"But he was right; it was rotten and smelled bad" …

(this story began here)

I stared at her as she talked. I couldn’t think of any logical explanation for her words. If she was trying to drive me away this made no sense. If she was trying to scare me about her own state of mind she was doing a good job. 

“E, you’ve had a dream. We were together last night, don’t you remember?” It was then I thought about the light in her apartment. I looked up. It was turned off again, the flicker of the TV set the only sign of life up there. E was following my stare.

“You see?” she said.

“But he wasn’t right about last night, you were with me.” I was beginning to feel on edge, frantic. I didn’t need this to be happening right now. I was in control of myself these days, staying straight, but I still needed more time.

“But you and I didn’t do anything last night, J. Yet I was quite sore down there this morning,” she said. She looked down to her lap. Her hands were twisting together on the table top.

“E, I’m …” I began, but I didn’t know what I had planned to say. I was utterly lost. I could feel tears in my eyes, and could see that there were none in hers. This was all wrong. I felt sick. I felt unable to speak, so scared was I of saying the wrong words, pushing her the wrong way.

She saved me the trouble of deciding. “I won’t be going outdoors anymore,” she announced as she pushed her chair back and stood up. She turned and walked quickly towards the door, stopped, put her hand in her bag and pulled her purse out, dropped a ten onto the nearest table. I watched her do all this, but I didn’t react. I couldn’t move. I could feel a few eyes on me by this time; we were causing a minor scene. I felt frozen as she left, and it wasn’t until I watched her through the glass, cross the road and enter the main door of her stair that I could shake myself from this state. I looked up at her window, stared, unblinking, until the light came back on.

*