the things we do in the dark (+18)

11

Seven Months Later

Tick tock, tick tock, click. The sound repeats.

Can someone shut that goddamn thing off?

"Stop that," Iverem's mother says, swiping her hands from her mouth. "Nasty habit."

The nurse behind the counter watches them from above her cat-eye glasses. The sanitized white walls of the clinic begin to close in on Iverem. Her mother is right, nail biting is a nasty habit, but it's the only thing keeping her calm right now.

It's the fourth of July tomorrow. Time has passed, but Iverem feels as though nothing has changed. A week after she left Colorado back to Texas, Jonah started calling her. They had some pretty intense conversations about their relationship and what was lacking in it. Once Iverem felt like she'd given him the closure he needed, she kept their nightly calls short and diplomatic.

But Jonah was the only person who checked on Iverem when her mother forgot to turn the oven off and almost burned down her apartment or left the patio door open and let her cat run out. And even though Iverem never found her cat, Jonah was there throughout the ordeal. Now they were planning things together. Iverem didn't know if she wanted to go down this route with Jonah again, but he made things easy. Yet, after all the shit she's been through, didn't she deserve for her life to be easy, to have the privilege to surrender to the inevitable.

Iverem's never been good at letting go, though. She realizes this as each hour passes, and as her dread increases over the idea of attending Jonah's Fourth of July barbeque. She's going to see his family for the first time since Christmas and doesn't know what to expect. Do they know what she did? Is August going to be there? And if he is, how the fuck is she supposed to act?

Tick tock, tick tock, click.

The doctor's door bursts open. "Iverem, come in," the doctor says.

Thank god, she sighs.

Dr. Collins does her mother's general wellness check while Iverem studies the brain chart on her office wall.

"How have things been since you've finally settled in Dallas?" Dr. Collin says.

"It's so damn humid here. I've been having –" she blanks on the word. "What do you call that thing where you get too hot."

"Hot flashes?" Dr. Collins answers.

"Yes, that's it," her mother says.

"And you," Dr. Collins swivels her chair in Iverem's direction. "How have you been doing?"

"I've been good." This appointment is about her mother's health, not hers.

The doctor jots some notes down. She turns around and rifles through some papers in her drawer, looking for a pamphlet, which she hands to her mother. She smiles at Iverem's mother before she says anything else. "The progression of your memory loss has decreased since you've started taking life a little slower. I suggest incorporating some physical exercises to keep yourself active – keep your brain stimulated."

On the drive back to Iverem's apartment, her mother indignantly looks through the pamphlet. When they arrive home, she throws it in the trash.

"Do this, don't do that," she huffs. "I'm tired of everyone telling me what to do."

Iverem ignores her. She starts biting her nails again.

~

Jonah's Fourth of July barbeque is in full swing. His mom and dad are on his deck, sitting on some patio chairs, talking over beers. His high school friends, Sandra and Omar, are testing out not-so-legal fireworks and sparklers on the lawn. And Iverem, she hides in the kitchen, prepping the hamburgers and hotdogs while Jonah operates the grill. There's a slow country song playing from the TV speaker. Iverem attempts to match her pitch to the soothing tenor of the singer's vocals. The day is strangely idyllic.

When she heads outside to hand Jonah the rest of the patties, even though her sapphire ten-gallon hat shields her from most of the summer sun, the humidity still causes her to sweat.

"Thank you, honey," Jonah says, kissing her cheek. "You good?"

Why does everyone keep asking me that?

Surprisingly, she is feeling good. Three shots of tequila and a lime mojito will make anybody – in any circumstance – feel good. But she doesn't tell Jonah this; she just nods.

"We can use some help over here!" Sandra says as she and Omar fail to hang a piñata.

"You mind?" Jonah says.

"No. I mean, sure, I can," she says.

Omar and Sandra lift the glittery multicoloured donkey piñata. Iverem keeps the pole still. Gold and emerald tissue paper fall on them.

"Steady," Omar says.

"Why is this thing so fucking heavy?" Iverem says.

"There are about ten mini vodka bottles in there," Sandra says.

She laughs. "Jesus, are y'all trying to send us to the hospital?"

"It ain't fun if there ain't no consequences," she says.

Iverem doesn't know why, but those words strike a chord within her.

Movement on the deck grabs her attention. By the patio chairs, August and his wife exchange pleasantries with everyone. The wavy dark brown hair that used to fall on August's forehead and curl behind his ears is gone. A militaristic buzzcut has replaced the luscious locks, giving his face a sharper profile. And a deep summer tan has turned his beige skin to bronze, bringing forth the vibrancy of his cool green eyes and making him appear almost ethereal.

When their gazes connect, her mouth goes dry, and she drops the pole. The piñata busts open. Liquor bottles and candies spill onto the grass. August smirks at her before he looks away. Iverem doesn't feel so good anymore.

"Shit," Omar says. Sandra and Omar scramble to clean up the mess.

Iverem apologizes to them and heads back into the kitchen.

What is she going to do? She can't avoid him the whole night. Iverem will have to talk to him at some point, but what will she say? Most importantly, what will he say? He's not stupid enough to snitch on her to Jonah, but will he hold that night in the gazebo over her head? She shotguns a bottle of beer. And then another. She stops binging when her vision starts to get hazy.

"It's been a while," August says.

Speak of the devil. She almost jumps out of her skin at the sound of his voice. This man should carry a bell with him.

"It has," she says. She takes a big breath before she faces him. "How are you?"

He leans on the counter next to her, his eyes probing her. "I doubt you really care."

Why does he always have to be so difficult? she sighs. She might as well get to the point, then. "Ok, well, are we cool?"

"Me and you?" he says, wearing her patience thin. "We'll always be cool."

A smile blossoms on her lips as relief overcomes her. He smiles at her too. Maybe they could get over their ridiculous infatuation for one another and even become friends. It wasn't strange for things like this to happen. In college, Sandra and Omar used to date. After they broke up, they became friends again. They didn't get into petty arguments or jealous fights over each other's following partners, so Iverem wholeheartedly believes August and her can at least be cordial.

"What're you thinking?" he says.

He seems closer than he was before. His breath warms her cheek, and the smoke on his clothes is strong – intoxicating. Tingles run up and down her spine. She can't quite make out the angular features of August's face anymore.

A blur, like the streak of a fingerprint over her eyes, impairs her vision. Her world tilts and then goes dark.