Pause (Larsen Bros)

“You’re so cunning. I love it.”

“Thank you. Know your enemy, right?”

“Remind me never to divorce you.” He gives me a wink. Him and those damn winks. They turn my stomach upside down each and every time, dammit. “And you’ve obviously given this a lot of thought.”

“Half of that life and its contents are mine. Because of his bad choices we have to go through all of this.” I sigh. “It’s hard to think about anything else right now, honestly. I may or may not have a couple of revenge fantasies running through my head. Nothing that would physically harm either one of them. Just really inconvenience the shit out of them and teach ’em a lesson, you know?”

He just nods.

“It’s funny. Well, it’s not funny. It’s strange, maybe.” I shift in the seat, all the better to see him.

“Go on.”

“I could almost understand him needing physical affection or relief involving someone other than himself after so long,” I say. “If he’d gone to a sex worker to get it, I think I could have accepted that better given the circumstances. I would have been hurt initially, sure. But then I would have understood, I think.”

“Okay.”

“Is it weird to talk about this?” I ask, feeling distinctly weird about it. “Maybe it’s weird to feel this way at all.”

“No. You’re safe with me.”

“Right. Okay.” I take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“That’s all?”

I shrug. “What more is there to say? He didn’t go to a sex worker. He went to my best friend. And she obviously reciprocated, and that relationship continued well beyond the point he promised me. Obviously. Because if it had only happened once at her apartment with a condom, there likely wouldn’t be a baby on the way.”

“You asked for details?”

“I wanted to know if they’d done it in our house,” I explain. “In our bed. I wanted to know if he’d protected himself and me from any possible diseases or whatever. How disrespectful and stupid the sin was, exactly.”

A nod.

“The first place is on West Street.”

“Tell me about it,” he says.

“Two bedrooms, one bathroom, wood-burning fireplace and big bay windows.”

“Sounds nice. What else have you got?”

“A new one-bedroom, one-bathroom in the East End and an old one-bedroom, two-bathroom in West Bayside.”

“That’s a lot of bathrooms for one person,” he says.

“And both have heated floors.”

“Delightful.”

“The question is, do I want to go more old-fashioned or something urban loft style with high ceilings,” I ponder. “I’ve never lived on my own before. Never gotten to choose my own place.”

“I’d be more interested in location so you can walk wherever you want to go out. What restaurants and bars are nearby and so on,” he says. “You’re investing in a possible lifestyle, you know?”

“That makes sense.”

“So you basically don’t know what kind of apartment you want or where you want it, apart from roughly somewhere in the city.”

“Basically.”

“Any concerns about living on your own so soon after everything?” he asks, shooting me a glance. “Again, not to take the wind out of your sails, young Anna. Just wondering.”

“Yes,” I admit. “Some. But as much as I love my parents, I can’t keep living with them. For all of our sakes.”

“Fair enough. What about work?”

“Hoping to find something part-time in a couple of months maybe. It depends how rehab goes. I think I could handle maybe fifteen hours a week to start off. That’s what I’m working toward, at least.”

“What about money? Not to be nosey, but how is the divorce affecting things?”

“It would probably be more sensible to wait until everything is sorted, but due to Ryan buying me out of my half of the house I can afford something small.”

He hits the signal and pulls over beside a park. Children are playing on the slides, all happy and carefree. Big old trees shade the playground. It’s picturesque. There’s a small pain inside of me at the sight of the children. Not the greater hurt that I’d have imagined the scene would cause. Maybe I wasn’t completely ready for being a parent. Or maybe the idea of bringing a child into the world while everything is so unsettled just doesn’t appeal. I don’t know. But there’s time to figure it out later with the right person, which Ryan obviously isn’t. What I thought was a bright and brilliant future with him is most definitely not and I need to get used to that idea. Embrace it. I need to open myself to the new challenges or something.

“Okay,” says Leif. “Crazy idea time.”

“Crazy idea time?”

“Move in with me.”

“What?” And there I go sounding screechy again. So uncool.

He nods, all self-assured. Not an iota of doubt in his amber gaze. “Firstly, you have furniture, right?”

“Some. Yes. But—”

“Secondly,” he says, then stops. “Oh, shit. I interrupted you again. Sorry. You go.”

“What is secondly?” I ask, crossing my arms.