"MITCH!"

She assumed he must not have been able to hear her with his door closed and her shower still running. It made her so angry she choked back a scream with her sobs. It wasn't his fault, but no money from Jake, Gadge being a dick, Will cancelling their date, and smashing the full bottle of perfume she'd bought to celebrate things getting better had shaken her like a dropped can of Dr. Pepper. Mitch not hearing her just cracked her open. Emma Dotrice was not okay.

"Okay. Okay," she tried to calm herself. "You can tantrum and die later. If you can get out of here, and not have to go to the hospital to have glass picked out of your feet, this day won't be the worst day of your life. Not even close. Okay."

She ripped the pillow case off the wall intending to lay it down flat as close to the door as she could. Her plan was to stretch out to stand on it, then jump to the glass free zone of her hallway. She bent over and tried to spread it out like a picnic blanket with a waving motion, but the edge of it hit the wet of perfume and shower drips and dragged to fold on itself like a batter curl. She thought she could try again, reaching out one of her feet to pull it closer to her. The pillow case turned into a wet mop covered in glass with no spot safe to stand on. Every part of her body clenched with rage.

It now seemed the towel wrapped around her was the obvious choice. Maybe if she'd been thinking clearly she would've thought of it first. She hesitated to drop it right away because if Mitch had heard her, he might burst into his bathroom to catch the sight of her hopping starkers down her hallway. She decided to count to sixty. He had one minute, and then she was going for it.

He only needed ten more seconds.

He knocked on the door and she heard him open it.

"Am I crazy or did you call me?"

"I did, but I'm okay now, thanks. Just go away."

"What happened?"

He could probably hear that she'd been crying. She didn't want to be rude to him, she just wanted him gone. "I saw a spider."

"You didn't scream like that for a spider."

"I really fucking hate them though," she said bitterly.

"Are you okay? Wait a sec. Where did my razors go? Emma, did you...?"

"I just needed to borrow one. I'm sorry."

"Unbelievable."

"God, I'll replace it, okay? I forgot I needed one. Can you just get out?"

"So you crawled through the hole in the wall to steal back the razors you bought me and what? Did you get stuck? Are you hurt?"

"No," she huffed and twisted to look at him through the hole. "I accidentally knocked a five hundred dollar bottle of perfume off of my counter and there's glass everywhere."

"Huh. Well, is your front door unlocked? I'll come and help you."

"No it's not. Look, it's okay. I'm just going to throw my towel on the floor like a carpet."

"Why don't I give you one of my towels then you can keep the one you have on, you know, on."

"Okay, sure."

"You know what though?" Mitch said hesitantly. "Maybe not my towels. My dad got these for me when I went off to college."

"Fine. I don't need it. Please just shut the door and give me privacy."

"I know, I'll get you a pair of my shoes."

Emma's knee started to bounce as another scream built up inside of her, and that was just because he insisted on getting her the shoes. When he called out "head's up!" and the first of two loafers flew out next to her face, straight down the hall nearly to her kitchen, she just about lost her mind.

"Are you KIDDING??!"

"I didn't expect them to go that far," Mitch said defensively. He cut a small laugh short but she heard it.

"You think this is funny?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. It wasn't a forward pass. I just don't know my own strength. Just wait."

A moment later she heard him grunt as he leaned over into the gap holding out a pair of white trainers. "Here, put these on."

"Your father didn't give you these? It's okay if they get perfume and glass on them?" she asked sarcastically. She already had them on her feet. "Holy cow! What size are these?"

"Just do what you gotta do and give 'em back to me whenever."

"I'm getting down now don't look."

"I just want to be sure you don't trip."

"No, but I might pull a hamstring trying to lift this foot off the ground." Once she was on her feet, she said," I'm fine. Please just close the door behind you and give me some time to clean everything up."

Mitch did as she asked wordlessly.

