EDGES

by C. G. Carroll

  Patrick nodded. A sense of loneliness settled on him. “You want to play some chess or something?”

  “Now?”

  “It’ll help you think about something else for a little while. I know I could use it.”

  Josh ultimately gave a conciliatory nod. Over the years they’d played chess often, usually with a drink.

  Patrick got the chess set out and set it up at the table while Josh changed clothes. It was like a weight had been lifted. Speaking so openly about what had happened was the cure that Patrick needed.

  Josh sat down, looking refreshed with new, crisp clothes on and Patrick caught a hint of cologne freshly applied. Josh still cared about Simone very much, whether he’d admit it or not. And chances were near ninety-five percent that if Simone really was pregnant, that it was Josh’s and he should be with her in the end.

  Patrick checked his phone to see if Mallory had texted or if anyone had texted. But no texts had come in.

  They started into their game, each of them strategizing, taking a minute or two between moves. It was like old times, like looking through a window back into their old life. Patrick felt lucky to be able to visit it one last time.

  Fifteen minutes in, Patrick had taken both of Josh’s knights, a rook, and a bishop, and was closing in on Josh’s queen. It didn’t seem right to beat him so convincingly, so he floundered for a few moves.

  At the twenty-minute mark, he’d lost a few pieces to Josh and was dancing around Josh’s queen, not going for the kill.

  Josh glared at him from across the board. “Are you going to insult me by playing like this?”

  “What do you mean?” Patrick felt a painful twinge in his belly that he’d been found out.

  Two moves later he had Josh’s queen. Two moves after that he had his king.

  “You’re a good chess player,” Josh said, getting up from the table, looking broken again. “I’ll give you that.”

  Patrick now recognized it had been a stupid, selfish thing to want to play, but that’s what he was best at. “It’s just a game,” he said, hoping to lighten the gloom.

  Josh scooped up his keys and went to the door. “That’s the difference between us. With you, everything was always a game.” He turned back to Patrick before walking out. “It must feel good to always win.”

  Josh shut the door softly behind him and Patrick was left staring at the black pieces on the board surrounding the one white king.

  His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket and he almost didn’t notice it as he gazed at the game board.

  He checked the text several minutes later as he went to his room.

  Mallory had sent him her address. Along with two short sentences. One saying she was sorry. And the next suggesting that if he really wanted to see what could happen between them, that he should come spend the day with her tomorrow.

  Josh

  AT SIMONE AND TIFFANY’S APARTMENT complex there wasn’t a scene as Josh expected. No police cars crowded, no red tape, nothing but one lone police car in the parking lot. Josh parked where he always did in a visitor’s spot, a few down from the cop; the cop was writing, filling out reports. One cop sitting in his car scribbling on one of those aluminum portable storage clipboards—was that what we were all destined for, he wondered? Only a day after we die?

  The sun was beating down, and Josh was beginning to sweat all over. He walked by George’s door where there were two bouquets of flowers lying flat on his thin beige doormat. One bouquet was roses and the other was yellow lilies. There were also pictures of George, before he had the purple bruising above his left eye. Josh glanced up at the sky and then back at the flowers and leaned them into the crook of the doorframe, where there were a few inches of shade. There was a thick unlit candle hidden beneath the roses.

  When he moved on to the girls’ apartment, Tiffany answered in a white V-neck t-shirt that hung loose off her frame and pink shorts. She threw her arms around Josh and held onto him, then brought him inside. The sliding glass door at the far end of the living room was blacked out with heavy drapes. Only a sliver of bright white light knifed in from beneath. After a few minutes it began to feel like nighttime inside the darkened apartment, and Josh kept staring at the row of candles lit on the coffee table.

  “I’m glad you came,” Tiffany said, nudging up beside him on the couch with a cup between her hands.

  “Of course,” he said, noticing red wine brimming in it.

