3. Henry #3
By the time I get back to my apartment, I’m exhausted and a little sad.
Last night, I had dinner with a new friend and met a man who provoked a very unexpected reaction from me.
Tonight, the only plans I have are a bowl of ramen and the hope that my upstairs neighbors haven’t decided to finally change the password on their Wi-Fi.
Closing the front door behind me, I twist all of my locks into place, then exhale wearily. Normally, I don’t mind being alone, but tonight the silence of my tiny, empty apartment seems to echo through me, reminding me over and over again of just how isolated from the outside world I’ve made myself.
If I had a TV, I’d put it on just to fill the silence of my loneliness, but electronics are expensive, and so is cable.
I have an old laptop my guidance counselor gave me to make sure I could finish school, but it’s laggy and not super reliable, even if the screen is bigger than the one on my cell phone.
When my upstairs neighbors on the third floor moved in, they had a family emergency and needed someone to take care of their cat. They put a note up on the small notice board in the lobby asking for help and offering to pay someone to feed and check on it for them.
I marched straight up the stairs and told them I could help.
Fluffkins the cat is adorable. He’s an old, sleepy tabby cat who is more than content to spend an hour a night curled up on my lap.
In exchange for me checking the cat in the morning then spending a little time with him in the evening, they paid me twenty bucks a day and told me I was welcome to use the Wi-Fi and the TV while I was there.
They were out of town for five days, so I made a hundred bucks, spent an hour a night watching TV, and connected my cell to their Wi-Fi.
On the first day, I realized that their Wi- Fi connection stretches all the way to the basement.
Since then, my cell automatically connects to their router every time I come home, and even though it’s been well over two years, they don’t seem to have noticed that I’m still using it.
I know it’s dishonest, but I make sure not to take advantage.
I don’t use a lot of data and usually only allow myself an hour watching YouTube before I go to bed.
I don’t know if they know and just don’t care, or if they have no idea, but either way, I do my best to help them if they ever need it.
I take in packages for them if I’m home and always say yes if they need someone to help with the cat.
Undressing, I fold my dirty clothes into the laundry bag and take a quick, surprisingly warm shower, then get dressed into a clean pair of fleece pajamas. Turning on the hotplate, I make ramen in a pan and wish for the thousandth time that I had a microwave.
Taking my bowl to the bed, I climb beneath the covers and open up YouTube, scrolling until I find a clip of the firefighter show I love. There are never full episodes, but there are always videos of the best bits, and I sigh happily as the team rushes into a burning building to save a kid.
When my ramen is gone, I wash the pan and my dish in my tiny sink and put everything back into the cabinet, then grab a glass of water and climb back into bed. When I turn off my cell, I close my eyes and don’t even try to fight the dreams that I already know will come.
Just like the day before, I wake up coated in sweat and hard as a rock. My dreams weren’t as vivid as the previous night, but even the bits and pieces I can recall make my dick drip precum as I remember them.
Anders’s fingers in my hair, pushing my lips down onto his cock and guiding my movements as he calls me his good boy and demands I swallow everything he gives me. Anders pounding into me, with my face in the mattress, my ass high in the air.
Anders holding me to him, my cheek pressed against his beating heart.
Anders, Anders, Anders.
The pictures my subconscious has created are fuzzy and blurred at the edges. But even though I’m now awake, I can still remember the way it felt to have his hands on me and the comfort and security I felt in his arms.
My fingers itch with the need to push my hand into my pants and fist my dick, but I clamp down the urge, determined not to indulge my fantasy any more than I have to.
I can’t stop myself from dreaming about him, but I can stop myself from jerking off over a man that I might have to see again in real life.
Stripping, I take another shower, not bothering to try to get warm water and instead using the torrent of freezing cold liquid to sluice the desire from my body.
One of the foster families I lived with insisted that all of the boys take a cold shower every morning to “purge the devil from our bodies.” And although that family was crazy, a cold shower is an effective cure for morning wood.