Glass squeaked, crunched and popped under the rubber of Mitch's size thirteen sneakers. It seemed like there were more crystals and chunks that one bottle could possibly have been made of. She reached the second third of the hallway where the floor seemed clear and stepped out of shoes, not wanting to drag glass further along with her. She was still afraid of cutting her feet on a rogue sliver though, so when she got to Mitch's brown leather loafers laying at the foot of her kitchen she slipped them on and then slumped into a seat at her table and started weeping again. This was more for the exercise. She was at the part of her fit where even as she cried she realized it was no use. A person can feel like they can't take anymore all they want, and then when more comes, they just have to take it. Her blurry eyes wandered to her closet. Should she Swiffer first or vacuum? Or listen to Will's message and die and then decide?

The sudden click of her front door caused her to jump out of fright and then it was all too late. Her towel fell to the chair beneath her just as Mitch poked his head around the corner of the foyer saying, "Your door was unlocked. Anything I can - "

"GET OUT!!!" Emma screamed, scrambling to make a hand bikini over her exposed parts. Mitch spun around shocked as if he'd been cold cocked by The Invisible Man. She was still screaming at him, naked and wearing his giant loafers, when she heard his door slam shut.

*****

Man, he really messed up.

He didn't know what he was thinking letting himself into Emma's. He just wanted to help her. Now she was going to think he just helped himself to the sight of her freaked out and naked like the perv she always suspected he was. He felt awful about it. He was embarrassed and he was fully dressed! Emma, on the other hand, well, the way Mitch saw it, if he was a woman and he looked like her he'd be walking around naked all day, but he sure as hell couldn't tell her that.

He felt sorry for her too. Her sister not even gone a year and she had taken on all that weight of the responsibility of taking care of the boy. She was still grieving, if she had the chance to grieve at all. No wonder she was so quick to anger. Now he understood all the fed up, hostile looks she used to give him for no reason. What was going to happen now that she had one? He owed her an apology but he didn't dare go back over there tonight. He tried to think of a way to make it up to her, a gift or a favour he could do. Maybe, if he couldn't make her life better, finding a way to make it easier would be enough.

The next night he ordered a ridiculous amount of Chinese take-out to bring over to Emma's. If she invited him in, he would dine with her and Gabe. If she still looked pissed, he would drop it off for her and have something else for dinner. The closer he got to home, the greater the chance of having to forfeit his sweet and sour ribs seemed to be, so he ran them over to his apartment first, then returned to Emma's door.

Gabe opened it.

"Hi!"

"Hey kid, how's it going?"

"Good."

"Good."

"How's it going with you?"

"Good."

"Good. What do you got in the bag?"

"Chinese food. Do you like Chinese food?"

"Yeah, it's great, except when they try to sneak broccoli in it."

"Nobody's sneaking it. Broccoli's a big part of Asian cooking."

"One girl I carpool with brought sushi for lunch and it was raw salmon."

"That's Japanese and it's actually delicious."

"The other girl I carpool with says it's fine if you want worms coming out of your butt. But she said 'ass'."

"I mean, is it possible? I don't know."

"The first one, Shazza, said if you put a piece of sushi in the microwave to cook it, it'll explode. Then Isla, the other one, said if you want to see a butt explode eat raw fish with a lot of worm eggs in it."

"If you really want to see food explode in the microwave, try a hard boiled egg. But get rid of the shell first or you'll blow the doors off."

Gabe nodded like he was adding it to a mental list. Mitch couldn't believe he'd given egg-grenade instructions to the kid that drilled holes in his wall.

"Well, nice talking to you. Goonight," Gabe said and started to close the door.

"Wait a second. I brought this food over because I thought you and your aunt might like Chinese for dinner."

"Really? Awesome. Come in! Auntie Emma! Mr. Garner brought us dinner."

"What?!"

The expression on her face when he turned the ol' corner again was not one of welcome.

"I didn't invite myself over. I just wanted to say sorry for the other day and give you this peace offering. Thought you could take the night off cooking."

"What are you sorry for?" Gabe asked.

"Expecting your aunt to go long. And for scaring her. I just wanted to help."