  She slid her hand across the small of his back, pulling herself tight beside him. He got the hint and lifted his arm around her and opened his chest so she could slide into a place that probably made her feel, he didn’t really know, safer maybe? His right hand settled on her side and rubbed. Her ribs protruded like the black half-step keys on a piano.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked, looking into her weary blue eyes.

  “Yeah, earlier.”

  It was a lie. But it didn’t really matter. He hadn’t come over here to force food on her. He was only here because it seemed like the right thing to do. He’d seen Simone’s car parked outside and assumed she was home. He wondered if she was hiding from him and the discomfort of facing him, just like he had done with Patrick.

  “Simone’s napping,” Tiffany said, noticing his eyes wandering. “She’ll be down later when we light the candle.”

  “The three of us?” Josh asked.

  Tiffany grabbed a hair tie off the table and stretched it around her blonde hair to put it up. She then wiped under her eyes with her forefingers and nodded. “We were all he really had here.”

  Josh stroked his chin uncomfortably. “I can’t say I knew him that well.”

  She took a drink of wine from her plastic cup. “He respected how you handled everything after the fight.” She offered him some of her wine and he took a drink, and then went to the kitchen to get him his own glass.

  He shifted around on their couch until he got comfortable, took off his shoes. It was going to be a few hours before they lit the candle and did whatever else transpired at a vigil. Tiffany brought the wine over and observed how he was getting comfortable.

  “I figured we had a little time,” he explained.

  “It’s okay. We do.” She went and picked out a movie and put it in without much thought. When she came back around the coffee table she looked at him that same way again. “Can I lay on you?”

  “If you want.”

  “I just need someone to hold me.”

  “Sure, sure. I understand.”

  The previews came on while Josh stretched out completely flat on the couch with only his head propped up on a pillow. Tiffany lifted her cup of wine to her lips and drank, throat clicking in small gulps until it was all gone. Her t-shirt came away from her body as she bent down to slither into a comfortable position, and he saw her breasts, which were bare beneath the cotton shirt.

  It seemed inappropriate, and Josh tensed up as she crawled onto him. Her legs interloped with his, her breasts pressed into his stomach in a way he could feel them plainly, and then she set her head down in the middle of his chest. It was the way a couple would lay. He was certain she could hear his heart. Her body was warm, but it felt small, brittle, almost shriveled up.

  He glanced down at the top of her head. Her blonde hair looked so soft and golden in the candlelight. Josh lifted a hand, placed it on the back of her head and ran it down and through the hair in a long caress. She sighed. He was careful in lightly massaging his fingers down her back until his hand came to rest on the middle of it and died there purposefully, hoping no more petting would happen.

  She’d put in Toy Story. An odd choice.

  Josh didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until soft snores rumbled out from her lips. He watched the movie with her fast asleep, every so often running his hand across her back, knowing that she needed a friend right now, or maybe just someone who hadn’t hurt her.

  ***

  Josh’s eyes fluttered open at some sounds in the room. He’d fallen asleep. His chest a
nd shoulders tingled with numbness from Tiffany’s weight on him. A strong ache pulsed up his neck as he lifted his head toward the kitchen. Simone was making something to eat, pulling things out of the fridge.

  Josh was able to wake Tiffany up and slide her off him. She groaned with stiffness that matched his. She rubbed her head. The disc menu of Toy Story was repeating itself over and over again, as the movie had long since ended. Tiffany stood up from the couch just as Simone joined them in the living room carrying a plate of vegetables and ranch.

  “Oh,” Simone recoiled for a moment. “I didn’t know he was here.” Her eyes surveyed the two of them, trying to figure out what exactly she’d stumbled upon. Tiffany rubbed her eyes with balled fists, arched her back, and yawned as if nothing had happened, and of course nothing had.

  Josh got a strong inkling that her lying on him for Simone to stumble upon wasn’t accidental. He stood up to go to the bathroom and passed by Simone without making eye contact. He splashed water on his face at the sink, and then leaned on the porcelain while the water wicked away from his chin. Simone. Seeing her again, hearing her voice—an unexpected anger was coming on.

