Free Girl In Pieces by Jordan Bell

living room floor to watch Sherlock on the BBC?
    Two lanes between us and this was the closest we’d been in a month.
    He must have heard the screaming in my head because he looked up as the Chinese guy took off for his car. We stood there for minutes. Hours. I couldn’t see his thoughts, couldn’t analyze his emotions, but he stood there opposite me and didn’t make a move to cross the street. He didn’t make a move to go inside. We just stood, feeling each other panic.
    She’s waiting,   I thought. Food is getting cold.  
    He looked away, ran his hand through his hair, then turned and pushed his way back inside.
    Told you .
    I climbed up to my apartment and answered the first ad I came across for a man seeking a sub to teach. I was lucky there were no misspelled words, but I’m not sure it would have mattered.
     
    *   *   *
     
    Tonight’s the night. Tonight’s the night. Tonightsthenight.
    “Coming!” I shoved one leg into yoga pants, hopped towards the front door while threading the other leg through. “Just a second!”
    The fist hit the door again, three deep thuds that rattled the door on its cheap frame. I knew it wasn’t Sherman about rent since he’d already been by two days earlier to remind me I was two weeks late. Again. I’d managed to scrape up about a third of what I owed him and promised the rest on my first pay check. That had emptied the last of my bank account and he knew it, had watched as I’d tried not to cry when I’d pulled up my bank statement online and wrote the check for the exact amount left in my checking account. Right down to the last penny. He’d watched me embarrass myself begging for more time, promising the same promises I’d made dozens of times. He shook his head and told me we couldn’t keep doing this and I’d said I know I know, I’m sorry , but by that point I couldn’t stop the burn of humiliation in my throat or the tears welling behind my eyes. He’d high-tailed it out of my apartment before the waterworks started.
    Sherman wouldn’t come back until he had to.
    I patted my hips to make sure everything was in place before setting the chain lock and opening the door an inch to peek out.
    My brother lifted two fingers in his version of hello .
    “Brian?” I pushed the door shut enough to unclip the chain and move out of the way so he could come in. “Have you ever actually been in my apartment?”
    “Har har.” He huffed and shouldered his way inside, made it halfway through the living room before stopping and glancing around blankly like maybe he hadn’t ever been in my apartment after all. It was sort of not true. He’d been there, but not long enough to have an actual conversation. “The couch is new.”
    “No, just in a new spot.” I shoved a wayward bra from the back of the couch under a throw pillow. “What’s up, bro?”
    “I hate it when you call me that.” He sucked in a breath, glanced around at the various seating options, and chose the chair by the window that was remarkably free of random clothes or books. “I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s been more than a fucking month. Can’t remember the last time you stayed away that long.”
    I plopped cross-legged in middle of the room facing him. “I’ve been busy.”
    “Too busy to answer your phone?”
    “Kind of.” I turned my attention to running my fingers through the purple, fluffy rug beneath me. “I got a job but I’m still working on design stuff on the side. I’m pretty exhausted by the time I get home.”
    “You got a job?” Brian ran a hand across his jaw which I realized had been shaved smooth. He looked ten years younger, baby faced despite his compact, muscular body. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved his scruff. I squinted and gave him a once over. He’d cut his hair too and his clothes looked newer, or at least less wrinkly. Mysterious.
    “It’s no big deal.” I shrugged. “Just something steady to help me pay the rent.”
    “Yeah,