db.ii

Mr. Reyes wasn’t going to let him remain silent. “So
what do you do, Terry?”

There it was. The question that Terence had most hoped
his new landlord wouldn’t ask. The truth was he didn’t know, even though he had
his vague answer prepared. What did he do now? Now he figured he just kept
swimming and hoped he didn’t drown and drag down Kyla with him. He was supposed
to be finishing his job at the Country Club and banking his money for his first
year at the University, which was only a month and a half away now. He was
supposed to be a student by then, living his first year alone, without Kyla. He
was supposed to become a businessman, to get his MBA and come out the other end
with limitless job prospects, to make his Mom and Dad proud. But he couldn’t
leave Kyla, and they wouldn’t help him help Kyla, and now he was here doing
what he knew was right for the person he loved.

“I’m a waiter,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah,” said Mr. Reyes. “What restaurant? I’ve
probably been there.” He punctuated his words with a loud “heh” and an open
handed slap to both sides of his big belly, then stopped at the stairs of building
three. “After you, Terry.”

Terence took advantage of the stairs to escape the
question, taking them two at a time to the open corridor of the second floor,
leaving Mr. Reyes behind for a moment. He stopped at the top of the stairs and
looked down the corridor. The first apartment was 3201. Theirs must be near the
end, at the other side of the building. His and Kyla’s. It was all, suddenly,
feeling very real. He reached out his hand to the stuccoed ledge, painted aqua
blue, weather dulled, littered with bird shit, and held on, waiting for Mr.
Reyes to join him.