  He came back to Simone and Tiffany together on the couch, scarfing the vegetable plate. He sat down on the floor next to the coffee table even though there was an open spot on the couch. Tiffany told him to eat, and he helped himself to some broccoli florets. They were all hungry and devoured the plate.

  Tiffany went to the kitchen for more wine. Whenever Josh worked up the nerve to look directly at Simone, she demurely pulled her gaze away from his. Eventually, the silence became too much for her to bear and she took the empty plate back to the kitchen. Josh breathed heavy and leaned over the edge of the coffee table, considering whether to leave.

  “It’s almost dark,” Simone said, and Josh twisted toward both of them in the kitchen. “We could start.”

  Josh gave a resigned nod. Tiffany agreed, with wine in hand.

  They went outside, the girls barefoot and still in their sleepy attire. The fading dusk was warm and pleasant. They came to George’s door. Josh was glad to see the flowers had survived. He stood on one side of Tiffany while Simone stood on the other. Josh looked only at the door, only at the display near his feet. Simone leaned down with a red pump lighter and clicked it twice as its nose brushed the wick of the fat candle. The flame came to life and the wick absorbed its light.

  Almost immediately the strong fragrance of cinnamon hit their nostrils.

  Simone scowled. “A scented candle? Really, Tiff?”

  Tiffany’s cheeks flushed. “It’s all I had.”

  Josh didn’t say anything, just watched the two of them.

  “He was my boyfriend,” Tiffany said, moved to tears. “I loved him.”

  Simone bowed her head in frustration. Josh looked over at her, and for a second her eyes flicked to him.

  “And he had the perfect penis,” Tiffany continued.

  “Tiffany!” Simone snatched the wine out of her friend’s hand. “This isn’t a joke.”

  “We should be honest,” Tiffany said, directing her words at Simone as a way to cut her down.

  “We should be respectful,” Simone corrected her.

  Tiffany ripped her eyes away, tears still flooding them. “This is your fucking fault.”

  Simone took over, and for the first time Josh could see the clear rift that had come between them.

  “George was our friend, our very best friend,” Simone said. “He never hurt anyone, was always kind, and always had a good heart. He loved us both, and we loved him.” She herself was holding back tears.

  Tiffany suddenly burst out, “He was selfish to do this! Selfish!”

  Simone grabbed Tiffany’s arm. “Shut up!”

  “He was! And so are you!”

  Simone yanked down hard on Tiffany’s arm. Tiffany shoved her away and stormed back to the apartment.

  “What the fuck is wrong with her?” Simone said and tossed the cup full of wine onto the sidewalk.

  He shook his head.

  “I know she hates me now, but to disrespect him like that?”

  Josh didn’t have words for her, and didn’t want to take sides when there were no right answers. His insides were roiling with tension. A moment later, Simone turned and started off back to the apartment. Josh stayed at George’s door for a little while longer, feeling embarrassed at how George’s only two friends —in the world for all he knew—were falling apart and couldn’t even pay respects to him properly.

  When he returned to the apartment, Tiffany was already upstairs and Simone was pouring wine. Josh came up beside her at the countertop and saw there was a pair of glasses.

  “No,” he said, waving a hand. “I’d better not. I should probably get going, actually.”

  “I need to talk with you,” she replied, “and it can’t wait any longer.”

  “Talking isn’t going to fix this.”

  “Fix what?” she asked, handing him the glass as if she would let it fall if he didn’t take it.

  He growled. “Here, I don’t want this.” He tried to hand it back but she turned away.

  “C’mon.” She reached out with her slender arm and took his hand, leading him to the couch again. “Sit.”

  Josh closed his eyes. Something restoring was released inside him when she touched him. It was a dirty power she had over him. She eased down next to him on the cushion with her poise and elegance that made him sick because he felt himself not able to resist.

