Elmo taps at the door. Says through the screen, “I know you’re awake.”
He rolls onto his side, faces the door. Midge just drifted off again beneath the mobile. But he’s been spinning the hoop, around and around. She hardly pays attention anymore, even when she is awake. Just crawls off.
“Come in,” he says.
She walks in. Stands watching him.
He should have put on a shirt.
“Do you ever sleep?” she says.
He sits up, ducks into the bedroom, comes back out pulling on a tee. “I suppose you want to start in on the bathroom,” he says.
She sits, on the chair edge, keeps her head down, looking at Midge. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you at the party.”
“I know.”
She glances up. “You noticed?” she says, but digs at her back pocket. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.” It’s an envelope. Creased and folded. “I thought the party’d be the perfect time.” She pulls the paper out of the envelope. “But I changed my mind.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I got my student teaching assignment.”
He sits on the couch, facing her. “That’s good. Right?”
She keeps looking at Midge. Her hair, almost caught behind her ear, falls forward. The crooked part line. Somewhere between red and brown. Mahogany. Not as flame as it had looked that first night, in the bar.
Marnie’s hair, splayed around her on the bare floor, an almost perfect match for the maple.
“It’s in Helena,” she says. “Other side of the mountains.”
He hitches. “I thought it was going to be here,” he says.
More hair falls across her face as she nods. “I know. Me too.”
Taz looks at Midge. The two of them watching her sleep.
“When?” he says.
“End of the month. But I’ll have to go over, find a place to live.”
“How long?”
“The whole semester. Till Christmas.”
“Then?”
She blows out a sigh. “Put out apps. Wait.”
Taz puts his fingertips together. He has no idea what to say, has not given this moment a second of thought. Has not thought a single day ahead ever. Not since. Only moving. Motion.
“For Midge,” she says, “there’s a couple people from school. I could ask for you.”
“What about your house?” he says. “Students starting back. Rent it?”
She glances up at him.
He tries a smile. “I could watch it for you. Do anything that needs to be done.”
“Like what, the manager?”
“I don’t know, I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t, okay? I think we can just leave it for a while, right? You know, wait and see where I get a job. If. Gives me some place to crash whenever I can get back over.”
He looks down, sees he’s still holding his fingertips together. Like some kind of asshole. A lawyer or something. He stands, his head doing a little spin, no idea where he’s going. “You want,” he says, “some coffee or something?”
He’s in the kitchen before he knows he’s started there. Finds the grinder in his hand, the tin in the other. He looks at the grinder. The coffee. Knows they go together. He just has to figure out how. Like the game he plays with Midge. Two of these things belong together.
When she touches him, barely, fingertips between his shoulder blades, he starts, the leap nothing he can pretend away.
“Jesus, Taz,” she whispers.
“I, it’s, just. I don’t know, it’s just, Midge. What she’s going to do without you.” He turns slightly toward her, tries again to smile. “I was, I’m making some coffee,” he says. “It’ll just be a minute.”
She fills the whistler, turns on the flame. “I’ll talk to these two girls I know,” she says.
“Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.” He hits the grind button. The blades whirring.