Three

I sit on the counter, listening to the birds in the trees outside. The main patio door is open, but the screen is closed and locked.

What if I did get a roommate? Especially a nurse? Would anything actually change around here?

Sure, he'd be around on occasion, but probably just a few hours at night before he went to bed. I could pretend to be okay for a few hours. And then I'd be helping someone out, too. Until he finds a more permanent place to stay. Because obvious he won't be living with me forever. Right?

I guess it wouldn't hurt to help someone out.

I slide off of the counter, carefully grabbing my coffee as I walk over to the phone and pick it up, putting it to my ear. I dial Paul's number, then listen as it rings. I can't remember if this number is his cellphone or office phone.

After a few rings, he picks up. "Afternoon, Aedin."

It's so much easier to talk when the person is actually here. Then I can nod.

"Yeah, good morning," I shrug. "So I was thinking about that thing we talked about and I don't think it would hurt to let someone stay with me for a while."

"That's wonderful," he says. "I'll give Arthur your number and you two can get everything arranged for him to move in."

"Okay. Bye."

"Talk to you soon," he says cheerfully.

I hang up and go back into the kitchen. I'm hungry, but I really don't feel like making anything. Even what I did a few days ago. And I think if I ate, I'd feel like throwing up. I always feel sick when I eat.

I hope tomorrow I feel full again.

I grab a small box of crackers out of the cupboard and head back upstairs to my bedroom to wait for the call.

-----------------------------------------------------

Days later, it comes. I'm sitting in the kitchen again.

I've gone back and forth on the idea since calling Paul.

On the worst days, I worry that having a roommate would impede any future plans to kill myself.

On better days, I remind myself that that's a good thing.

And on days where I don't think about it much at all, I wonder if the small-town nurse is handsome or if he'll like me, or if we'll be friends. The best I can hope for is that he's nice.

I pick up the phone after a few rings, wondering if I should really do this. I can't just not pick up the phone ever again.

It's a new voice. It's mid-tone, not particularly deep or high-pitched. He sounds like he's frowning. I imagine tall teeth, a little gap in the middle. He hisses for his s's and I hear a faint whistle on the th's. He doesn't sound young -- Maybe 23, 25. Only a little younger than me.

And he almost makes me laugh.

"Hello, this is--" There's a crack, and I hear him faintly curse. "Fuck--"

A moment passes. I hear him rustling around a little, and his voice comes back, crisp. "I dropped you, I'm sorry."

Excellent.