ONE TO WATCH

DELYAN

Delyan opened the fridge door and took out a bottle of pulp free orange juice. He poured a glass over the sink, took a sip and returned the bottle to the fridge. The countertop was strewn with foodstuff: eggs, bacon, butter, milk, and a buttery croissant on a side plate.

"Kak ste?" Bibiana said. "You're up early."

"I am." Delyan replied, ignoring her attempt to speak Bulgarian. He pulled a chair from beneath the kitchen table and seated himself to face her.

"Want some?" Bibiana drew a moka pot from the stove.

"Thanks." The earthy aroma of the coffee softened his dark mood.

"Charlene will be here soon. She texted last night to say she'd be early."

Bibiana handed him a glass mug across the table. "Dobre."

She returned to the stove, hovering one hand above a frying pan of oil testing its heat level. "What's going on?"

Delan cradled the warm mug in his hands.

"Sit down B, we need to talk."

Bibiana flinched but didn't concede to him. Rather, she busied herself laying strips of bacon into the pan, cracking an egg and then another. The hot fat sizzled. "I'm listening," she said.

Delyan shook on a sugar sachet and ripped it open. He inspected her from behind; she was nothing but skin and bones. He cursed himself for not making more of the fake blue contact lenses she'd worn when they met and the uneasy way that she hugged her clothes about her body.

"It's not something I advertise but I'm in NA," he said. "Have been for a year."

"I ...didn't know that."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, I am." He sipped his coffee. The warm liquid was bitter and strong.

"I wouldn't have guessed."

Delyan ignored the note of sarcasm in her voice.

"It's not a secret. I thought you should know. Like...we all have challenges. It's just important that we address them."

"Is there something I can do for you, Delyan?" Bibiana removed the pan from the flames and turned to him. She kept her tone breezy. "I don't mean to be rude, but I usually eat alone."

Pausing a moment before responding, Delyan said: "I won't be a minute." He flipped his vape against the table, tapping and turning it between his fingers.

"In NA...they say you're only as sick as your secrets."

"Sorry?" Bibiana said staring at him.

He held her gaze refusing to rise to her challenge, and she turned from him and began to load her plate. An uncomfortable silence ensued.

When he eventually speaks, Delyan's voice is careful and toneless.

"Who's the shady bloke that visits in the afternoon?"

"I'm...not sure what you mean," Bibiana says, her hesitation a giveaway.

"There's a man...comes by round four o'clock. Leaves something under the mat. Who is he?"

"Are you spying on us?" Bibiana's voice rises.

Delyan raises his eyebrows and nods.

"If by "spying" you mean, keeping an eye on the apartment, then yes. I am."

"I don't know who you're taking about," Bibiana responds. There's an audible quiver to her voice.

"Uh huh?" Delyan's eyes sought hers.