Chapter 1
April
The dry red wine lingers on my tongue. The dark sky overhead would be filled with stars if it weren't for the clouds. The street lights below highlight the rails of each balcony across the way. A reminder of the cage we've chosen to live in, crafted roughly from concrete, metal, and glass. I scoff at myself as I take another sip. I'm feeling pretty cynical tonight, I guess.
I lower the glass, my eyes fixed on the drama unfolding through the lighted windows of the apartment across from mine. He moves from room to room, gathering little things into a box he’s carrying while she stands in the bedroom, folding clothes and stuffing them into a suitcase. I feel bad for them. They were living there when I moved in 8 months ago. I’ve seen them through their windows, especially at night, cooking or watching TV. I’ve never seen them fight. Never seen them do much of anything together at all, if I'm honest.
I wonder what happened. Did he cheat? Did she? Or did they just wake up this morning and decide it was over?
The last question causes the glass to pause against my lips before my next sip. The thought hits a little too close to home. Eric’s been acting off lately. Is this where we’re headed? I lower the glass without tasting it, turning my hand slightly to look at the diamond ring on my finger. Maybe, I think bitterly. I lift my phone from the little table next to me and check his last message from earlier this afternoon.
Eric: I’m beat. Heading home. I’ll call you tomorrow, babe. Love you.
Three nights in a row he’s had a reason not to see me. I drop it back onto the glass and return to watching my neighbors as their lives pull apart. It’s so calm. He’s not storming from room to room or red in the face. He hasn’t slammed anything down or broken anything. She’s not crying or screaming. She’s just folding clothes, as if everything is fine. As if this is just any old Sunday.
The glass doors to their balcony slide open. He steps out, a glass-bottled beer in his hand, and leans on the railing. For half a second, his eyes find me, but they drift away as if I were invisible. Maybe to him, I am. Just another face in the sea of the city. He sighs, taking a swig of his drink before his eyes move across me again. They linger a little longer this time. He lifts the end of his bottle, a subtle salute. My heart races before I lift my wine glass, just enough to return his gesture.
My phone chime makes me jump, and the little lift turns into me yelping and one of my nice, violet wine glasses shattering on my balcony floor.
“Fuck,” I bark a little too loudly as I jump out of my chair, rushing back into my bedroom for a towel and a broom. By the time I return, beer-man is gone. I huff, crouching down to clean up the mess I made, wondering just how big of a loser he thinks I am now. Our first interaction, and I go and do this. Who the fuck was calling me anyway? After I place the last of the big shards into the dustpan, I reach for my phone.
1 missed call from Eric. Seriously?! Silence all weekend and he calls NOW?! Before I can call him back, my phone bings with a voicemail notification. Eric has never left me a voicemail before. Not once in the three years we’ve been dating. Not even when his mom was getting rushed into surgery, and he needed me to pack him an overnight bag and bring it to him. He just called over and over until I answered.
Confused and curious, I hit the play button. The sounds of talking, lots of talking, and loud music blares through my phone. He’s definitely out somewhere crowded. My face burns. Too tired to see me tonight, huh? I bet he’s out with Tyler. He could have just told me he wanted a guys’ weekend. He didn’t need to lie. My nose stings with tears waiting for whatever drunken message he called to leave, but he doesn’t say anything.
Great. Not only did he lie to me, but I got to find out about it through a butt dial. Rolling my eyes, I start to hang up when I hear his voice. “You ready to get outta here, baby?”
I put the phone back to my ear. “Eric? Hello?”
“Hell yeah!” Not Eric. Definitely not Eric. A woman’s voice. A voice I know. The fire in my face grows. I hang up and scroll through my contacts. I know he’s in here. I had to hunt down his number last year when he and Eric turned a weekend fishing trip into a week in Vegas, and I had to deal with babysitting Eric’s sister’s kids all by myself for three days.
I hit call on Tyler’s contact card. It rings 8 times before he finally picks up. “What, April? He’s not here.” Tyler’s voice, rasped and stuffy, groans through the line.
“Is Ellie?” I ask, my voice already tight.
“What?” He yawns. “What about Ellie?”
“Is she there?” I ask, my fingers starting to shake.
“No, April. Ellie’s not here. She’s at her parents’ place this weekend. I’d be there too if I weren’t dying of the plague. There. You happy? Can I go back to sleep now?” He grunts.
“Are you sure?” I ask. The fear turning into rage.
“Yes. I’m absolutely positive I wanna go back to sleep. Goodnight, April.” he chuckles, his voice fading at the end as if he’s about to hang up.
“Wait!” I shout, shooting up from my crouched position.
“For what?” He growls.
“Are you sure Ellie’s at her parents’?” My pulse pounds in my ears. “Are you sure?” I toss the wine-soaked rag into my balcony chair and turn into my bedroom. I need shoes and my purse.
He’s quiet for a few seconds, then says, “I thought I was. Did something happen? April, what's going on? Is everything okay?” His voice has changed. Dropped deeper.
“Get dressed,” I reply, trying to pull my shoes on with only one hand while standing.
“Do I have to? I’m sick,” He grumbles, but I can hear him moving around. “Where we goin’ anyway?” He asks, all the air leaving his lungs with the words.
“Meet me at Eric’s.”
