Chapter 7 #2
I dash up the steep, rickety, wooden stairs, barely registering that Teddy’s calling out behind me.
“Wait,” he says. “Don’t go in there.” But it’s too late.
The front door stands wide open, and I’m already inside.
I skid to a stop just past the threshold and take in the living room.
It looks like a tornado hit. Couch cushions are on the floor.
A table lamp, still turned on, is knocked over.
Red solo cups litter every visible surface, most still filled with various liquids.
Beer that’s gone flat and brightly colored cocktails.
I can smell the vodka and tequila from where I stand.
A large glass bong sits on an end table next to a red zippo lighter, which explains the lingering scent of weed that permeates the house.
My head snaps up when I hear the sound of laughter coming from farther inside. I move toward it, in a shocked daze. I went to a couple of frat parties when I was in college, but the wreckage I’m seeing here puts them to shame.
I don’t pay much attention to the trail of clothing that’s scattered on the floor like breadcrumbs, leading me deeper into the house.
It’s not until I see the lacey black thong on the floor in front of a closed door that I freeze in place.
The sounds of laughter and loud lovemaking come from the other side.
Whoever is in there must be having a good time because a female voice is crying out, “Oh God. Oh God. OH GOD,” over and over, with the volume increasing each time.
Right before she climaxes, I flee, racing through the wrecked living room so fast it passes by in a blur. I barrel out of the house, down the stairs, and back to Teddy.
He sits with his head in his hands but looks up as I approach. “What happened?” A worried frown appears between his eyes as he takes in how I wring my hands and hop from foot to foot.
“It looked like they hadn’t gotten a chance to clean up from that party you were telling me about,” I confess, deliberately leaving out the part about the couple having sex.
He squeezes his eyes shut, not looking at me. “If it’s a mess in there, it was probably left over from last night. We have parties almost every night.”
“Oh.” I’m not sure what to say to that.
Teddy stares at the ground, his body caved in on itself in a defeated way that makes me suddenly, irrationally irate. I square my shoulders and glare back at the now-quiet house, as if it’s to blame for his misery.
“You can’t stay here.”
Slowly, he looks up at me, raising his hand to shade his eyes from the sun overhead. “Huh?”
“It won’t work. Look at those stairs.” I jab my finger at them. “They’re way too steep for you to get up and down with your crutches.”
He can’t really argue. Those things are a death trap even for someone with two working legs.
Teddy blows out a breath, his eyes on the crooked house behind me. “It’ll be fine,” he mutters. “I’ll stay in my room.”
“And what?” I raise an eyebrow, hands on my hips. “Live on spilled tequila and stale bong water?”
Silence. He has no answer for that.
Sensing victory, I press my point. “What are you going to do, Teddy? How are you going to eat? To heal? You need to sleep. To recover and, no offense, but that place,” I point at the house. “That doesn’t seem restful.”
He blinks at me. “No. I don’t—” He stops, his jaw working. “I don’t need charity, Helen.” His voice is sharp, pride cutting through his exhaustion. “I can figure it out.”
“It’s not charity. It’s practical.” I cross my arms. “You can’t climb those stairs. You can’t sleep through those parties. You’ll never heal here.”
Teddy grimaces, dropping his head to stare at the ground. “Fair point. Besides, tomorrow is Halloween.”
“Yeah?” I ask, uncertain why he’s bringing it up.
Teddy looks up at me, and my heart pinches at the shadows under his eyes. I wasn’t kidding when I said he needs rest.
“That’s our biggest party, Halloween. It’s a tradition.”
“Oh.” Disappointment stirs. “You want to go?”
Teddy’s shoulders heave in a deep sigh. “Honestly? No. I’ve kinda been dreading it even before all this happened.” He waves a hand over his broken leg. “This is where I live, though. I don’t have anywhere else.”
“You’ll come home with me,” I declare, ignoring the part of my brain that’s screaming this is a terrible idea. It’s not the first time that little voice has spoken out against Teddy, but I ignored it back at Gwen’s wedding and I ignore it now.
I continue, “I’ve been looking for a roommate.” I haven’t. “I need help with the rent.” I don’t. “It gets lonely sometimes, being by myself.” That part is true.
Teddy narrows his eyes at me, like he can sense the bullshit I’m shoveling. “You seem awfully independent and, unless it’s a mansion you’re living in, I doubt you have problems affording it.”
“It’s a condo in Santa Monica,” I counter.
“Oookaaay.” He draws the word out, then concedes, “That is expensive. Maybe you do need a roommate, but it shouldn’t be me.”
“Why not?” I bite my lower lip, worried he’ll mention what happened between us at his sister’s wedding, but that’s not the direction he goes.
“Because I can’t afford it. All the money I’ve got coming in is from that disability insurance.”
“Perfect,” I declare. “I’ll take that as rent.”
“You don’t even know how much it is.”
“It’ll be enough.” I put my hand out to him. “Look, Teddy, I promised your sister I’d help you, and that’s what I’m going to do. I don’t think either of us wants to call Gwen and tell her you’re out on the street. You know she’ll swoop in to save you with her movie-star husband in tow.”
He blanches at that, and I know I’m on the right track. “Stay with me, just until you’re back on your feet. A couple of months and they’ll take that cast off for good. Two months. That’s all you’ll have to spend at my place. After that, you can come back here or move anywhere you want.”
He still doesn’t take my hand. I keep it outstretched and inch closer. “Two months, Teddy. That’s all. I’m gone most of the time working, so it’ll almost be like you have the condo to yourself.”
I’m not sure what makes him accept, probably reassurance that he won’t have to spend much time with me, but whatever it is, Teddy reaches for me. He lifts his hand and grabs mine. With him pushing and me pulling, we get him onto his feet.
Before he gets back into my car, Teddy stops with one hand on the door, staring back at the house like he’s really seeing it for the first time. The dead lawn, more weeds than grass. The rust-stained door frame. The downstairs window with spiderwebs-like cracks spread across its surface.
Still, he hesitates, shifting on his crutches. Teddy turns to me, his expression uncertain, doubt flickering behind his eyes. “You’re sure?” he asks quietly. “You won’t regret this?”
Regret is an interesting word choice, like maybe he’s asking about more than just moving in—or maybe I’m overthinking as usual.
I meet his eyes and give him a reassuring smile that’s only half fake. “I’m sure.”
I reach out to take his crutches so he can get in the car.
There’s a long moment when he stares at my offered hand, like he’s debating if it’s better to fall than to risk taking this step.
His eyes flick between me and the house, his jaw working like he wants to say something.
Instead, he exhales through his nose, tightens his grip on the door handle, and passes the crutches over.
Without a word, he folds his body into my backseat.
I drive us home, all the while telling myself this will be fine. It has to be fine.
Right?