Chapter 69

Ethan wakes abruptly at three a.m. When he sees the time, he closes his eyes and tries to fool himself into falling back to sleep, but it’s no good, he’s as wide awake and buzzing as if it were ten a.m. and he’d just had his second coffee.

He sits up and chucks his pillow on the floor like it’s to blame. He listens to the sounds of the apartment—the whir of the refrigerator, the agonizing drip of a tap. He should get up and turn it off, but he doesn’t want to risk running into a shirtless Carter. The guy never wears a fucking shirt. This will be his fifth night in a row staying over, which most people agree is excessive for a housemate’s new boyfriend.

Carter doesn’t behave like a guest or even a grown-up. He behaves like a giant, spoiled preschooler. A permanent trail of Carter-related detritus snakes throughout the apartment: his half-eaten protein bar on the dining room table, his sopping-wet towel on the bathroom floor, his uncapped deodorant in the bathroom cabinet, his T-shirts draped over the backs of chairs. His booming voice is the first thing Ethan hears when he comes home. If Jasmine’s bedroom door is closed Ethan puts on headphones fast, but once he wasn’t quick enough to miss overhearing Carter moan, “Oh baby!”

Ethan has been avoiding coming home so he won’t have to interact with him. He’s been working late, going to the gym, making dinner plans with whichever friends are available, turning up uninvited at his parents’ place. They’re always happy to see him, but one time they were rushing out the door to meet friends for dinner, which made him feel pathetic, especially when they invited him along and he said Yes, please and had a good time. If this continues he’ll have to move out. It’s affecting his mental health. Maybe his physical health. He feels mildly sick all the time because the whole place reeks of Carter’s aftershave. It’s getting into his clothes. His mother sniffed his shirt and said he was imagining it, but he’s not. This morning he literally retched when he caught sight of Carter’s underarm hair on his deodorant stick while he cleaned his teeth.

Jasmine never stays at Carter’s place and Ethan doesn’t know why. Perhaps Carter is one of those man-children who still live at home. He probably has his own wing in his parents’ cliff-side Eastern Suburbs mansion, where the housekeeping staff discreetly picks up his shit. It’s not clear what, if anything, Carter does for a living. He tosses meaningless words about like “consulting” and “investment.” Jasmine’s lack of a job is cute, but Carter’s lack of a job is offensive.

Ethan is suddenly irritable. Angry. He needs to sleep. Unlike Jasmine and Carter, Ethan is a regular person, with a regular job requiring him to be up early, and tomorrow he’s doing a boring in-house training course that will require concentration.

He gets out of bed. He will turn off the dripping tap. He will make himself a cup of tea with one of the Sleepytime tea bags that Jasmine is always offering him. He will not put on a shirt. He pays rent. He too will walk shirtless around his apartment like Carter.

He is toggling the tea bag in his mug while scrolling on his phone when Jasmine appears in the kitchen. He’s only switched on the range’s hood light above the cooktop so she is a shadowy, bundled-up figure.

“Are you wearing a scarf?” asks Ethan.

She shivers. “Carter likes the bedroom freezing.”

“I’m trying out one of your tea bags,” says Ethan. “Do you want one?”

“Yes, please,” says Jasmine. He gets a second cup and when he turns she’s illuminated by the bright light of the open refrigerator, like a beautiful actress under a spotlight on a dark stage about to deliver a dramatic monologue.

She says, “English muffin?”

“Sure,” says Ethan. He wonders if Carter is asleep, if they just had oh baby sex, then banishes the thought.

Jasmine toasts the muffins. Ethan puts out two plates. She finds honey in the pantry. It’s her special honey, made by a family friend who has started up beekeeping at their “hobby farm.” The hobby farm has its own homestead and another one for the live-in managers. Carter is the right man for her, not Ethan. Carter also has family friends like that. He is not amazed by her life. Why is Ethan pining for a princess when he is a peasant?

Women don’t find self-pity an attractive trait, says Harvey. They like confidence.

Please, you were the self-pity king, Harvey!

He remembers he hasn’t had a chance to show Jasmine the video of the car accident. Obviously he hasn’t wanted to talk about it in front of Carter. It’s officially gone from the internet but he’s kept a recording.

“Remember the lady on the plane?” he says as he puts the tea bags in the sink.

“Of course,” she says. She turns to look at him. “Has something happened?”

He finds the video, offers his phone. She licks honey from her fingers and takes it.

The volume is low but loud enough for him to hear the sounds of the deadly collision. Jasmine gasps on cue.

“Oh, Ethan, ” she says. They are standing close to each other, her hand on his bare chest.

The kitchen floods with fierce, blinding light.

Carter blinks and frowns, his hand on the light switch, and says with ferocious sarcasm, “Ah, sorry, guys, am I interrupting?”