I lie across the couch in my mom's apartment, preparing myself to talk nicely to her boyfriend-man-person. I've only met him once, during Christmas last year when I visited him with my mom,
"How are you, sweetie? You've been so quiet." Mom takes the pizza out of the oven and comes into the living room. She sits on the coffee table and pats my leg.
"Fine." I say it in a groan-y voice.
"How's Cambriel?"
"I think he's enjoying himself."
"He misses you."
"Yeah, I know."
The buzzer goes off and she stands to let him in.
Her boyfriend is a balding animal-anesthesiologist. He's a professor in PEI, but I'm pretty they met in the city during my freshman year.
I make nice at the table, just kind of drowning. He's been in here so much, and everything is a memory.
I sit on the balcony because I must enjoy inflicting pain on myself. (Nonsexual masochism?) The balcony is empty; as far as I know, the de Luca's still own it and haven't leased it since he left,
"Hey," I never actually noticed the balcony on the other side. It's a blond boy with big biceps.
I go back inside.
YOU ARE READING
Conversations From Afar
Short StorySEQUEL TO BALCONIAL CONVERSATIONS | In which Katherine and Cambriel suffer the ups and downs of a long distance relationship | Wattys 2016 | cover by the fabulous @kdkellow
