Chapter 4 #2
I cracked up. It was rude as hell but also very true. Grandma had always told me that I’d inherited her love of music but unfortunately also her daughter’s vocal range. Mom apparently also had had my tone-deafness.
“Sorry, not sorry?” I shrugged. “I was really enjoying your shower. It’s pretty by the way.”
This time it was Dylan’s turn to blush. He shifted in his chair. “Yeah. Whatever. It was like that when I bought the place.”
For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was our forks clinking on the dishes. But unlike earlier, it didn’t feel weird. It felt…comfortable?
Right up until he said, “So what’s your plan?”
Immediately, all the weight on my shoulders returned. Plan. Right. I needed one because I was homeless. Carless. What was I going to do? “Ask my boss for more hours?”
“Where do you work?”
“A sandwich shop near my place. My old place that is. Not really sure how I’m going to manage getting there now without my apartment.
Or a car.” I sighed as the food in my stomach roiled.
“Maybe I need to look into shelters first. Find out what place can take me then look for a job near wherever I land.”
All the different facets of my situation twisted around in my mind.
I needed a place to stay but couldn’t afford anything on my own.
I needed a job, but I also needed an address to get the job.
And clothes! All my clothes were currently behind my landlord’s new lock.
Not to mention that I lacked a car to get to any of these pretend destinations.
I wanted to cry.
And then curl up in bed and just…sleep. Despite just waking up, I was already exhausted.
“I think maybe you should put shelters on the back burner.” Dylan tipped his head. “Like I said, I wasn’t using the room for anything important. It’s yours, okay? I was thinking more about your stuff—your clothes, schoolbooks, paints, whatever—what’s your plan to get those?”
I smiled tremulously. “Uh, wait for the landlord to toss them out, and then dumpster dive?”
“Christ, kid.” Dylan muttered something else under his breath that I couldn’t hear.
Probably questioning my intelligence or what he did to deserve to get saddled with me.
Tears pooled in my eyes again, but I’d be damned if I let them fall.
“I’ll help ya, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”
I nodded tightly, my gaze stuck on the puddle of grease under my bacon. Despite his offer, everything felt so insurmountable. How was I going to get through this? What was I going to do?
I tried to hold onto the anger I felt earlier, but Dylan was so nice it was hard to remember why I wasn’t supposed to like him. I knew my dad was pissed at him, but he’d been nothing but amazing with me so far.
I sighed heavily. My head was starting to hurt.
“So is Indy short for something? Was your mom a die-hard Indiana Jones fan?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s short for Indigo. I think she just liked the color. I don’t know. She died when I was two, so I never got the chance to ask her.”
“Damn.” Dylan shook his head. “You got the shittiest luck I’ve ever heard of.”
I snorted. “Tell me about it.”
“Still, it’s a cool name.”
I shrugged and dragged my fork through the puddle of bacon grease, smearing it into what was left of my eggs. Then I spread it toward my ketchup-y potatoes.
“Do you think if we got your transportation figured out, you could catch up on your course load?”
I shook my head. “Not this semester. I’m too far behind. I was hoping to get a deferral so I could hold on to my scholarship, but I haven’t been able to get to the university since my car was repo-ed. I’ve been meaning to call my advisor, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”
“You’re there on a scholarship?”
I hitched a shoulder. “It’s not a full ride or anything, but my tuition is covered.” I sighed and whispered, “or was covered. It’ll probably get canceled since I’ve been MIA.”
“Not on my watch.” A steely look came into Dylan’s eyes. “We’ll add it to the list. Clothes, belongings, school, vehicle, job, apartment. Anything I’m forgetting?”
I shook my head wordlessly.
That list might as well be a mile long with my inability to do anything about it. It was exhausting to even think about, let alone tackle.
“All right.” Dylan clapped his hands softly. “You done there?”
I looked down at my plate and my stomach rolled at the thought of eating any more. I nodded, staring at the glob of ketchup on the side of the plate.
“Great.” Dylan grabbed my plate and scraped his bacon fat onto it. The sound jolted me into action.
“I should do that. You went to all the trouble of cooking for us.” I grabbed the utensils on the table and moved to grab my still full cup of coffee.
“Nah, you’re a guest.” He pulled the silverware out of my hands. “Sit. Drink your coffee. Relax.” He took a pile of dishes to the sink and loaded the dishwasher.
I stared in disbelief for a second. I couldn’t remember a time in my entire life I’d seen a man do dishes. Grandpa had always called it women’s work, and Dad swore he’d get around to it eventually. We would’ve grown a new species of mold if I waited for him to do it. Blech.
But Dylan moved around the kitchen like he was used to doing for himself. It was so weird.
“So is the property management onsite at your apartment, or do we need to go to a building downtown?”
I shook my head slightly. “I don’t really know. There isn’t an office in the building, but there’s a super who lives on the first floor.”
“Sounds like a good place to start. You ready?”
“For uh, what?”
“To go get your stuff.”
“But I don’t have enough to cover the back rent. Dad, uh, my dad was a few months behind apparently.”
Dylan gave me a determined look. “We don’t need enough to cover whatever months you’re behind. We just need enough to grease a palm and get inside.”
My mind raced as I mentally calculated what was left in my measly checking account.
“You’re thinking too much.” Dylan tapped the countertop in front of him then pushed away. “In my experience, that always leads to trouble. Come on. We’ll figure it out as we go.”
Somehow, his little speech didn’t fill me with confidence. ‘Figure it out as we go’ is how I ended up in this situation in the first place.