Page 23 of Under His Control

Still, the fact that he’s even willing to consider helping me is worth celebrating. Yesterday, he practically told me to go fuck myself.

What made him change his mind?

Did he feel sympathy for me after he heard my dilemma, or is it because I called him an asshole and he wanted to prove me wrong?

I close my eyes and cringe as I remember the angry words flying out of my mouth.

“Oh god. Why? Why did I say that out loud?”

For one thing, I’m pretty sure I’m the reason for his personality change. I also can’t believe I told him I didn’t need his help anymore.

That was so, so stupid.

There are moments when I’m proud of myself for doing something cool, like the time I figured out a good, quick technique for painting hair. Then there are moments when I wonder how I survived this long despite my many impulsive and unwise choices.

My phone vibrates from inside my bag. I take it out and June’s picture pulses in the centre of the screen. My thumb hovers over the green button to accept her video call.

Wait, the bruise.

If she sees it, she’ll ask questions I don’t want to answer.

I grab my hat from the hook and pull it on. Her face pops into view when I answer the call, and she greets me with a smile that I immediately return. No matter my mood, June’s smiles and laughs are always infectious.

“Happy friendiversary!” she cheers in a sing-song voice.

I laugh as I sink into Jacob’s couch beside the folded sheet and pillow.

“Aw, I totally forgot that’s today!”

“It’s a reverse from last year. I forgot and you reminded me.”

“OK, it’s my turn next year to call you first.” I continue smiling as I think back on the past. “Time flies, huh? Four years ago, a painting brought us together.”

She grins. “And two hundred and fifty dollars.”

We share another laugh then rehash the painting story like if we’re telling it to strangers. It’s our friendiversary tradition.

June and I met at college. I’d wanted to enter an art contest, and my design was a digital painting of a mermaid sitting on a rock jutting out of the ocean. I loved it, but I hated the unoriginal concept, and it was too late to come up with something new.

I was at the campus picnic table about to beat my head against my drawing tablet. June wandered over and started asking me questions about the painting. We chatted like we were already good friends even though we’d just met.

You could make her a human but someone important. Like a queen. People will want to know why a queen is stranded on a rock in the middle of the ocean.

She was taking a jewellery design course and offered me a couple of her designs to use in my painting. I went with her ideas and we submitted the artwork together. The honourable mention we won was nice, but the cash prize was the best part.

My smile dims. “I can’t meet up with you today, though. I’m not in Toronto.”

June peers closer at the screen.

“Where are you? It looks… rustic.”

I struggle to come up with a good answer that isn’t a lie. June suddenly rears back and twists her lips, an unwell look on her face.

I frown, concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I gotta go. The baby didn’t like his daddy’s chicken wrap this time.”

We end the call with quick goodbyes and my mind lingers on her as I relax into the couch. Pregnancy suits June. She’s always been on the petite side, but now her face is fuller and her boobs got bigger too.