I was feeling like such an asshole. The sight of her crying was etched into my retina and came back each time I blinked.
It was nice and dark in the room and I was lying over the bed covers, looking outside at the tree in the orange light of the street. Jason was lying on the couch quietly, doing something on his phone.
“Do you think she will,” I started, “What do you think she will do?”
“How do you mean?” his gangsta way of speaking was studied and deliberate, as was his every move.
“I mean, is she going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” he put his phone away, “Why wouldn’t she be? It’s gonna be alright.”
“But I mean,” I said, looking at the ceiling, “Do you think she’s going to try to take revenge.”
“Fuck, man. Your Polish accent. No, why would she take revenge? Has a chick ever done that to you after you broke up?”
“No, but,” I didn’t know what to say. I just lay there for a while, Jason got back to his phone. Then I heard a strange noise. “What’s that?” I asked.
“Just a cockroach.”
“Cockroaches make noises in America?”
“It’s not making noises. It’s just chirping.”
“Where I come from, cockroaches don’t chirp. They don’t make any sound. What the fuck is wrong with this fucking country?”