Page 6 of Surrender to Me

“Owen’s not staying?” Clay asked.

I wrinkled my nose. “How’d you know he was here?”

“I saw his car.”

I shrugged. “He’s busy, I guess,” I said. It was amusing and slightly concerning that Clay showed interest in Owen. They hadn’t exactly been the best of friends the last time I checked. Clay had warned me about Owen’s lack of interest in relationships, that he thought Owen might be a player and hurt me. And then I realized something: Clay knew Owen’s car?

“Wait. Clay, I—”

“We cleaned Jake’s stink out for you,” Misty said, cutting me off. She put her hand around my back, ushering me inside. “But it’s the kind of thing where you’re going to have to Febreze it for a long time. That man was po-tent.”

It turned out that Misty was into the arts too. She studied theater at San Francisco State University and was an undergraduate like Clay was, though she was still twenty. I teased Clay, pointing out his tendency to keep the artistic types close. Misty quizzed me about my sculpture work like a lawyer, asking about the particulars, my resources, and my intentions. It would’ve been intimidating if her spirit wasn’t so warm. She wanted to know simply because Clay said I was important to him, and I respected that.

“I can tell we’re going to be good friends,” she said, holding my arm. I could too.

They helped bring in my bags and boxes, even though I didn’t need the help. I didn’t have much in my possession anymore. It was easier that way. Less to think about, less to worry about, less to hold onto, less to keep close. I guess that’s why I had always found it easier to be alone, to keep one or two good friends, like Clay and my mother, and to let go of everything else. It was hard to know that despite that, Owen, once again, or perhaps still, had a hold on me. I could pretend like he didn’t mean anything to me, and yet even when he wasn’t around, his fingers clenched my heart and soul.