Hazy Days

"Victoria, babe, have you seen my coat?" I keep my gaze on the road below. The view from the balcony really is shit, but the lights from buildings and street lamps almost look pretty in the dark. The snow hasn't completely melted yet, but I couldn't stay inside. I just can't.

"Are you fucking deaf?" Joel slaps the back of my head. "I asked where my goddamn coat is."

"I haven't seen your coat," I mutter. I flick the ash from my cigarette over the railing. Joel grabs my wrist and pushes me against the wall so my forehead scrapes against the concrete.

"I don't have time for this shit," he hisses into my ear. "I can easily get six hundred bucks off the shit Jones gave me, and do you know where it is? It's in the pockets of my fucking coat." He shoves me harder and my teeth clamp down so hard on my tongue I taste blood. I reach behind me and feel his cheek, digging my fingernails into his flesh. "Goddammit, Vic!" We fight like this for a while, but are careful to stay quiet so no one would call the cops. It happened once, months ago, and they held Joel for the night.

"Joel," I say once I've had enough. My voice always seem to be cracking these days. "I know where your coat is. I'll go get it." He takes his hands off his neck and runs them through his hair.

"Why didn't you tell me that before? You know how much time I've wasted? Look at me, Victoria, goddammit." I look everywhere but at him. Two boys are on the street below, looking up at us. I wave at them and they walk away. Joel shoves me again and goes back inside. I do, too, after a second.

"It's right here," I grab his jacket from the bathtub and throw it at him. He catches it with a look of confusion.

"Why was-?"

"That's where you fell asleep last night," I murmur. He shrugs his coat on and I sit on the couch. Scout jumps onto my lap and snorts contently.

"I swear, you love that dog more than me," Joel takes his keys from the counter and under the kitchen light, I can see the extent of our fighting: hair messed up, fingernail marks that drew blood on the side of his face near his eyes, and a deep indentation from where I bit the back of his hand. I sigh and pick up Scout, who does not like Joel too much and curls his lips back as I stand in front of him. I run a towel under the faucet and motion him to come closer.

"Okay... you're good," I wipe away the specks of blood on his face. He pecks my lips and starts for the door.

"Thanks, babe. See ya," he slams the door behind him.