You've Changed by Ian Williams

Author:Ian Williams [Williams, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2025-08-26T00:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER

Gluten tried to persuade me to run with the group early Wednesday morning. I wasn’t up to it. I would just have some breakfast and go to Viv’s house.

I got sausage, he texted.

My emoji rolled its eyes.

I got buns, he texted.

My emoji slapped its forehead.

What? U cutting out gluten?

In the end, I went running, if only to prove that I was cool, chill, not pining away or avoidant, and the one-time thing didn’t bother me.

He didn’t really acknowledge me. He was wearing a weighted vest over his yellow jersey and ran a steady, disciplined pace beside a fit, older man. They chatted occasionally.

He seems subdued today, Viv said.

Yet when I looked at him, his legs seemed to be moving twice as fast as everyone else’s, like a man running outside the window of an airplane in a movie.

He’s not blasting EDM, I said.

No, something else. She gave a mock gasp. Maybe this is what he’s like when he’s not high.

I shrugged. I don’t really know the guy.

We talked about Casper then I turned the conversation to natural materials, achieving the right balance of wood and stone, in her yard. She didn’t want a lawn at all. Of course, I longed to discuss landscaping with Gluten, to ask about alternatives to emerald cedars, but I did not really want his advice. I wanted his admiration. Look at the scale and quality of my work. But Maine reprimanded me. Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.

Afterward, I sat in Becky and checked my phone until the group dispersed from the coffeeshop near his building. I could identify his apartment from the plants overflowing his balcony. The fact that he ignored me was confusing and thrilling. I turned on the ignition. Just then, he rapped loudly on the passenger window and motioned me out.

In his apartment, he fed me cheese before I even removed my shoes then that reminded him of sourdough bread which reminded him of a chutney spread in his fridge. Then he got excited about a celery juice regimen he saw online, then he mixed a protein shake and had me drink mouthfuls of the mud, then came scrambled eggs, sausage, as promised, and an assortment of meats, and finally half a cantaloupe and more lemon loaf.

By the end, I had eaten so much that I could not concentrate on what he was saying. I had to lie down for a minute. I heard the budgies chirping. Pamplemousse was clawing at the balcony door. Not dead yet, I thought, and slipped under. While I dozed, he knelt beside the couch, leaned close to my face, and kissed me on the neck. He cupped my chest. I shifted and he withdrew his hand. A few minutes later, he reached into my pants. I was delirious. I pretended oblivion.

When I woke up, officially, he was sitting on the floor, trimming his toenails, and watching a video of lambs frolicking in a pasture. The budgies in their cage sounded jittery.

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