Someone Else's Fairytale

Chapter Four: Danger Fields

“They slashed your tires?” Matthew was over for the evening, his last evening in Albuquerque before he went home for a couple of weeks. I'd just taken enchiladas out of the oven, so the whole kitchen smelled like warm corn tortilla, melted cheese, and green chile.

“I know, it's so stupid,” I said.

“So, wait, Jason Vanderholt-”

“Just stopped by to apologize for digging up family dirt. It's nothing. And I told my coworkers what happened with my car, so they all know not to tell anyone he came by to see me.”

“Maybe he should pay for your tires.”

“No. Come on. I was able to repair them for twelve bucks. They weren't even slashed, really. The person used nails or screws or something like that.”

“If the person had keyed your car-”

“I wouldn't pay to fix that.”

“But... you drive a sports car.”

“Which is kind of a long story. Dr. Winters bought that for my mom to buy her off, I guess, right before they broke up. She doesn't want the thing anymore, but it still runs, so she gave it to me. I would never get one like that for myself. And it's old. It's ten years old.”

Matthew was perched on the kitchen's one barstool. The house was small and badly designed, and there wasn't really anywhere to eat, just one square of counter space with that barstool. Lori and I had talked about getting a table off Craig's List or Freecycle, but in order to make room for it, we'd have to move the couch out, and that would leave us no place to lounge and watch television.

“So, rumor has it that Jon wanted to take you to Tia Anita's tonight,” said Matthew.

Dang, I thought. Caught. “How did you know?”

“From Lori. Things definitely over with him?”

“Yeah, they've been over for a month.”

“But he's not getting the clue, huh?”

“Nope.”

“At least he remembers your favorite restaurant. You sure you wouldn't rather go? They're getting a new chef soon. The food might not be the same.”

“I'm positive. And yes, I'm totally using you tonight as my excuse. Sorry.”

“I don't mind. Not if you cook.”

I got out a spatula and pried apart the rolls of tortilla. Gouts of steam spurted up where I parted the melted cheese. Matthew came around and got plates down from the cupboard and I put two enchiladas on his and one on mine. Strings of cheese reached after each serving that I had to cut with the blunt spatula edge.

“You want water?” I asked. “Or I think we have juice.”

“Water's fine.” He carried the plates into the living room and put them on the coffee table. He was too polite to eat on the couch, even though it wasn't a very nice couch. Instead he parked himself on the floor.

I filled two water glasses and went to join him.

“Dare I ask why you're so abruptly and completely over Jon?” he asked.

“We had the Talk.”

“What's the Talk?”

“It's when I explain to a guy that I'm not going to sleep with him.”

“Oh.”

“More info than you want, I'm sure.”

“You've never spent the night with any of your boyfriends?”