Keep the Windows Closed

MAGGIE MACKENZIE

‘I hate going to gay clubs.’

I look up from the page I’m reading just in time to see Steve shovel a large spoonful of cereal into his mouth. ‘I get groped all the time,’ he says in between bites.

I lower my book to the kitchen counter and raise an eyebrow at him. ‘I wonder what walking into a club and getting touched without consent must feel like.’ I lift my fingers to my chin in thought. ‘One would think horrible?’

Steve stops chewing. ‘Right, sorry,’ he says through a mouthful of food. I roll my eyes and lower them back to my book. ‘Seriously though, as soon as I step in there, I’m accosted.’ Steve leans his back against the fridge, bringing the cereal bowl close to his chest.

‘So why do you go?’

Steve shrugs. ‘Good music I guess.’ I watch him for a moment. He keeps his eyes firmly on the cereal flake on his spoon. ‘Right. That’s it.’

Steve shoots me a look.

‘May I ask what brought this on?’ In answer, Steve nods to the front cover of the book I’m holding: Red, White & Royal Blue. I raise my eyebrow again. ‘So, a queer romance book made you think about how much you hate gay clubs?’

He shrugs again.

Breathe. In two, three…

‘Alrighty Steve,’ I say, resolutely plastering my eyes on the book. Jesus Chri…

‘What time’s your man home anyway?’ Steve walks around the kitchen counter and pulls out one of the stools, sitting across from me. Kicking him in the dick is abuse, Riley.

‘Sometime this arvo, I think.’

‘So, how’s the book?’

I close my eyes for a fraction of a second, then wedge a finger between the pages to mark my spot and face him. ‘Don’t you have work soon?’

Steve grins and hops off the stool. ‘At 9, should probably go get ready.’

I smile benignly at him. ‘You do that.’

Steve wanders off towards his room at the far end of the apartment, cereal bowl still in his hand. I hear his bathroom door close, and the sound of the shower turn on.

Sighing, I return my gaze to my book for what feels like the tenth time this morning.

A light breeze is just starting to make its way through the living room, cooling the small beads of sweat clinging to my face.

It’s going to be hot today, but I can’t bring myself to get up to close the windows and turn on the aircon. The steady bustle of cars and the sound of Kai’s blinds softly hitting the windowsill every now and then feels oddly calming. But after a few minutes of trying and failing to read the same line on the page, I finally admit defeat and begrudgingly close my book.

Bloody Steve.

I get up and move around the counter, grabbing the kettle and placing it under the tap. As it begins to hiss, I hear Steve’s shower turn off, and a moment later he walks out of his room dressed in his work uniform and carrying the now empty cereal bowl, his hair sopping wet. ‘Staying here for the day are ya?’ he says, moving me aside so he can place the bowl in the sink, and shaking his head slightly so that droplets of water hit me across the face. I scowl at him and wipe my face with my shirt. ‘Probably, I’ve got assignments to do.’

‘Well, just make sure you close Kai’s windows, we’re meant to get a storm this arvo. I doubt he’d be very pleased if his PlayStation got wet.’

‘You know, you could always do it if you’re so concerned.’

Steve turns to me and grins, ‘Nah I’ll leave it for you, good girlfriend and all.’

I make a face at him. Steve salutes, picks up his work bag at the front door and leaves.

Thank fucking God.

As the kettle whistles, I hear Kai’s blinds knock against the windowsill again. I know exactly how pissed off Kai would be if his beloved PlayStation got wet.

Maybe Steve was right.

I pour water into a mug, add a tea bag, and leave it to rest on the counter as I walk towards Kai’s room. The sky beyond his window is the colour of cerulean: clear and cloudless. As I stand in the doorway, a breeze kicks it way across the room and wanders along my neck. I begrudgingly make my way towards the window. My eye instantly catches the picture next to Kai’s bed, as it always does, showing Kai with his arm around another girl’s shoulders. A ‘friendship’ Christmas present, I’m constantly reminded.

I drag my gaze away from the photo and pull his windows shut.

The apartment is sweltering hot. The backs of my legs are sticking to the leather couch in the living room. I have papers spread out in front of me, covering the length of the couch and most of the rug on the floor. Each of papers are littered with red scrawls and marks, as if a toddler has been let loose with a packet of crayons.

My head is starting to hurt.

‘Okay, so if you go there,’ I mutter to myself, moving a sticky note from one page to the next. ‘And if you move down here,’ I say, moving yet another. ‘Then that will work, right?’ The sticky notes stare back at me in boredom.

‘Ugh!’ I scrunch up one of the offending sticky notes and throw it at the wall opposite me. It falls pathetically to the rug without a sound. ‘Why won’t you work!?’

Yeah, ‘cause talking to yourself is going to solve everything.

I stand up suddenly, needing to move, and in the process a few pages fall from the couch to the floor, others sticking to the sweat on my legs. The heat is overwhelming. I rip off the pieces on my legs, ignore ones on the floor, and walk towards Kai’s room.

The sky beyond his window has changed from clear and cerulean to a mottled, soft grey. In the distance, I can just make out slowly blackening clouds moving lazily closer to the city. Kai’s room is so stuffy I can hardly breathe. A bead of sweat trickles down my face.

