Chapter 12 Larissa
LARISSA
I turned off the shower and heard voices from outside the bathroom. Mom was laughing. A man was here.
Phil. It had to be.
I rolled my eyes and wrapped my hair in a towel.
She’d gone out with him a few times now, but he’d never come in. I did not like this development.
I just got home from my side jobs. It was after nine. I wanted to make some dinner and watch TV in my living room and now he was out there.
The bathroom was too steamy and the fan didn’t work because of course it didn’t. I usually cracked the door while I got ready to cool the room down, but I couldn’t with him in the apartment. I slapped lotion on my legs, irritated.
I couldn’t understand what she saw in him. By all accounts he was unemployed. He wasn’t attractive, he wasn’t even funny. They never were.
This was one of the things I liked about Mike, he was the polar opposite of the men Mom dated. Mike didn’t want anything from me. He had no bad habits, had his life together.
Mom cracked up again, louder this time. I grabbed my earbuds, a second away from putting them in, when I heard Mike’s booming laugh. My mood changed instantly.
I wrapped a robe around me, put on my slippers, and opened the door.
My boyfriend was in the kitchen, crouched on the floor petting Woofarine. Phil was nowhere in sight.
“There she is,” Mom said from her seat at the table.
Mike looked past her and beamed at me. “Hey, babe.”
I smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“Nancy says you’ve got a leak.” He nodded at the sink, the doors of the cabinets already open.
“Our landlord is a POS,” Mom said. “I’ve been leaving him messages for weeks.”
“You don’t need that guy. I got it,” Mike said, winking. He grinned at my thin pink silk robe and bounced his eyebrows at me. “I should come unannounced more often.”
“Oh, haha.” I smiled.
He stood to give me a quick kiss. Gentle, a thumb on my chin. When he was done, he smiled at me softly.
“I hope you don’t mind me coming over,” he whispered. “I don’t want you getting mold.”
“Thank you.”
Mom gave me a conspiratorial grin from behind him, like she’d orchestrated this entire situation on purpose. At least this time she’d texted someone appropriate.
“Mike brought us flowers,” Mom said, nodding to two mixed bouquets on the counter.
I smiled up at my boyfriend. “Awwww.”
“I’m gonna get back to the sink,” he said.
“And I’m gonna have a smoke,” Mom said, standing. “Better get dressed. I bet this strong hunk of a man wants to take us to dinner.” She nudged me with her elbow on the way out, Woofarine following her.
Mike scooted back under the pipes and I leaned in the kitchen entry to watch him work.
He had his tools splayed out next to him.
He was still in his gym clothes. Joggers and a T-shirt, green to match his eyes.
Clean-shaven with his sandy-blond hair just a little messy, like he’d been running. He looked handsome.
I hadn’t talked to him after our phone call earlier when he told me he loved me. I’d been sort of dreading seeing him because I still didn’t know what to say. But this helped. Eased us back into things without it being weird.
Maybe that’s why he came.
I watched him grab a tool I didn’t recognize and go back under. I knew the plumbing was just an on-call thing for him at the moment, but I loved that he did it.
Normally a guy working part-time would be a red flag for me, but I could see what Mike was capable of doing if he needed to.
What he would do one day when Tony was ready to give him the business.
I liked that for now he was just enjoying his life.
He liked being at the gym and it was fun for him.
I don’t think he needed much more than that and anyway, he could always go work for Tony if he did.
What was the point in demanding that he work himself to exhaustion just for the sake of it?
God knows I wish I didn’t have to. Rest always felt like something I had to earn.
Like I could only have it if I did enough to deserve it.
He was lucky. He didn’t have rent to pay, no student loans.
It was just his truck payment and his phone bill.
He probably saved most of what he made so he could buy a place of his own when he was ready. No rush.
Mike didn’t have to dig himself out from under the weight of poverty.
I was so tired of digging. I was tired of being dumped on too.
From the corner of my eye, I saw something move. A silverfish darted out from under the fridge. I gasped quietly and stepped on it in my slippers before it could vanish again. I glanced at my boyfriend. He was under the sink, he didn’t notice.
Heat crept up my cheeks. This place was embarrassing with its ugly, flattened brown shag, old mismatched furniture from yard sales, the faint smell of cigarettes.
