The City | GirlxGirl

three ➳

The bed was the only piece of furniture they had assembled before calling it a night. The sheets smelled like Jude's bed at home, and she couldn't help her silent sobs as soon as Thom turned off the light. He didn't know what to do when she cried; he was awkward. She couldn't blame him. She wouldn't have the slightest idea of what to do if he ever cried in front of her. But he never had.

His alarm was loud. She had woken up, watched him pull on his suit, said goodbye and good luck. He didn't seem excited, but then again, he never did. She knew he was probably nervous about his first day. She wished she could be there with him, or could say something to comfort him, but knew her actions would be rejected.

She slept well into the morning, wishing that she could open her eyes and the apartment would be furnished, rather than having to open all the boxes and assemble all the furniture on her own. Nonetheless, she pulled herself out of bed, pulled on one of Thom's dress shirts, and enjoyed the way the fabric brushed against her skin.

Spending the day unpacking the various boxes and assembling the furniture she could manage on her own, her mind wandered to three blocks away, where Thom would most likely be sat at a desk, a cup of cold coffee resting next to his keyboard as he typed away at who knows what. Jude often felt guilty for lacking knowledge of Thom's profession, but reminded herself that he lacked interest in hers. Not that she had a profession, exactly, but still. He never cared about what she planned, or wanted to do, career-wise.

Jude wasn't easily bothered, by Thom, or by anyone, really. She was as easy-going as they come. But today she felt it on her shoulders: a heavy weight that she wasn't strong enough to lift off. The feeling made her uneasy-she didn't want to be irritated by Thom on only their second day of living together. Deciding that she would let all tension go, she retrieved a box of tea bags from one of the cardboard boxes she had packed from home. The kitchen, now fully furnished, was brightly lit from the wide-open windows in their living room, as she had pulled the drapes back to reveal the afternoon's golden sunshine. She spun around the tiled floor, glad they had chosen this apartment, which had been the largest out of the other six they had toured. As she filled the kettle with water, she hummed to herself, enjoying the peace and quiet; she felt fully at ease in her solitude.

She heard the key slide into the lock before the door opened, slamming against the wall, and suddenly slamming shut again. Mostly furnished now, the apartment wasn't empty, but the sound seemed to reverberate against the walls as though it was. Jude had jumped, shocked-of course, she knew it was Thom, but she hadn't been expecting him back so early. In the process of her startle, she had spilled the water from the kettle on her hand. Both shocked and in pain, she had screamed, which had angered Thom, as he kicked his dress shoes against the wall and only added to the symphony of disorder that ensued in their apartment.

"Why are you home so early?" Jude held a hand to her chest, covered only by the thin t-shirt she had slept in; her fingers brushed the collar of the dress shirt she wore, and she immediately froze. She had never worn any of Thom's clothes before, and was unsure how he'd react.

Thom grimaced, eyeing Jude's body. Her legs were bare, the dress shirt just reaching the top of her thighs. He grunted, emerald eyes averting towards the window. He walked, back hunching in his sulking fashion, and pulled the drapes shut.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, keeping his body towards the window and his back to Jude.

"What happened?"

The way he looked at her-sharp features, his jaw drawn tight, and his eyes no longer soft-flooded her with panic. She wasn't used to seeing him look so threatening towards her. And his voice, usually at a volume of just above a whisper, now seemed to be amplified through a microphone. "I just said I don't want to talk about it, Jude."

Jude nodded once. Don't make any sudden moves, her father had once told her as they rounded the side of their house late at night, and found themselves face to face with a raccoon.

Standing here, with Thom loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, letting his hair fall into his eyes as he avoided Jude's curious gaze, was like that moment. Her heartbeat was audible to her, and she wondered if Thom could hear it too-if, like the door slam followed by her scream and his voice, it cast shadows against the plain white walls and suffocated him like it was suffocating her. All she could hear throughout their silence was the hum of her own body on edge, every inch of her lit up like she'd been struck by lightning. She had never found herself so afraid while in the presence of Thom. He brought her comfort, protection, against her fears about the world.

She had never considered Thom to be one of those fears.

He stood, his tie now undone and the top of his shirt open, leant against the doorframe. Jude tried to justify his anger. It wasn't directed towards her; he must have had a rough start with his job. Not only that, he had barely said anything to her-she wasn't even sure if you could consider his growl of "I don't want to talk about it" projection at her.

She was thinking rationally now. With her hand under cold water in the sink, she closed her eyes. Inhaled and exhaled, slowly. The fear she had briefly experienced wasn't elicited by Thom, it was caused by the scalding water on her skin, and the door she didn't expect to be opened, opening.

Hesitantly turning off the tap, she turned towards the front door. Thom's eyes were closed, but, like an alarm, they opened immediately and fixated on Jude's blue eyes. Ice, he always said, you've got a warm heart, Jude, but cold eyes.

"I'm sorry-" Jude began, and it didn't occur to her then that she didn't have anything to apologize for.

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

Her hand stung. She had been burned worse before, by a curling iron when she was five years old and had snuck into her parent's bathroom, pretending to be her mother. The skin had turned red in blotches around the area that water had spilled. She found herself self-consciously moving the hand behind her back, hiding it behind Thom's large shirt, her face now turning red as well.

"I don't know," she said. Truth. She had never worn any article of clothing that belonged to Thom. When she had woken that morning and seen it there, hers for the taking without anyone to stop her, perhaps she just put it on to feed her curiosity. She had always wondered what his clothes would smell like when they weren't covering his body. To her disappointment, they didn't smell like anything other than laundry, and even then it wasn't a distinct smell.

The corners of his pale lips turned downwards. Thom didn't smile much, nor did he frown often. His mouth remained in a straight, tight line, unless he was truly moved by something.

"Take it off." He started moving towards her, ran a hand through his hair so she could see his eyes. Dark eyebrows narrowed, a crease in the centre of his forehead. "And don't touch my stuff again."

Jude found herself biting back a response of, isn't my stuff now your stuff, and your stuff mine? "We live together, Thom," she said instead, hoping to covertly convey her thoughts.

"Right. But that doesn't mean you can wear my clothes, or take my things. It's not like we suddenly became a single person."

Is that what Jude had wanted? To move into the same room with Thom, and suddenly become inseparable-for them, two halves, to merge and form a whole? She would gladly give Thom anything of hers. There was no limit to what she wouldn't do for him.

Perhaps it was just nerves? Stress? Thom never adjusted to change well. And now they were in a city they had never lived in, far away from their families and friends-not that Thom had ever had many close friends in Kenora. And a new job. And living together. They had never spent a long period of time in such close proximity to each other.

That was it, she decided. He was trying to cope with the change. She couldn't blame him for that.

Jude pulled off the dress shirt she'd been wearing, sauntered into their bedroom and re-hung it in the same spot inside the closet as it had been before, listening to the sound of the shower turn on and Thom's bare feet padding against the bathroom floor. Returning to the kitchen, she found her tea steaming hot, but drained the mug anyways.