I look up at the ceiling, feeling as hopeless as I did the day before. I feel like I was buried under a tonne of bricks then someone dropped a building on top of the carnage. My phone vibrates from under my body, and I lift myself up and reach for it with my hand. Someone is calling me.
"Steven" the screen reads. I press ignore, hoping he'll get the hint already. It's not my first time doing this today. It's been a long day and I don't want to add to the stress by talking to my ex.
I grab my still almost full bottle of expensive booze and pour into my cup, every movement feels painful.
I find myself looking down from the balcony again. I wish I could go down there and enjoy my life like everyone else. I allow myself to daydream about how good it would feel to be happy, mindlessly skipping down the streets with my friends. But every friendship doesn't feel genuine right now, most of the "friends" who care now haven't cared about me for a while, and I'm in no mood to be pitied. I'm jolted out of my thoughts.
"Hey," a voice shouts to me. It's Tyler, standing at the balcony of his room. I don't know who feels worse between us, but I hope he didn't get more bad news like I did.
I lift my cup to him and wave it a little, faking a smile. He smiles back and waves back and our interaction ends there. I let my mind drift off, to the events of last night. It was a better night than I expected, I met a few people and had mind-blowing sex with a hot dude. It felt good allowing myself to forget like that. Suddenly I feel the urge to go back to the roof.
"Hey," I call out to Tyler, he looks at me. He doesn't look very emotive now, it's like he's gone back to the very first version of himself that I met.
"Let's go up to the roof," I say. He makes a confused face. Like he didn't hear me. I point my finger up.
"The roof," I repeat. He looks like he doesn't want to go, making a dismissive face.
"I'm coming over there," I say, disappearing from his view before he gets a chance to reply. I strip off my tee and get some boxer briefs on before covering myself up with a robe. I leave and make my way to his door then knock and wait. This will never not be weird.
He shows up a whole two minutes later, dressed in a robe with his chest showing. I laugh at this, is he copying me on purpose. He ignores me and passes by me on his way to the elevator. I follow, and we end up waiting for the elevator to come up again, this time from the ground floor. It's not any less awkward.
"Went to the police station today," I say, breaking the ice as we wait. He looks at me with casual interest, "apparently the fire was an arson after all."
He raises his brows in surprise but doesn't say anything. What does one say after hearing that?
"You should've taken me with you," he finally says.
What?
"Didn't think you wanted to see me getting passive aggressively accused of setting my own house on fire," I say trying to dismiss his interest. He scoffs.
"Maybe then I wouldn't have found out my ex wife is five months pregnant," he says as we enter the now open elevator doors. How did he not know that she was pregnant if he had just left before he came here.
"You didn't know?"
He sighs, "no, I guess I didn't pay enough attention to the situation."
"You got any kids with her?"
He sighs again, "no, at some point I just ended up thinking she couldn't conceive. Then she gets pregnant as soon as she meets someone else?"
His breath is fast now and he's already getting worked up. I don't know what to think. Why hasn't he considered that it could be his body that was the problem?
I ask him, "it wasn't you then?"
He turns and looks at me, and his face drops.
His voice lowers, "she had a miscarriage a couple of years back."
Now nothing adds up. I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze briefly as the doors open for us.
The ride to the roof is silent. I start to realize that maybe there's a few people up on the roof because they don't know what's up there. Sure "rooftops are fun" but I'm sure nobody goes to the "roof floor" expecting a pool and a jacuzzi and a whole bar. Then again why wouldn't anyone know there's a fucking pool in their hotel. Maybe if they rename it to "pool floor". "Pool floor", "entertainment floor", maybe, just not "roof floor". But that's my opinion.
The doors open and I step out and head towards the jacuzzi as he follows closely behind. The usual two guests are inside and their faces light up as we get closer. We reach the jacuzzi, greet them and take off our robes. This time we're exactly matching, just blue boxer briefs underneath the robes. I shake my head as what happened last night is being played on repeat, Hanna looks at Mark and enthusiastically slaps his shoulder. We get into the water and Mark calls us a cute couple again. I'm not enjoying the deja vu so I tell them they look like a cute couple too. Mark looks uncomfortable for a second, and I hope he gets the message.
I slowly let myself into the jacuzzi, taking my time getting one foot in, letting myself imagine that the water is boiling and I need to go slowly so I don't burn.
We get into the pool in our spot opposite to them.
I keep my shoulders and arms out of the pool, and tilt my head back to rest it in my hand, choosing to be an observer. But with Hanna present I figure everyone is an observer.
Hanna is talking about some vacation to South America she went on with her dead husband and everyone is just letting her talk, to fill the silence. She is almost under Mark's arm, sliding slowly into it. He doesn't try to stop her. Until I learn otherwise I'll always believe that Mark's dilemma is all his own doing.
My eyes connect with Mark's, he's staring at me, a devilish look just under the surface of his eyes. I look at him too, taking in as much of him as my eyes can. He has average length hair and is clean shaven. His brown eyes are telling me a story, a sexy story, so I don't pay attention. His chest is buff and his arms have a bit of muscle of them, giving the idea of someone who used to be really dedicated to his workout at some point. Before I realize I'm staring, there's rapid finger snapping in front of my face. I snap out of it and Tyler leans in to my ear, "you're staring," he whispers. Whatever.
I shrug the rude interruption off and get back to listening to Hanna's story. Mark chuckles, and for some reason Hanna is oblivious to all of this, never once stopping her tale, which is now about some kangaroos she saw in Australia. I take a sip every time she slides closer to Mark, and soon my plastic cup is empty. I throw it over my shoulder and try to pay attention to whatever is going on here.
"You need a refill?" she suddenly asks me. The way her story connects to the question almost makes me think she isn't talking to me, until I see her looking at me with waiting eyes.
I'm starting to feel like the drinks are more for her own entertainment than mine. I just shrug and she doesn't give me a chance to open my mouth, standing up and skipping over to the bar.
Not this situation again. Today I'm in no mood to talk, so I wait for someone else to open their mouth. Tyler goes first.
"Mark," he calls out. Mark turns his attention from me to Tyler and raises his brows.
"Why doesn't your girlfriend know that you're not into her like that?" he asks, almost demanding. Normally I wouldn't enjoy such a confrontation, but today I'd love to see if other people's drama can drown out my own. Mark doesn't know what to say, so we let him think until words have formed.
"Well I tried to tell her," he says almost whining. We both give him that look that says no you didn't.
"She gets a little bit, uh, ahead of herself sometimes and she didn't give me a chance to say yes to this getaway."
"You came though," Tyler says before I can. Marks exhales sharply.
"If only you knew."
