Stray Fears - Gregory Ashe Page 0,1

way. I don’t know. Maybe it was me. Maybe I didn’t, but I don’t think I took a shower that morning. I heard the water. Just that, you know, drip. But it’s kind of like plonk, the sound, because there’s a little bit of water around the drain.” I shrugged again and smiled. “I, uh, didn’t, you know, punish myself, so that’s a big deal, right?”

“Way to go, man,” Kenny said. “Fucking way to go.”

“I did, however, spend a couple of hours screaming in the closet. So, yeah, not a total win.”

Dave burst out laughing. Shrill, escalating laughter. It ended as abruptly as it had started, with Dave staring at the ground, flexing his gloved hands, his lips twitching as though he might start laughing again. The rest of us traded the same looks we always did.

“Oh, Elien,” Stephanie said, wiping tears from her dark eyes. “I feel like this is my fault. I can’t believe I asked you last week about her birthday. If I’d just kept my mouth shut, you probably would have been fine.”

“Bitch,” Tamika said, “who the fuck do you think you are? God? One question isn’t going to do anything.”

“All right, Tamika,” Zahra said.

“I didn’t mean—” Stephanie’s face was crumbling. “Oh, I know you’re right.”

“Don’t you dare fucking cry,” Tamika said. “You can’t go one day without crying?”

“Tamika,” Zahra said.

“You know,” I said, “I’m really glad you asked me, Stephanie. Last week, I mean. Nobody knows what to say. Nobody knows what to ask. I’d rather have somebody ask me about it than tiptoe around and pretend nothing’s happening.”

Stephanie sniffed a few times, wiped her eyes, and tried to smile.

For a moment, Zahra worried at a bandage on her hand, and she looked like she might press the issue with Tamika. But all Zahra said was, “Kenny, what about you?” And we moved on.

I’d finished my obligatory performance; it was very important, in times like these, to keep the cover story straight, to make sure the details were consistent. Lying in group wasn’t encouraged, but if I’d told them the truth, they would have kicked me out. I was running through what I’d said, making sure I hadn’t messed up. I think that’s why it took me a moment to realize Mason was staring at me. Not just staring. Glaring.

Mason was relatively new to the group. A couple of months before, he’d been shot by a kid he was trying to arrest. Mason had almost died. The kid, with the help of mom and dad’s money, had pled down to a lesser charge, and was apparently serving jail time in a cushy juvenile facility. Mason talked about that part a lot; that was his word, cushy. Like they were playing badminton all day. He was a cute guy: wavy blond hair, a great nose—a nose can be a make it or break it feature on a guy—and a little gap between his front teeth. Frankly, that little gap was adorable. He had talked about a girlfriend, Mary Ann, a few times, but that didn’t keep me from looking.

Right then, though, Mason’s very nice nose was wrinkled in a scowl, and he was looking at me like I’d had the bad taste to root for the Falcons during a Saints game. I met his gaze, held it, and turned my hands palm up. Mason didn’t react. He just stared until I finally looked away.

I missed most of the rest of group. I kept glancing over at Mason and finding him still staring at me, and then I’d miss what Ray or Danielle was saying. I’d drag my attention back to the meeting, and thirty seconds later I’d be thinking about Mason, about his very cute nose scrunched up, and what I’d done to piss him off. And then, no matter how hard I tried, I’d look, and he’d be staring right back at me, like he’d been waiting.

When the meeting ended, I put away my chair and moved over to the refreshments, where coffee and iced tea were waiting, along with a selection of store-bought cookies. I skipped the cookies and the iced tea—one glass had about a million calories, the way Danielle always sweetened it—and poured myself a cup of coffee, black. I tasted it, the chicory and the dark roast, and then I found a stirrer and stood there, swishing it through the coffee, glancing up now and then.

Mason was still there, hands in his pockets, standing by the door. Watching me.

“Elien,” Zahra said