The meeting with E couldn't have been more bizarre, even if I had made it all up ...

(this story began here)

“How are you today?” I asked her. 

I don’t know why I began with that question. I should have started the conversation by asking her what was wrong, because something was very clearly not right. We were seated next to the window of the smoke-free café directly across the road from her apartment. Every so often she would look up at her window. Whether she was longing to be back up there, or afraid of returning it was impossible to tell, but there was something stirring her, a negative emotion. Her tiny nose was red from being constantly rubbed with the grey ball of tissue paper she held tightly in her left hand, her nostrils flared as she tried to breathe normally. Her skin was always pale, a healthy pale, but today it appeared dull, pulled tightly across her protruding cheekbones, losing the elegance she naturally carried.

She sighed. She hadn’t looked at me since she sat down. I had a feeling that everything which had remained unspoken between us was about to come to a head, although I knew that not much did in fact need to be said for that to happen.

“I’ve never been in here before,” she said finally, looking around, appearing to have not heard me speak. The waiter walked over and she ordered a hot chocolate. I shook my head. I was, in those days, avoiding caffeine, chocolate, anything addictive. She didn’t talk again until her drink arrived. I asked her another two or three times how she was, but received no response of any sort. 

“Hutch phoned,” I said, for some reason. “Rachel has a new theory on why none of us will leave the city.” I went on to tell her that Stepek had called just after Hutch, and that I hadn’t answered. “He just wants to tell me that he has got together with Julie,” I said. “He doesn’t know that I don’t care … I’ll let him sweat it out a little longer.” I thought she may approve. She didn’t flinch. We carried on in silence.

A while later, just as I was just opening my mouth to ask another question, “Why are we in here?” she interrupted me to say, “J, I’m sorry, but you can’t come up tonight.”

I blinked. I hadn’t planned on going up that night. We hadn’t planned on seeing each other that night. It was E who had called me. The statement made no real sense. 

“And before you ask,” she continued, “you can’t come up tomorrow night either. You can’t come up any night. Not any more. There’s…” She looked up at her window again. I hadn’t noticed but there was a light on in her apartment. I wiped some of the condensation from my view with the side of my fist. The glass squeaked as my skin wiped across it. It was much later when I realised that it hadn’t been on when we first sat down. 

“Someone else comes around now,” she said.

 continues ...