  “Please, have some,” she said, gesturing at his wine glass. “It’ll be better if you have some.”

  So Josh tipped the glass against his lips and the warm red wine poured in. It was bitter, tasting like it had been open to the air for too long. Simone lowered her face and let the glass sit between her interlocked hands. Josh waited for her to speak.

  She tapped the glass. “Tiffany found him. She told me they had spent some of the morning together, and that she had to meet Patrick up on campus for a little bit.”

  That struck him as odd. “Why?”

  “She’s moving away. She hasn’t told anyone but Patrick and me. George didn’t even know. You know, he’d just moved here. She knew he’d be crushed.”

  Josh didn’t know what to say.

  “She wanted to say goodbye to him. Patrick. But she didn’t want George to know she was going to see him, so she made up some excuse and left. When she came back, George was gone. She tried to get into his apartment, but it was locked. We have a spare key though, and after a few hours she went in. He was hanging off the bike rack in his room.”

  “I don’t need to know this.”

  “Sorry.” She tapped her glass. “I just don’t know how this all happened so fast. I feel like everything is out of control, and it just keeps getting worse.”

  He agreed with that. “So she’s moving back for good?”

  Simone nodded, looking markedly sadder. “Because of me.”

  “Pretty much.” The words cut and he wanted them to.

  She sat there and didn’t say anything.

  “But we all make mistakes,” he added, hedging on how bad he wanted to make her feel. Even now he didn’t want to hurt her too much.

  “I was a good friend before I met Patrick,” she said. “And then it all… I just lost track of what was important, I guess.”

  He looked into her eyes. “Why did you do it, Simone? Why? You couldn’t resist or something?”

  She took a hefty drink and then wheezed. “I don’t know,” she let out in a whisper. “I wish I knew.”

  That answer wasn’t good enough for him. He drank. “Now you and Patrick can be together, because I’m moving out too.”

  “To where?”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be out of the way of you two.”

  “I never wanted that, Josh.”

  “But that’s what happened, isn’t it?”

  “It doesn’t have to.”

  “Yeah it does,” he said har
shly.

  She was staring at him, totally lost.

  “It’s over between us.” He said the words with a tremble in his voice and threw back the wine. The bitterness stung in every corner of his mouth. “And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “It can never work with me and Patrick,” she said. “Never. I see that clear as day.”

  He set down the glass hard. “And so what, I should play boyfriend until you get a wild hair one day and decide to go spend the afternoon in his bed?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “Won’t it? Let me ask you this, what do you even see in me? I’m just the guy living in a house with him. Just a guy. That’s it.”

  “You’re an amazing guy. I was the idiot.”

  “I’m going. This was a stupid mistake to think I should waste my time back here.”

  “Wait, Josh!” she pulled him down and her mouth came across the space between them and over his, wet and hot and engulfing. There was strength in her grasp that shocked him for how little she was. She pressed down on his shoulders as they kissed and he couldn’t squirm out of it.

  It brought wetness into his eyes, the kind that just lay thick and heavy over the bend. How many different ways he had been pulled by this girl?

  When their lips came apart for a beat, she urged him up off the couch. “Come with me.” She had a hold of both his hands. “I’m exhausted, we both are. Come lie down with me upstairs. No tricks. Just lie there with me. Don’t leave me alone right now. Please.”

  He had the mind to leave, to storm out of the apartment, to drive off alone into whatever this small town had to offer him for the rest of the summer and his final year of college. But his power dissolved when she touched him, when she was sweet to him.

  They marched up the stairs and into the bedroom. Josh kicked off his shoes and fell onto the bedspread while she fetched him a large glass of water from the bathroom. She came back and he was lying on his side, turned away from her, facing the wall and not saying anything.

  He sighed as Simone turned out the lights and slid up behind him, slipping one arm around his waist and up under his arm. Her fingers pressed into his chest, and his heart beat a little faster.