Once I’m clean, I get dressed in black jeans and a white T-shirt with a plaid flannel shirt over the top. Making myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, I sigh wistfully when I remember I ate my last apple yesterday, then grab my bag and rush out the door to catch my bus to work.
Once I’m on the sidewalk, I hoist my backpack onto my shoulders and inhale sharply. The crisp morning air is cold but refreshing, and by the time I climb onto my bus to Rockhead Point, I’m feeling calm and almost centered.
The rest of the day passes just like every other day did before I met Anders.
I eat my lunch alone at my desk, the same way I’ve done since I started working at the garage, and even though it’s fine and normal, I realize I hate it.
When six p.m. rolls around, Parker and I leave together, but I’m not brave enough to invite her to dinner, and she tells me goodbye and heads to her car.
A part of me wishes I’d asked her to get a drink, or hang out, or do something that friends do together, but fear of rejection, worry about money, and the possibility that I might see Anders again kept me silent.
I get to work a few minutes early the next day, and I’m just settling into my desk when the door from the shop opens, and Parker steps inside.
“Morning,” she says, her eyes red, her posture tense.
“Good morning,” I say, running my gaze over her to check for some obvious cause of distress. “What happened?”
“I didn’t sleep very well,” she says, forcing a smile to her trembling lips.
Inhaling sharply, my mind runs through all of the awful things that could have happened to her, but I don’t ask, because my messed-up history isn’t hers. “You’re not a good liar,” I tell her, trying and probably failing to hide my concern.
“Fine, I didn’t sleep at all,” she confesses.
This has to be about Danny, and my mind instantly jumps to the worst possible conclusion. “What did he do?”
“Who?”
“Danny. What did he do? Did he hurt you?”
Her eyes go wide and slightly horrified. “What? God, no, nothing like that,” she rushes to assure me.
My whole body sags with relief. “Oh, thank God,” I blurt, so glad that my fucked-up past isn’t my new friends present. “So, if he didn’t hurt you, what did he do?”
“Nothing. I should get to work,” she says, avoiding answering my question.
Pushing out of my chair, I round my desk and cautiously pull her in for a hug. I have no idea if this is the right thing to do, but in my worst moments, I know a hug would have made me feel better. “I know we just met, but I’m here for you,” I whisper against her ear.
Without even a moment’s pause, Parker lifts her arms and hugs me back, holding me so tightly it hurts. But I don’t ask her to stop, because this is the best hug of my life.
“Oh, honey,” I coo, tightening my own grip, until the office shrinks to just me and my new friend, and the comfort we’re offering each other.
I don’t know if this means to her what it means to me, but I feel like this just cemented something between us.
We’re friends, actual friends who care for the other and want them to be happy and okay.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had that, and I’m once again overwhelmingly grateful that this girl has come into my life.
“Is everything okay?” Penn asks.
Startled, I jump away from Parker like Penn has caught us doing something wrong.
“We’re fine. Just bonding,” Parker says, mouthing “Thank you” to me before she turns around to face our boss. “Do we have a busy day planned?” she asks him.
Penn looks stressed, and I brace myself for him to tell me I’m fired or made a huge mistake or something, but he doesn’t even glance in my direction.
“Really busy. But that was Lulu on the phone. Poppy is spiking a temperature, and Lulu thinks she needs to go to the doctor’s office, but Poppy’s asking for me. ”
“Go,” Parker immediately says.
“Bay is at home with the kids because Missy has to?—”
Interrupting him, she shakes her head. “It’s fine. Henry and I will cope. Go be with your baby. She needs you.”
“Thank you,” he says, his shoulders slumping with relief as he glances at me, then back to Parker again. “If she’s feeling better, then I’ll?—”
Parker takes control again. “Penn, it’s fine, this is why you employ us. Go be with your family.”
“Thank you, guys. Any problems, just call,” he says as he turns and sprints from the room.
The rest of the day is the busiest I’ve experienced since I started working at the garage.
