“Jacket,” she says in a quiet, tired voice. I’m not looking, but I sense her pick it up and put it in the bin.
I bend to remove my shoes, then change my mind and straighten slowly back up.
“Do you need some help?” I hear the fabric of her clothes swish as she steps toward me.
I turn away from her. I bend again, reach for my shoes, and end up on my ass. The cold of the tile bleeds through the fabric of my pants. I tug the shoes off, then the socks.
I hear the soles of her Chucks mnnchh against the floor behind me. I hear her scoop my shoes up. The bag inside the bin crinkles as she deposits them inside. Unsanitary: everything on me.
“I’m going to step around you, Kellan. Turn the shower on. Just do the same thing with your pants. I’ll get them off the floor.”
I clutch my head.
“I can help you up if you want. Do you want me to?” Motherfuck, she’s right behind me.
“No,” I growl.
I clench my jaw. I can’t believe she’s even here with me—but that’s Whitney. Compulsively dependable. Like a sister... that my brother fucks.
FUCKED.
“Go away,” I snap.
I hear her retreat over by the door. I don’t feel any guilt, although I know I should.
I get to my feet without her help and drop my running pants. I hope to fuck she isn’t looking. That’s just... weird.
I look over at the shower stall. The door is open, and now that the water’s been running for a minute, a familiar, acrid scent leaks across the small bathroom, wafting to the low ceiling in bluish tufts of steam.
My knees feel weak as I try to figure out where she is now, within the room. I can feel her eyes on me. I hear her soft sniff.
“Go on, Kellan. You can get in. I’m not looking.”
Stepping into the shower is a hard thing for me. I’m too tired to discern why, but my chest aches as I do it. The water is lukewarm, like always. Might as well be freezing. I shiver and step under the chemical water.
I don’t move, just let it roll over me. They should really make this water warmer. I deserve warm water, I think numbly.
I sense Whitney move in front of the rippled glass door.
“Kellan?” she calls.
What the hell is wrong with her?
“I’m out here, but I can’t see you. I’m sorry to corner you like this, but I’m going to talk. You need to listen.”
I snort, pulling steam into my nose. The chemicals in the water burn into my sinuses like cocaine.
“I need you to hear me. Okay, Kellan?”
I shut my eyes.
“You made a bad choice, K. I get you lost your cool... but you might have ruined this whole thing in doing that. Have you thought about what that means? Is that what you even want? To force yourself into a corner?” Her voice echoes through the tiny room. “Is that what you want?” Her voice is breathy quiet; shrill. Because she’s on the verge of tears. “I want to know. Is that what you want, Kellan? To just... give up?”
I look down at myself. I hate everything about my life right now—including her. So I tell her, “Go the fuck away. And Whitney? Don’t come back.”
I want a dog... but I don’t have one. I don’t think I... pet him on the head. He’s warm. Soft hair.
“Roll over.”