deal - cl16

part five

The last time you froze like you did at that exact moment was when you were about to cross the crosswalk and a car almost flattened you because the driver didn't see you. You were staring ahead, holding your breath. Your heart had skipped a few beats.

Only now there is no road in front of you, with moving cars and a bicyclist worrying and asking if everything is okay with you (you were just scared, everything was fine).

Now Charles is standing in front of you. With your phone to his ear.

"Allô?" His green eyes gleam in the daylight streaming through the kitchen windows, resting on you as your heart skips a few beats before it starts to race.

Your hand clings to the poor potato as if it were a buoy keeping you afloat. You can't take your eyes off your roommate.

"C'est sa colocataire," Charles says. "Et à qui je parle?" this is her roomate. and who am I talking to?

You feel yourself crushing the potato in your hand, but you can't manage to loosen your grip. It spills out from between your fingers and crumbles onto the countertop, but you can't think about cleaning it up right now. Your nerves are on edge, your head is empty.

Charles speaks something into the phone, but you don't understand a word. His voice sounds as if through absorbent cotton, as if he were standing far away from you. You look at him, transfixed, as he holds your cell phone in his hand as if it were his own.

He takes it from his ear and presses the red button before putting it back in the place from where he had taken it. This time it lies on the screen between the two of you on the kitchen counter.

"'He shouldn't be bothering you anymore now,'" he says, reaching again for the knife lying next to the salmon. A gentle smile has formed on his face.

Charles smiles. Why is he smiling? He has no reason to. None at all.

Your petrification dissolves abruptly and you have to restrain yourself from throwing the mashed potato at his stupid head or pressing his face into the salmon.

How dare he just answer your phone? And especially when he calls? Who does he think he is anyway?

You didn't answer the phone for a reason. Never again did you want to exchange a word with him. At some point he would have already given up, wouldn't have tried to contact you anymore, and then he would have simply disappeared from your life.

But Charles took his call. Without knowing what the consequences would be.

He calmly works on the salmon on the kitchen board in front of him, still a smile on his face, and he hums along to the music that started automatically after he ended the call. It's a quiet song.

The complete opposite of what's going on inside you right now.

You'd love to grab Charles by the back of the head and slam his face into the wall, but of course you don't. You could also take the kitchen towel hanging on the side of the countertop and hit him with it, but you don't do that either.

You could also yell at him. Tell him that he has no right to just answer your phone and interfere in your business. You could yell at him and try to somehow make him understand that this is a private matter and that you actually agreed that private things are private as long as the person doesn't want to talk about it.

You could throw all that at him. But when you open your mouth, not a peep comes out.

Would it be wise to yell at your roommate? The roommate who just stood up for you and made sure you got your already paid rent refunded? The one who lets you stay in his apartment for free without particularly asking much of you in return?