Wait for It

by Mariana Zapata

The exhaled, “Jesus fucking Christ,” had me frowning at Dallas. I watched as both his hands went up to his head and he cupped each side of his skull, interlacing his fingers at the top. “What is it?” I asked, suddenly getting a little frustrated at his reaction. He didn’t seem to hear me as he sighed, the sound distraught and almost furious. “What the hell did I do?” I asked him, not understanding but wanting to. Dallas was still focused on the toolbox when he answered me, his voice thick and strained. “I can’t do this tonight, Diana. I can’t fucking do this right now.” “Do what?” “You’re—” He closed his eyes and covered them with his palms for a moment before dropping his arms at his sides. He finally raised his gaze to mine, something in those hazel irises looking pained as he said, “I’ll help you build it. Don’t ask your dad. I just can’t do it right now. Okay?” “That’s all right.” I took in his stricken features all over again. “Are you okay?” He lifted a hand but didn’t confirm yes or no. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He took a step back and eyed my toolbox one more time, his chest taking a big inhale and a bigger exhale. “Night.”