Ava,

Thank you for a lovely few days. I’ll come back anytime you want me. Don’t be a stranger or a lurker—I love every second I spend with you.

Yours,

Gemma

Some things aren’t complicated. So hey, there she be. She goes into Ava’s room and leaves the note on the bed.

And then she exits the room and she is going. There is the curtain of red beads; she has to go through it and be done, and then she will move on. She’s only been in Ava’s presence less than a full week, combined. Strange, isn’t it, how nevertheless she would’ve stayed? Her dad said something once, when he remarried so quickly after meeting his new wife: “At a certain age, you understand yourself enough to know when you don’t need more time.” Was that true? Gemma doesn’t like the woman he married, but Gemma also knows, far as she can glean, that her dad is happy.

Gemma really would’ve stayed here. The joke about lesbian U-Hauling isn’t a fucking joke to her. But neither is moving on, and she is good at moving on. She walks soundlessly into the curtain.

“You’re leaving?”

She turns with a start. Olive is wearing that long slip of hers that nearly touches the floor.

“Good morning!” says Gemma. “Yeah, it’s about that time. Bye. It was nice meeting you and all.”

Olive’s face crumples. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Huh? Yes. I mean. Why wouldn’t I be? I told you yesterday, remember?”

“What do you mean yesterday?”

Gemma is at a loss. She stares at Olive for a second, and then blurts, “Are you mad at me?”

Olive does not reply at first, but then she repeats, “You’re serious? You’re leaving?”

Gemma is getting absolutely wigged out. Involuntarily, her eyes shut. “Ava told me yesterday morning that I needed to leave, and this made me sad, but that is fine, and so now I’m leaving, even though that feels like a bummer! You seem very upset! Please tell me why you are upset?!”

“Oh.”

Olive says nothing else. Gemma opens her eyes and Olive is … smiling?! This is all making Gemma feel like she’s about to lose her fucking mind, and she is just about to turn tail and bounce without another word when Olive says, “You don’t remember what happened last night after you two were done fucking, do you?”

Gemma stands there speechless as there’s a knock on the door.

“Hold on,” says Olive.

She opens the door and a man with a tool box sweeps in. “Vent problems with your cooling, hey?”

Olive nods and shows him in, then she says to Gemma, “Let’s talk in my room.” The guy eyeballs Gemma as they go.

The charcoal-grey walls in Olive’s bedroom are undecorated. She has a small TV and stacks of DVDs. A dresser beside the bed, on top of which are picture frames, envelopes from a provincial agency, an electric kettle, and a glass container filled with tea. All her window shades are open and the room faces north. In the foreground, Gemma can see the big trees in the old part of town, and then beyond, the rec centre and the point where houses dissolve into bright yellow canola.