Our Contract of Distrust

-- 23 --

"Whaaat?!"

Someone screeching like a dying horse is never particularly pleasant.

But it's a lot worse when it's directly into your ear.

"Shh!" I reach out to try to silence Trin, but she twists away from me and swats my hand.

"You did what?!"

I regret agreeing to share a bed with her.

"Be quiet already."

"Dear Lord. I never thought you were serious about those poisons."

"I wasn't! ... entirely."

For a moment she just stares at me with an arched brow. "That poor kid."

"Kid? How is that stern-faced guy a poor kid?"

"But you like- literally strangled him?"

"Well... yeah, kinda."

"And yet- well I didn't get the impression that he was terrified out of his mind by you, but then maybe I read the mood wrong."

"Please stop. It's not like that."

"Right. Because you suspect he's also a psychopath."

"I don't! And also?"

"Darling, you full-on pounced on him."

"It's not like it was premeditated!"

"But the poisons were."

"I don't have any damn poisons."

"Right. Because your supplier," she indicates to herself, "had run out."

"I thought you said you don't make poisons?"

"I don't!"

"Can we please just change the topic now?"

"No."

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I'm not entirely sure if I do this to try to shut down the conversation, or just to prepare for another onslaught.

There's rustling beside me as Trin repositions herself also.

"Honestly, I think you were reading into things wrong," as per usual, Trin is the first to break the silence, "He just seems legitimately awkward to me."

I get where she's coming from. You interpret things how you want to, to a certain degree. But there was more to it than that. More than just awkwardness.

There were memories, strange things he'd say, the palpable tension, how he taunted me on our wedding night, and most of all, him being so worked up when I opened the box.

It was still all one big convoluted mess.

Trin sighs.

"I get it. There are still too many questions," she says, "And you'd think if he was innocent he'd just explain things. Social awkwardness is no real excuse. He could still at least try. I mean, he even wanted to marry you?"

I shake my head. "I don't remember. But I can't imagine this being my idea."

Trin agrees on that point.

"I still can't believe you told them you met him in a supermarket," she says.

"Please just let that rest already."

"So-uh, that file. Do you think I could take a look at it?"

"Well, I don't know what he did with it after that."

I think back on the tin, the strange file, the picture. "As much as I want answers, I think a part of me is too afraid to look."

I see Trin nod in my peripheral.

"I'll try asking him about it. If it's okay with you?"

I shrug. "If you don't see it yourself I'll just have to try and relay the information to you anyway."

She doesn't respond, so I turn my head to take a peek. Trin has one of her typical bittersweet smiles on her face again.

They always make me feel weirdly guilty and appreciative at the same time.

For a while neither of us says anything.

Eventually, I work my way up to it, "Hey Trin, how... How do you start a conversation with someone?"

"With Feodor? You saw it yourself; you can ask any random thing."

"Talking about food for an hour is impossible for me."

Trin chuckles. "Just don't overthink it, okay? If you want to say something, then just say something."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Because it is. I mean, what are you so afraid of? Like, could it really get much worse?"

"Well, probably not."

"But surely you've had conversations with him before?"

"Well... yeah." Like seriously awkward ones. Like worse than suddenly blurting out 'what food do you like?' ones.

"Hmm, well I don't know. I just thought you guys kinda had something going on. I mean, the whole-time you guys were talking to me you were obviously more interested in watching each other."

"That's just because I don't get him."

"Oh, so all of a sudden you get me?"

I roll my eyes. "No."

"I'm preetty sure he offered to make tea because you looked less than enthused about us bonding over dinner ideas."

"And here I thought you were too busy drooling over some fish to notice that."

"Please, dear, how many years have I been your social-shield now? It's a tactic. But don't worry, one I use sparingly. I wouldn't want you to pounce on me after all."

I kick her leg in retaliation.

"And that's supposed to somehow prove that my point was unfounded?" she says.

"Shut up."

Trin props herself up on her elbow to look at me. "There was something else I found interesting. The way he said it. Something like 'we have a spare bedroom'. Now does he not realise I'm your official confidant, or do you not typically sleep in here?"

I practically die. Did people normally ask such awkward questions? Or was that just a Trin specialty?

"It's complicated," I say.

"Uh-huh, aren't all relationships? But so, him knowing about me is complicated or your sleeping arrangement is complicated?"

"I mean... I don't always sleep in here."

"For real? When you hate on him so much?"

It really is complicated.

Recently, I've been sleeping in the main bedroom. But it's like I'm walking on eggshells.

I slip under the sheets as quietly as possible, back turned to Feodor.

In some ways, it's not all that different from sleeping in a different bed entirely.

Except that you can feel the other person's presence.

And I'm not sure why Feodor seems to prefer that.

Maybe he is still guarding the metal box. 

Trin plops back down with a sigh. "You two really are more than a little odd."

"Yeah. But so are you."

"Touché."

Trin and I don't say much else, both lost in our own thoughts.

I'm lost in memories of encounters with Feodor. Of pointless small talk. Questioning stares.
Of those pale blue eyes always searching mine.

And I wonder if he can sleep as well without me by his side.