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RealizingI can’t walk the streets forever, I text Alice and arrange to meet at her apartment.
Her roommate’s there when I arrive and I feel like I’m intruding. I’m going to have to find somewhere to live, but I just can’t face it right now.
Alice knows as soon as she sees me that something’s wrong. She pulls me into her bedroom and puts her hands on my face, demanding to know what happened.
I can feel the tears welling before I even open my mouth. Alice waits, her eyes widening as her patience wears thin.
“Dorian cheated on me.” Once it’s out, I let myself be bundled up in a hug and cry it out.
“That fucking dick,” she says.
I let her call him a dick. This time, I agree.
We’ve been practicinga piece by Brahms for weeks to perform in the city, and the closer we get to the performance date, the more real it’s starting to feel. We have a couple of practice performances before then at the library, but that doesn’t really make me feel any better.
While I’m putting my violin back in its case, Alice sidles up next to me and squeezes my elbow.
“How you holding up?”
“I’m fine.”
If I think about it again, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to do that in front of all these people. It’s only been a couple of days since I moved out of the apartment, most of my stuff is still there because I can’t face Dorian and blocking his number is enough right now to avoid speaking to him.
I keep expecting him to turn up at Alice’s place, drunk and crying, and every day that doesn’t happen makes me a little sadder.
“Hey, I was thinking, why don’t we go to the movies tonight?”
“I’m not really in the mood, can we just stay home?”
Alice bites her lip.
“Your roommate wants us out of the house doesn’t she?”
“Um… kinda.”
“I’m so sorry, I promise I’m looking for a place, it’s just the roommate situation is-”
Before Alice can jump in and stop me tail spinning, Madison, second clarinet, interrupts.
“Did you say you were looking for a roommate?”
“Yeah, why?”
“My brother’s on the hockey team and he said the captain’s looking for a roommate.”
“A hockey player?” Alice screws her nose up. “He doesn’t want to live with some sweaty jock.”
Sweaty jock? Has she seen how sweaty I get after a performance?
“Hey, the hockey team aren’t bad guys.” Madison says.
Alice treats her to that judgmental eyebrow she usually saves for me.
“Seriously, they’re choir boys, it’s all kale smoothies and volunteer work with them.”
Alice puts her hands on her hips, looking all stroppy like she’s about to spit some facts. “You forget I play in the marching band. Play enough jock rock hits at enough hockey games andyou’ll see they’re all just walking balls of testosterone who go around smashing each other into things and shouting ‘protein!’”
As much as Alice is probably exaggerating, she is right about me not wanting to live with a jock.