Chapter 5 #2
“How does…he…feel about this?”
“Heath’s a really good guy,” Ginny says. “He’s basically a woman with how well he fits in here with us. None of us ever even think about the fact that he has a penis.”
They both look at my shirt again, then back at my face.
“Who has a fat penis?” Pip asks from behind us.
“Walter,” Ginny and Mabel reply together.
“No, I’ve seen his penis. It’s skinny, but it’s also long. Though that might be the effect of eighty years of gravity.”
“Who’s Walter?” I whisper as Aunt Pip wanders away from us and toward the kitchen. She’s in a long, flowing white nightgown, with her silver hair up in tiny curlers.
“Neighbor,” Ginny whispers back. “He’s in love with Pip. His daughter, Winona, manages our fields.”
“Aunt Pip wears pajamas?” I whisper back.
Ginny nods. “Every night.”
“She’s living her best life,” Mabel murmurs.
Someone knocks on the front door.
Mabel and Ginny look at each other, then at me.
“It’s just a few days,” Ginny says.
“But if you’re not up for it, we’ll find…something else.”
The way Mabel makes the offer tells me it’ll be a couch at best.
Or an air mattress.
I can roll with a lot of things, but my body’s been through a little bit today. And given my current inability to function like an adult, I’d probably pop it.
A couch probably isn’t a good solution either.
I feel seventy instead of two weeks past my thirtieth birthday.
And I probably still would even without all of the excitement of today, given how I was already feeling for having lived in my car on the drive here.
I square my shoulders.
You brought this on yourself, Cricket. Now do the hard things.
“He was very kind this morning, and it’s not like he saw anything the rest of the world hasn’t seen,” I say to my hosts. “Though I probably need to apologize for punching him in the face. And for flashing his daughter?”
“Aunt Pip flashes everyone all the time,” Mabel tells me.
“I do not bash anyone except for Dean,” Pip says.
“Flash.” Mabel points at her own boobs. “You’re a nudist. You flash people.”
Pip fluffs her hair. “I’m not a flutist, but thank you for thinking I could be.”
Mabel doesn’t correct her this time, and instead, looks at me. “You’re sure you’re okay with being in Heath’s basement?” She’s no-nonsense, but she’s also very kind.
“I’m sure.” Ideal? No. But given my other options, I’m grateful that they’re only moving me somewhere else on the property and not kicking me out. My mother would’ve. “And it’s only for a little bit, right?”
Ginny takes my hand and squeezes. “Only for a little bit. And honestly, it’s a cool apartment. Simple but cool. You’ll love it.”
I nod.
Mabel opens the door.
Heath and Lavender are on the front porch.
Heath’s sporting a massive bruise on his right eye and carrying the cat.
Lavender’s carrying the fishing pole.
They both look at my shirt.
I cross my arms over the dick as best I can.
“Thanks for sharing your space,” Mabel says to Heath.
“It won’t be for long,” I say. “I won’t—I won’t be here long.”
He looks at Lavender, then back at me, eyes flat. “All set then?”
“I—yes. I packed in the dark. At home. And I need to order some new clothes.”
“We have a storeroom downstairs with simple clothes and other personal items,” Mabel tells me.
“She’s seen worse,” Ginny murmurs.
Where I expect Heath to grimace or his eyes and mouth to tighten or him to sigh, he merely looks at me again. “You need a minute, or you want to come now?”
I need forty-three years to get over every bit of the past week, today included. “Now’s great. Thank you for your hospitality.”
“Not my house,” he says. “Just where I live. We all take care of each other.”
He’s not thrilled with this arrangement. I can feel it.
Or maybe I’m projecting.
“I’m sorry about your eye,” I tell him.
One large shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Understandable reaction.”
“Can we play the game with the dragon stabbing you again? And cover you in blood?” Lavender asks me.
She’s my favorite part of today.
All wild imagination and complete acceptance of how we met with no obvious lingering trauma from the experience.
“I don’t really like showering right now, so only if it’s imaginary blood,” I reply.
Her eyes light up. “I don’t like showers either!”
I hold out a hand for a high five, remember the rhinestone dick on my shirt, and then also rethink high-fiving over not showering.
“There’s a high probability you’ll love them within the next ten years,” Mabel tells her.
Lavender meows.
Mabel meows back.
Lavender sticks her tongue out.
Mabel sticks her tongue out in return.
“Mabel’s is bigger. She wins,” Ginny announces.
“Grown-ups are so annoying,” Lavender grumbles.
Ginny links her arm in mine. “Let’s go check out your new digs. And then I’ll help you get your luggage moved and your pick of any clothes or anything else you need from what we have downstairs.”
The past week has been a series of unplanned crap that has spiraled so far out of my control that I don’t even know what control is.
Not that I was ever the kind of control freak certain members of my family are, which has presented its own kind of challenges over the years. Or possibly since I was born.
But this?
Moving into Heath’s basement one day into my attempt to heal and process in a safe space?
I am so far away from control that I don’t know what it is anymore.
But this is the option I have.
So this is the option it’ll have to be.