Like Real People Do

1. Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene

Lurched like a stray to the arms that were open, no shortage of sordid no protest from me. -Hozier

Sunday, April 11th

It was a Sunday morning, first light, and Shane Callaghan had yet again found himself in a stranger's bed. Since coming to this town, he'd made a habit of finding comfort in passers-by. They didn't show up often, but when they did, it was easy to identify them in a crowd. With a population barely that of his old high school, unfamiliar faces stood out against the sea of locals in his usual bar. There was something reassuring about the anonymity of two ships passing in the night. They were like ghosts, transient, all ties cut by the time he was able to slip away.

The thing about ghosts, however, is that they usually didn't have homes of their own to return to.

Drunken one-night stands at the local inn had once been his only solace, but now he'd somehow managed to fuck that up too with this fateful mistake. He considered leaving, but there was almost no point now. Not only had he stayed the night, but he'd also committed the mortal sin of sleeping with someone he was doomed to see again. Even if he did sneak out as he had so many times before, he was sure to run into her somewhere in this backwater town. The veil of mystery between them would soon be lifted, and he cursed himself for letting it happen, dumb drunk asshole that he was. Up until now, the only permanent new face in town had been his own. Pelican Town seldom saw changes in its residents, but it seemed as though today he'd been particularly unlucky in his choice of women.

Truthfully, he had no idea why he'd done it, or what the appeal in following this girl back to her house had been. She'd given him plenty of outs, and he had ignored every single one. Why didn't he turn back the second her path had gone in any direction besides the inn? Why did he push forward even when it ended at the old farmhouse directly next to his own? Perhaps luck had nothing to do with it. Perhaps this was just a well-deserved punishment served for a poor decision made. He knew better, yet still ended up tracing the cracks in a stranger's ceiling, clad only in boxer shorts while she slept beside him.

In a rare moment of impulse and desperation, Shane gingerly peeled the covers back to make his escape. While an eventual confrontation was unavoidable, he decided it would be best left for later. After all, she seemed nice enough. Sparing her the sight of him first thing in the morning was the least he could do. He maneuvered out of the bed, careful to not disturb her. The early morning light had been just enough to wake him without providing a clear enough view of the bedroom to grab his shit and leave. He felt around in the dark until he touched something warm, furry, and notably neither his pants nor shirt. Before he even had time to consider it, a loud and raspy meow rattled from the cat he'd just startled out of a deep sleep. Shane could do nothing but stare in abject horror as the woman stirred beside him.

"Henry, please give me five more minutes," she groaned without turning over. "The sun isn't even up yet. Please do not start with this shit right now." The cat sounded off again, this time even louder and more sustained. "Fine, fine. I heard you, I'm getting up." She sat up turned around, expecting to see a cat, but instead met with a fully grown man, eyes wide with fear. "Oh. Uh, good morning." Shane had lived enough lifetimes and ended up in enough stranger's beds to know what was going to happen next. The look of regret and disgust, the obligatory and sickeningly polite small talk. It was not a song and dance he was interested in performing again.

"I-I'm sorry." It was the only thing he could force out. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he leapt up from and searched for his belongings strewn about the floor. The room itself was somehow both bare and cluttered at the same time, with yet-to-be unpacked moving boxes littering every empty space.

"It's fine." She wrapped herself in a bathrobe beside the bed and casually strode over to the light switch to flip in on for him. "I just didn't expect you to stay overnight is all. If anything, I should probably be the one apologizing to you, I was a hot mess last night."

"I didn't mean to overstay. I was just leaving. I'm sorry." He tripped over his words while yanking his old t-shirt over his head. It reeked of sweat and beer, but it would have to do for now.

"I just said it's fine, you don't have to apologize. Can I get you a coffee or something?" With the light on, he paused for a fraction of a second to take her in. He barely remembered what she looked like before, but now he was starting to realize why he flouted every opportunity to run. Between the smattering of freckles across her cheeks, wild auburn curls, and soft brown doe eyes that studied him closely, there was something familiar about her. Threateningly familiar. He breathed in sharply and continued to get dressed with even more urgency than before.

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Suit yourself," she said with a shrug. "I'm making some for myself anyway, though, so if you change your mind, it's really no trouble at all." The cat, which he could now identify as a small orange tabby, trailed close behind her. "Also, I see you've met Henry." She scooped him up with a tired smile. "Sorry about all the noise, he's deaf I think, so he screams like that a lot. I mean, that's my theory anyway. I found him at a gas station a few miles down the road, so I'm really not sure." With that, she disappeared into the kitchen and Shane was left alone, half-dressed and fully humiliated. Her reaction to him had been entirely different than what he was expecting, and he wasn't sure if that was better or worse. Of all the times he'd ever found himself face to face with the consequences of the night before, they had never once offered him coffee.

When he finally crept out of her bedroom, the woman was seated at her small kitchen table with a mug in one hand and Henry in the other. "You sure I can't get you anything?" She called out after him as he made a beeline for the front door. "Like breakfast or a ride home?"

"Yeah, I'm sure." The last thing Shane wanted was to be alone in a car with her for any amount of time. All he was interested in right now was getting the fuck out of this house and away from this person.

"Alright. As long as you are." Shane had since turned his attention entirely to the deadbolt on her door, the last thing between him and freedom from this nightmare. He fumbled with it, hands shaky, but was met with one last gut punch before he could get away. "By the way, it was Shane, right? I'm sorry, I should really remember that, but I just wanted to be sure." There it was: the illusion shattered. The barriers broken. He couldn't recall whether or not he'd given any of the others his name because it never mattered. They'd all soon be scattered to the winds anyway, what difference did it make if they brought his name with them?

The winds, however, would not be taking this one anywhere any time soon. He clenched the doorknob tight in his hand, frozen, before yanking it open and hustling through without looking back.