Free Cadillac Couches by Sophie B. Watson

Could use a little time alone. Didn’t tell her that, she’s a great girl. Had a good going away party with a fantastic hut. I don’t know, guess sometimes I worry she just loves me too much. I love her a lot too, I do . . . But it almost feels like she wants my soul, she wants to climb right in. I don’t know. We connect well though . . . Am excited about seeing the old crew from Avola. Tree planting that summer was crazy. Have to admit it’ll be nice to see Alicia again too. I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately, since she sent that letter I guess—
    I paused and reread the name Alicia . My brain felt foggy. I reread the word. It started with an A , but no matter how many times my eyes shuffled the letters they never spelled Annie . I closed the journal.
    My guts ached. I exhaled.
    December 27
    Christmas was fun. Annie called. She’s having a blast in Mexico with Isobel, drinking margaritas, having mariachis play for them.
    Heading over to see Alicia now at her cousin’s place.
    December 30
    Holy Shit!!!
    I gotta write this stuff down. My head hurts. I went over to Alicia’s on Thursday. Her cousin had left for Calgary for a couple of days, so it was just her there with an apartment to herself. It was so easy to be with her. She looked great. She’s got this gorgeous long red hair and sexy, slightly bucked front teeth and those different coloured eyes of hers . . . She made a pot of peach tea. We smoked a little cone. She played me Tom Waits’ new album. We took a shower.
    I stomped on my emotional brakes and stared hard at this line and reread it like it was my biggest enemy and I could outwit it by scrutinizing it to death. Then we took a shower. We took a shower , we, shower, took. We took a shower. We. WE? I wondered if there was any possible way he meant they took one after another. I jumbled the word order in my mind, trying to translate all possible meanings of an obvious phrase. I could feel adrenalin gaining momentum in my veins, bypassing the roadblock of denial I was trying to cauterize myself with.
    It just happened.
    I knew what had happened. I felt a sick thrill. The excitement of something important happening. Like an accident scene. My own personal accident scene. I kept reading, to get the facts, like a vicarious witness; I read on as my heart fell to the floor, leaving me hollow inside.
    We soaped each other and made love in the shower with the steam all around us. Like water animals. I love Alicia. It was seriously hot being with her like that.
    Had to leave her to pick up little Jack at his hockey practice for his mom, but as soon as I dropped him off, I went back to her house. Rolled around all night. I was in a fog. A good fog for three whole days. She’s got this hard to describe angel-like quality. I don’t know what it is. Think I’ll always love her. No matter what.
    Said goodbye this morning. She was headed back to Ontario, back to her boyfriend I guess. And Annie comes back in two days. Don’t know what I’m gonna tell her. Probably nothing. I mean, I can’t explain it, I just, I don’t know. It’s that old thing, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I hope . . . 
    I examined the little doodle sketch he had done of Alicia. She looked like a Venus de fucking Milo with long curly princess hair. I put the journal back in the bag by his desk. Sitting on the desk was a framed picture of me and him in Jasper. Smiling ear to ear, both of us. Blue sky above and noble Mount Edith Cavell shouldering us in the distance.
    I walked to the kitchen on wobbly legs. My eyes blurred and twitched. I remembered to stop holding my breath. I gripped the counter, determined to stay standing. I poured myself two-thirds of a glass of vodka and then topped it up with orange juice. I could almost laugh at the melodrama but not quite. I just knew I somehow had to stop myself from