the things we do in the dark (+18)

10

Iverem's mother calls her around four in the morning. Jonah is still sleeping at this hour, restless and constantly turning in bed, but still sleeping nonetheless, so Iverem locks herself in the bathroom and turns on the showerhead before answering the call.

"Iverem?" she says.

"It is my number," Iverem says. "Who else would it be?"

Her mother kisses her teeth, her Bajan accent seeping into her voice as she says: "don't get smart. I will reach through this phone and smack you upside the head."

Fair enough.

Feeling all sticky and icky from her late-night rendezvous with August, she takes off her clothes in preparation for a shower. "Why are you calling me so early?" she says.

"Why are you still up?"

There was no point trying to get a coherent answer from her mother about the things she did and why she did them, under any casual conversation or in the heat of an argument. Iverem also didn't care enough to get into a fight over it. Attempting to be the bigger person, though deep down she knew she was just as fucked up as her mother, she continued the conversation. "I couldn't sleep."

Iverem gathers her hair into a bun and throws off her wool sweater. "Cause you don't eat meat," her mother says.

"That has nothing to do with me being unable to sleep at night," she says, her voice rising with each word. Iverem bites her lip to keep herself from saying anything more.

Her mother huffs over the phone but doesn't comment on the tone of her voice. "I need a place to stay by February."

How bad are things right now? Iverem thinks. Her thoughts are momentarily disrupted when she discovers a hickey on her neck. She nearly drops her phone at the sight of it. The hickey is small and at the base of her neck, a rouge colour that fades into a blushing pink before subsequently becoming a light umber like the rest of her complexion, like a sign of her burgeoning desire for August. This hickey isn't something Iverem can wash off. This hickey will be a constant reminder of how she failed Jonah, herself.

I won't survive this trip.

"It's fine; you can stay with me," Iverem says. She hopes this response gets her out of this conversation quicker.

"You gonna pay for my ticket?"

Flight prices from New York to Texas aren't crazy expensive. Iverem's willing to suffer the monetary loss. "Sure, whatever."

"What's going on?" her mother's impatience rings through the phone. This woman had the nerve to be bothered by her.

"I'm just on my period," Iverem lies.

"Well, get some sleep," she says. "You sound like you need it."

In the shower, August's smile flickers through her mind's eye. His smile crinkles the corner of his eyes and illuminates the golden undertones of his skin. His smile reminds Iverem of how her father used to smile at her before his cancer diagnosis. Apart from the obvious, she's unsure what else he could ever want from her, what she could give him besides her body. Her body... yeah, that sounds about right.

Her body: collateral, scarred, used up, not really hers, it belonged to god or a man or her mother but never really her.

The memory of Michael's wicked glare the last night she saw him seizes her. Having had enough of this shower, she returns to the bedroom to find Jonah on his phone.

"You were in there a long time," he says.

"I needed to think." She quickly changes into some clothes. Sitting on her side of the bed, facing away from him, she says: "I need to talk to you."

"What's up?"

She studies him from over her shoulder. His gaze is warm, eyes a calming evergreen. Iverem has always felt content around Jonah. He's good for Iverem, but she can tell she's no good for him.

"I think we need some time apart."

Quickly, he sits up. "Why?"

She removes the engagement ring and places it on her side table. She goes out of her way to make this action a spectacle. "I've been cheating on you," she heaves out the words.

He's rounding the bed now, kneeling in front of her, hands on her knees, trying to look her in the eye. "What are you talking about?"

She holds her breath, anticipating. Iverem is at the precipice of no return. The varnishing of her mahogany side table is suddenly captivating.

"Iverem," Jonah says, trying to keep her attention.

"I've been cheating on you, and I'm sorry. I don't think you deserve to be with someone like me."

"Are you leaving me for him?"

Iverem is taken aback by Jonah's question. "No, of course not."

The tenseness in Jonah's shoulders eased a bit. "Ok. Do I know them?"

He's handling this surprisingly well, Iverem thinks. "Yes."

"Then I don't want to know who it is." He then gets up and walks into the bathroom.

Iverem sits there, stupidly waiting for him to reappear. When she becomes exasperated, she knocks on the bathroom door. "Jonah, I'm heading back to Dallas for Christmas."

He doesn't say anything.

"I'm always here for you if you want to talk," she says.

Again, nothing.

She packs her shit up as quickly as possible and leaves the room. In the lobby, "Jingle Bells" plays on the speakers. No matter how hard Iverem wipes her face, the wetness dampening her cheeks always returns.