With only Parker to handle the two-person workload, I spend my morning calling each client and creating a list to prioritize which job needs to be handled first, depending on how the clients react to the delay.
Parker works tirelessly, finishing one repair and handing off the paperwork before immediately moving straight onto the next.
When six p.m. rolls around, I head into the shop to check on her and find her with her head buried beneath the hood of a car.
“Don’t miss your bus,” she shouts, her attention still on the engine she’s adjusting.
“I’m not leaving, I just wanted to check if you needed anything.”
“No, I’m good,” she calls back.
It’s after nine p.m. by the time I finish creating the last invoice and getting the paperwork for the next day sorted.
“You didn’t have to stay with me,” she tells me, leaning against the break room door, her hair a wild mess.
“And like I said the other ten times you’ve told me that, I’m happy to help. Plus, there’s no way I’d leave you here alone at night,” I tell her, scoffing lightly.
“I’m driving you home,” she announces, pushing off the door and grabbing her bag, while I follow her and do the same.
“You don’t need to do that; I can get the bus or an Uber,” I try to assure her. Obviously, I won’t actually get an Uber, it’d cost me a fortune, but as long as I make it to the stop before ten p.m., I can get the last bus home.
“Or I could drive you,” she says, putting her hands on her hips and staring me down, like she’s daring me to try to argue.
“I don’t want you to have to do the long drive home alone,” I protest, but it sounds weak even to my ears. I hate riding the bus. It’s long and uncomfortable, and honestly most nights, it’s terrifying. The number of times I’ve sat rigid in my seat, frozen with fear, is unbelievable.
“I don’t mind. I enjoy driving, and it’s less than an hour,” she assures me, her expression open and honest.
“I can pay for your gas,” I suggest, silently calculating how many miles it is between here and Bozeman.
“No, you can’t. But you can stop arguing.”
Lifting my hand, I mime zipping my lips, then mouth, “Thank you.”
Her eyes light up, and a warm smile spreads across her face. “Awesome. Let’s go.”
Parker’s car is a beautiful, shiny, old-fashioned thing that looks like it should be in a movie, not parked behind a garage in Montana. The moment we hit the freeway, she puts her foot down and drives like a maniac, treating the roads like her personal racetrack.
As she animatedly regales me with stories about all the filthy things her and Danny are getting up to while they’re sharing a house up on the mountain, her speed increases until she’s going so fast, my fingers go white as I grip the seat and the door so tightly it hurts.
By the time I direct her to my apartment building, I feel a little nauseous.
“This is where you live?” she asks with a squeak, her head moving from side to side as she takes in the run-down buildings and prostitutes openly standing on the street corner beside the guy who sells drugs.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I try to assure her, heat filling my cheeks, because it is exactly as bad as it looks.
“I’m sure your place is great, but this doesn’t seem like that safe an area,” she says quickly, like she’s worried she’s offending me.
“It’s not the best area, but it’s what I can afford, and I’ve lived here for years, so I’m practically a local. It’s fine,” I tell her with a shrug, embarrassed at how obvious it is that I’m dirt poor.
“You should accept the job from the Barnetts. You can move in with me and Danny, we have a spare room,” she blurts, her tone excited.
“I don’t think getting in the middle of your relationship would be a great idea right now.” I laugh.
“Take the job, move in with us, then we can commute to work together and you won’t have to worry about crazy rent or long bus rides.”
A warmth suffuses me. I really did make a friend. A great friend from what I’ve seen so far. “Thank you for the ride, Parker,” I tell her, not agreeing to her crazy plan, but more grateful than she will ever know for the offer.
“Think about it, I’m serious,” she calls as I climb out of the car. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Have fun tonight,” I call back with a smirk, closing the door and rushing to my apartment building. The moment I’m inside, I listen as she drives away.
Instead of my dreams being plagued with dirty thoughts about Anders, they’re filled with the hopeless possibility of moving to Rockhead Point and living with Parker. It’s all a pipe dream, but when I wake up, I’m smiling.