If I’d known he was coming, I would have burned a candle or hung one of the nicer kitchen towels instead of the faded threadbare rooster one on the stove. Our place was clean, it was just… not something I was proud of.
Mike’s was the total opposite. The whole house was new.
Granite counters, wood floors, beautiful furniture, tons of natural light.
He had expensive hand soap in his bathroom.
I’d never seen the brand before, so I googled it.
It was a forty-three-dollar bottle from Neiman Marcus.
Forty-three dollars. That was my entire day’s worth of tips at Donna’s.
Me, waiting on cranky old men and rude teenagers and creepy guys who flirted with me, wasted on a single bottle of soap.
He got it from his mom’s house. He didn’t have to make the tiny critical financial decisions I had to make on a daily basis just to be able to live.
He just got to casually shop from his mom’s pantry, wash his hands with soap that would bankrupt me.
And when it ran low, he wouldn’t fill it with water like Mom and I did to get every last drop, he’d just toss the bottle and get another one.
He wouldn’t even realize the weight of that single act of privilege.
He got to be blissfully ignorant. I envied that so much.
I don’t think I’d ever be a toss-the-bottle person.
Once the soapy water ran out, I’d fill it with the cheap stuff so I could keep the expensive bottle.
I wouldn’t be able to justify paying more for something so unimportant.
I don’t think money would ever change who this world had made me.
I would like the chance for it to try though.
“All done,” he said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
He scooted out from under the sink, stood, and ran the faucet. “No more leak.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
He shut the water off. “Always,” he said, beaming at me.
“So when Tony retires, are you going to be the one on the billboards?” I asked.
He dried his hands on the rooster towel and looked around the kitchen. “The king bit isn’t really my thing,” he said.
“No? So a rebrand, then? The Toilet Prince?” I teased.
He laughed, but there was something tight about it. Then he peered into the living room to make sure Mom was still outside.
“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about earlier…” he said, his voice low.
I shifted on my feet. “Oh. Yeah I just—”
He put a hand up. “You don’t have to say anything. I put you on the spot. I’m sorry.”
I licked my lips. “I just move a lot slower, I think? I just need more time.”
“That’s totally fine,” he said. “I get it. I don’t want to rush you. Don’t even think about it, okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He leaned in again and gave me another soft kiss.
Then the sliding glass door opened and shut, and Mom came back in. “So where you taking us to eat, Mike?” she asked, doing her body splash spritz.
“Wherever you ladies want to go,” he said.
“There’s that steak place over in Arbor Lakes,” Mom said. “They got wine flights. No nuts on the menu. I already called.”
I shook my head. “Mom, that place is really pricey…”
“He said wherever we want to go.”
“What about burgers?” Mike said. “Jesse mentioned Smashburger earlier and it sounded good.”
Mom made a face. “Smash burgers? They’ve got wagyu burgers at the steak place. Better.”
“I mean, it’s almost nine thirty,” he said. “You think they’re open this late?”
“They close at eleven,” Mom said.
Mike nodded. “Okay. Sure. Let me just, uh, clean up my tools.”
“Mike, are you positive?” I asked. “It’s really fancy.”
“I got it, babe.” He winked at me.
I went to get dressed and when I came out, my boyfriend took us to eat.
The place was so expensive, I felt bad. I wondered if Mike knew that when he said yes.
I mean, I told him but maybe he didn’t know it was going to be this bad?
It was the kind of restaurant that people went to for special occasions.
A floor-to-ceiling wine cellar in the middle of the room, dim lights and black booths, servers in elegant button-up shirts.
I wasn’t even dressed right to be there, none of us were.
While we waited to be seated, I whispered to him that we could go somewhere else but he insisted.
When we were looking at the menu, he kept saying I should order whatever I wanted.
What I wanted was the rib eye and a mojito, but I ordered the chicken and a glass of water instead because it was a third of the price—and even that was too much.
Mom, on the other hand, did order whatever she wanted.
She got a filet and half the appetizers on the menu.
I was so embarrassed. I tried to stop her, but Mike kept insisting it was fine.
He picked at the appetizers and only ordered old-fashioneds.
Mom got two desserts and a coffee at the end.
When the bill came, he wouldn’t let me see it.
And when he paid, his card was declined.