"Well, you did enough. Thank you very much for this, but we were going to have spaghetti."

"I'm having Chinese food," Gabe said defiantly.

"Gabe."

"Come on. Pleeease. It smells so good."

"Then say thanks to Mr. Garner and show him to the door."

"You mean he's not eating with us? That's not fair."

"Gabe, it's fine," Mitch said. Gabe looked at Emma. Emma looked at Mitch. He sighed dramatically. "I guess I'll just go home and have some dry toast or something."

"Fine," Emma said to Gabe, "but you're doing his dishes.

She brought three plates to the table and triple the spoons and forks. Gabe was pretty excited as Mitch opened container after container. Chicken and cashews, shrimp and almonds, bean curd and broccoli, noodles and rice and rolls and more. Mitch passed the chow mein to Emma, trying to get her to meet his eye to see if he was forgiven. The fact that he had to try so hard should have been a clue.

"So," he said, "Gabe told me about carpool. Doesn't the school do busses anymore?"

"They do but we're not on the route," Emma said flatly, stabbing three water chestnut disks on her fork.

"How's that going?"

"I'm not driving because I don't have a car. I sold it when I started travelling for work all the time. We'll get one in the New Year, won't we, Gabe? For now you like the girls you're carpooling with, right?"

Gabe nodded with his mouth full.

"I heard about them too," Mitch said.

"It's my birthday next week," Gabe piped up after he washed down the last bite.

"It is? How old are you going to be? Nine?"

"Yup."

"Geez, pretty soon you're going to have to start doing taxes. What are you doing for your birthday?"

Gabe's mouth was full so he snapped and pointed to Emma, looking like he wanted to laugh.

"Gabe is infamously last minute. We still haven't decided between an escape room thing or a movie for his whole class."

She glanced up at Mitch, almost like she forgot she didn't want to. He hoped the chill was thawing.

"I should've brought wine," he said. "You're going to need it. Want me to go get?"

She shook her head no. There was still no smile.

"Yeah, and my Dad's probably going to call me too," Gabe said.

"We hope he'll be feeling up to it and be able to," Emma said, placing her fork down slowly.

"If he doesn't call me then he doesn't care about me, and I won't speak to him ever again," Gabe said matter-or factly.

Emma got up and brought a bottle of white wine back from her kitchen.

Gabe started staring at the sleeve of Mitch's tee shirt.

"Did I get something on me?"

"Do you have a tattoo under there?"

"Oh that. Yes, I do. I forget she's there sometimes." Mitch rolled his sleeve up over his shoulder to reveal one of the dumber decisions of his youth: a pin-up girl in a sailor suit sitting on an anchor above a blank ribbon banner.

"Cool," Gabe said.

"Someone you knew?" Emma asked.

"No, just a design I picked off a wall when I was bored." Mitch looked at Gabe. "A mistake. A tattoo should mean something. It should say something about who you are."

"Auntie Em, can I have a tattoo for my birthday?"

"Sure. Your eighteenth."

"I would get a robot, but like, maybe one made out of rocks."

"Actually, microchips are made with silicon which is basically sand so you're not too far off."

"Do you have any tattoos?" Gabe asked Emma.

"No. It's like Mr. Garner said, I could never think of one that I'd want to look at forever."

"You could get it on your back so you wouldn't have to see it all the time."

"Everybody at work has at least one. My friend says I'm like a cupcake without frosting."

"My old man used to say a woman with tattoos is like a banana with bruises. Still good for you, but not for long."

Shit.

He knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it. She didn't know his father's humour. If she did she wouldn't have had the same look on her face as someone sneaking up on a cockroach with a shoe behind their back.

"What a stupid, sexist thing to say."

"You're right. It's awful. I guess a thing doesn't have to be right or good to stick with you. Anyone want to know my favourite quote of all time?"

"Is it Shakespeare?" Gabe guessed.

