you want?”
“I just …wanted to …”
“Wanted to what?”
“Thank you,” she said. “I just wanted to thank you. I’ve never thanked you.”
“Oh.”
“Here,” she said, holding out the box, “I hope sugar cookies are okay. I would have made something better, but I didn’t know if you had any allergies or anything.”
I took the box.
“You made cookies for me?”
“Well, I bought them.”
“Why?”
She gave me a frustrated look, and I could tell she was starting to get upset.
“I mean, thanks,” I said. “Sorry, I don’t know what to do in these situations.”
“Usually you invite the other person in,” she said.
“My place is kind of a mess. Like, really.”
She smiled and nodded, but the smile didn’t stay. She looked upset, and I felt bad. I actually thought about letting her in, but I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t let anyone see my place the way it looked.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“No, really, maybe some other—”
“How do you do it?” she asked suddenly.
“Do what?”
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Ted, when he gets like he does sometimes …like he was last night. You just tell him to calm down and he does. You just …switch him off. How do you—”
“Don’t read too much into it.”
One thing I learned a long time ago was not to talk about that. Bringing it up was a mistake.
“You shouldn’t hide it,” she said.
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“You do something to him,” she insisted. “I’ve watched it; it’s like your face changes. Your eyes change. Something happens. It’s like something passes between you, and he just stops being angry.”
“Maybe it’s my personality.”
I had meant it as a joke, but she made this kind of “as if” expression when I said it. My face started getting hot.
“No offense, but it’s not that,” she said.
“Yeah, well, no offense, but go away.”
“I don’t know how you do it, but he’s actually gotten better since you started coming down.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “If I could influence people, would I be living here, like this? Even if I could influence people, it doesn’t mean I can change anything that’s going to happen. I can’t change anything that’s going to happen; you should think about that.”
I focused on her and the lights surged brighter, the colors draining away. She looked surprised for just a second.
“There,” she said, pointing at my face. “That’s …”
Her finger stopped, hanging there. The aura around her head was blue and red, licking out curiously. I pushed it back.
“I can’t change what’s going to happen to you,” I told her. She didn’t say anything; she just stood there, her eyelids drooping a bit. For a minute I thought about trying to give her the idea to dump the stupid ox, but there wasn’t anything I could do. He had his hooks into her way deeper than I ever could, and nothing I did could change anything anyway.
He’d kill her eventually. It wasn’t my fault.
“Thanks for the cookies,” I said, “but I don’t know what you’re talking about. You have things to do. You should go do them.”
“Yeah,” she said slowly, and smiled. “I just wanted to swing by and say thanks. I’d better get going.”
“Bye.”
She turned and walked away, and I was just in the process of snapping the door shut when someone spoke to my right.
“It’s unfortunate.”
When I looked over, an older guy with red hair and a red beard was standing in the doorway of the apartment next to mine.
“Unfortunate?”
“That girl.”
Who was this guy? Why was he talking to me?
“Do you take care of the old woman?” I asked.
“The previous tenant passed away,” the man said, smiling gently. “Over a month ago. I am your new neighbor.”
“Oh. So, why is it unfortunate?”
“It’s unfortunate you choose to waste your time on someone who doesn’t want to be helped.”
A few different responses came to mind, and later I thought up some better ones, but what came out was less biting than I’d hoped.
“Whatever, jerk.”
He was talking, I think, when I shut the door and locked it. Who did he think he was anyway? My time was mine to waste on whatever I wanted.
I put the box on the counter and went back into the bedroom. Cookies. Why the hell did she go and do that? What was I supposed to say? Why did she even stay with him, and why did she have to just stand there looking like she did when I went down there?
I took the bottle off the nightstand, uncapped it, and took a swig. It burned going down and hit my stomach like a brick. I took two more swallows and put it back. Drinking when I first got up wasn’t a good idea, but the whole thing had me totally on edge.
There was a glass on the floor next to the bed, half full of water. I picked it up and took a gulp; it was warm