Fuck it.

I march across the room and throw open the windows. A cool breeze kisses my face, and I sigh with relief. The heat in the apartment seems to lift for a moment, and my head clears. I turn my gaze to the clouds again. Surely that’s hours away?

Taking a deep breath, I walk back into the living room. The rush of breezy air has lifted papers from the couch, and after bending down to scoop them up, I settle myself on the couch once more, the back of my legs no longer sticky with sweat.

The sudden sound of a door slamming shut reverberates through the apartment and I jump so hard that I accidently poke myself with my pen.

‘What...’ I look around the apartment for the source of the noise and notice the door to Kai’s bedroom is closed. Shit. Should’ve put the bloody door stopper in. I wander over and turn the handle.

The door doesn’t budge.

Frowning, I try the handle again. The door still doesn’t move. I try for a third time, the handle whimpering feebly as though trying and failing to connect with the lock. I try shoving the door, but it feels like a tidewater of water has hit the other side. I shake the handle again, my movements becoming more and more frantic.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’

Okay think. Breathe. It’s not your fault.

I rush into Steve’s room and peer out of his window, trying to find a way for me to get across into Kai’s, but I am met with nothing but empty air, space, and the ominous looming, darkening clouds. I can just make out Kai’s window a few feet beside me.

Don’t you dare.

I rush back to Kai’s door and try the handle once more, hoping that by some miracle it has fixed itself. ‘Just fucking open!’ I’m crying now, my shoulders and hands shaking uncontrollably. Brief flashes of the layout of the room run across my mind. Kai’s clothes, Kai’s PlayStation, Kai’s phone charger, Kai’s laptop – all in the bloody room. I try and take a couple of breaths, but that only seems to make my chest heave more.

I look at the handle then dash into the kitchen and search frantically for a screwdriver. Finding it in the bottommost draw, I grab it and ram it into the screws attaching the handle to the door. Up close, I can see the force of the door closing has caused the paint to chip. Fragments of paint are scattered on the floor below me. I can already hear Kai’s voice in my head: ‘God you’re an idiot.’

Finally, I get the door handle off and hear a thud as the other half of the handle falls to the ground in Kai’s room. There’s now a large hole in the door where the handle was, and I can see Kai’s open windows and feel a rush of wind, except this time the sweat on my forehead doesn’t cool. Willing my hands to stop shaking, I manage to click the lock out of place. The pressure on the door lifts and it swings forward.

I sit on the floor in silence for a few moments, feeling the wind graze my cheek. I bury my face in my hands.

‘Get much work done?’

I look up from the couch to find Steve standing in the kitchen, work shirt off and holding a bowl of cereal. I hadn’t heard him come in.

‘Not as much as I’d like,’ I say, gathering up the papers littered across the couch and placing them in a pile on the coffee table. ‘The woes of being an English major, I’m afraid.’ Steve grins and walks over to the coffee table, bending down to pick up a page. I smack his hand. He laughs and turns back towards the kitchen, then pauses.

‘What happened there?’ he asks, pointing to the paint chippings on the floor. ‘Oh, just had a bit of a disagreement with the weather.’ Steve looks as me questioningly. ‘The door slammed shut and I couldn’t open it.’

Steve laughs, ‘Ha fuck, lucky you got it open.’ I force a laugh. The door stopper sits mercifully in the door now.

‘Yeah lucky.’ I look around for something to say. ‘That was a short shift.’ I move towards the kitchen counter and prop up on one of the stools, a couple of papers and a pen still in my hand. But before Steve can answer, the front door opens and Kai strides into the kitchen.

I grip the pen in my hand a little tighter. Kai’s eyes narrow slightly as he surveys the scene: Steve standing half naked, eating a bowl of cereal and me sitting at the counter with pen and paper in hand. A slight twinge works its way into his eyebrows, but he says nothing. Instead, he walks over and kisses me lightly. ‘Hey, how was your day?’ he asks.

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘How was work?’

Kai grunts and dumps his bag on the floor beside my chair. ‘Fine.’

I see Steve’s face flash with mischief as he begins to say, ‘So apparently Riley —,’ but I shoot him a look and he quietens.

‘What?’ Kai asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at the lock screen.

‘Apparently Riley has been reading that same book all day,’ Steve says, throwing in an unconvincing laugh at the end.

‘Not surprising,’ Kai says flatly. I watch as he doesn’t even hide the way he rolls his eyes, then walks off towards his room.

When Kai is gone, Steve catches my eye. We stare at each other for a brief moment, Steve looking as though he wants to say something. He glances worryingly towards Kai’s room, where we can both hear the steady stream of the shower and the dull murmur of Kai’s music. But then he looks away, picks up his bowl and wanders off to his room. I make sure to mark the page I am on, close my book, and bend down to pick up Kai’s forgotten bag. I place Kai’s bag on his bed and straighten his steel capped boots, which he’s left discarded on the floor. The sky outside his window is now eerily dark. The wind has died down, but I can already see a mist of rain growing steadily closer. I move across the room and close the windows, making sure to lock the latch.

I turn back and see Kai’s phone on the bedside table. I stare at it for a moment. It buzzes: three messages pop up.

I look away and walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.