"Nope. A major league outfielder named Oscar Gamble. He was getting fed up with how the baseball organizations were being run and he said, People 'don't think it be like it is, but it do.'"

"That doesn't make any sense," Gabe giggled.

"Ah, but it do. Even if it sounds like nonsense, I think it just about applies to everything."

Emma just sipped her wine and stared at the wall.

The only conversation for the rest of the meal was between Mitch and Gabe. As soon as fortune cookies were cracked, Emma sent Gabe to his room to get his stuff ready for school the next day. She then immediately got up and started clearing plates without a word Mitch, that is, until he tried to help and she said, "Don't."

"Well, this was nice," he said, not knowing where to stand or put his hands as she started doing the dishes.

"Look," she said. "I was talking to my friend Petey and he kinda underestimated his recovery time, meaning it's going to take him a longer to fix the hole."

"How much longer?"

She was cleaning the same plate for so long it looked like she was trying to scrub the pattern out of it."A lot. I don't know."

"It is what it is. We're managing."

"Oh sure," she said sarcastically.

"It's not ideal, but..."

"Some of us are loving it way more than others," she muttered and slammed a handful of utensils down in the sink.

"For chrissake, Emma, I'm sorry," Mitch said, trying to sound as sincere as he could in his hushed tone. "It was a mistake. I didn't see anything."

"The hell you didn't, but I don't care about that. I do care that you seem to think you can waltz on over here whenever you want now."

"What?"

"You think you're gonna swoop in and be a hero no one asked for? Please. And don't use Gabe to get to me, if that's what you're doing. It's not going to work. As a matter of fact, I'd like you to think before you speak to him. I mean really think about what you're saying to an impressionable young boy who's got nothing but disasters around him to look up to. Women with tattoos are bruised bananas. How arrogant are you?"

Mitch was stunned. The balls on her!What the hell was she talking about?

"Boy, you have got some chip on your shoulder. Using Gabe to get to you? For what?"

"Whatever, Mitch. Thanks for dinner. Feel free to go."

"Let me tell you something, I spend zero time thinking about you or the kid when I'm out there living my life. You think I'm arrogant? I'm not the one suggesting this entire situation was an elaborate plot to get into your pants."

"I didn't say that. I'm just saying don't get any ideas."

"If I had any ideas, which I most certainly do not, I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. Not while you're still in this anger stage of your grief."

Her face went red.

"Excuse me? What is it you think you know about me?"

"Surprise! I've mourned too, okay? You're not the only one, even if it feels like that. Have you even had the chance to grieve your sister properly with all this shit piled on top of you? Not the kid – you know what I mean. I understand loss enough to know it's different for everybody, but nobody skips the anger stage, and I think you're stuck in it."

She looked shocked and incensed at the same time.

"Oh, a stages expert. Are you a counsellor now? You think I'm angry at God for taking my sister, and that I'm not dealing with it, right? Believe me, I'd love to know why He did. I'd truly fucking love to, but I'm not mad at Him. I'm not mad at Sophie for leaving me either. I don't blame her. She didn't choose it. Am I angry at the guy who got drunk and killed her? Why wouldn't I be? I'm not suppressing it. I'm not angry about anything else. I'm heartbroken, you condescending prick."

"You think that's all it's about? It's also about resenting people for being alive when you're sister isn't. It's about not being able to tolerate anyone who makes life more difficult than it already is, through stupidity or selfishness, especially those special assholes who go out of their way to be miserable fucks and get their kicks doing it. I get it. I get it, Emma, but that's not me. I'm not that asshole, and your heartbreak, no matter how deep, doesn't justify you being one either. Goodnight."

He didn't wait to see if she wanted to keep arguing. Why should he stand there and take her shit? Especially when it would only antagonize her into saying things that would make her feel worse. He knew Gabe was watching him from the hall as he went for the door to leave. He didn't say goodbye. Didn't even make eye contact as he passed. Then he stopped himself and took a few steps back.

"Remember," he said, "take the shell off first."

Under the circumstances, it was the best he could do.