Chapter 7 #2
I anticipated that one week in that basement would be enough for Barry to decide that he would indeed be better off at his place. Just one week. Or maybe he would hate living with me. I didn’t know what sort of infuriating habits I’d developed in my years of living alone. Probably many.
I swung open the old door and chewed on my lower lip while Barry assessed it.
The room was clean, with a twin-sized bed and a nightstand.
There wasn’t a closet, but there was a rack with hangers and a dresser that squeaked when you pulled out the drawer.
My plan with the room was to gut it, along with the small bathroom attached.
The ceilings were lower than they could be, and standing in there with Barry, the room felt even smaller.
Looking at it now, it looked every bit as pitiful as I feared.
“No way is this going to work,” I said on an exhale. Barry frowned and dipped his head side to side like it wasn’t so bad. “See, you should stay at your place. Maybe when the guest room is done, but until then you don’t want to stay in this…cell.”
“It looks great,” he said, and sat his massive frame on the side of the twin-sized bed that I knew would be too small for him. The bed squeaked under his weight, and I tried not to face-palm.
If by great he meant condemnable, then yes, it looked terrific.
“I would say you could try the futon in the couch, but it’s shorter than this bed and somehow just as squeaky.”
“I think the bed’s nice,” he said, lying his ass off. He bounced on the mattress, squeaking more. “I brought a blow-up mattress too.”
“Smart.” I wouldn’t want to sleep that close to the old carpet, but I didn’t say so. It had a vague smell if you got too close.
Maybe if we got him a rug it would be okay.
“Is that the bathroom?”
I nodded and followed him into the tiny space. There was a short, old toilet, a standing sink, and a shower stall with a head that went probably a few inches above Barry’s nipples. He stepped inside and after a silent beat, we both laughed at the absurdity of the image.
“You can use the upstairs shower, though it’s not all that much better. Still a work in progress.”
Barry looked around the bathroom and bedroom again. “It’s perfect.”
I snorted and shook my head. “If you say so.”
“Where is the laundry?” he asked when we got back upstairs.
“Ah” I traded my house slippers for the Crocs by the back door. “I’d like to build a nice laundry room in the basement one day, but for now it’s in the garage.”
Barry blinked at this news and followed me wordlessly out the back door and down the cracked concrete path to the garage’s side door.
Inside, I patted my palm against the old metal machines up against the insulated wall.
Poorly insulated, I’ll say, because it was cold as hell in there.
I pointed to the shelf above the machines that housed the soaps and dryer sheets.
“Dryer looks old, but it works pretty well. And you can park your car in here if you want. Until I get a new one.”
“Why don’t you have a car?”
“Well, I did, but I sold it last month. I’m saving for a nicer one. Safer.”
“Makes sense,” he said. “What kind do you want?”
“Not sure yet,” I lied. If I could afford a new car, I knew the model I wanted down to the interior customizations. With the renovations, savings goals, and other expenses, I would be purchasing a used car, for sure, probably Ron’s Toyota when he finally got the new one he wanted.
“I have a clicker, though, you can use it if you want.” I shivered and led him back through the yard to the house.
“Backyard is great,” he said, and I couldn’t help but smile.
It really was charming, I had to agree. I loved playing here as a kid, running around playing fairies with Kate, teaching Jeremy how to do a cartwheel, almost breaking my arm on the trampoline that was entirely unsafe but the source of hours of fun.
There was a big tree in the middle of the yard that we had picnics under in the summer and a brick retaining wall where we put rows of mud pies.
“I love it,” I agreed. “Shed in the corner has a lawn mower and stuff.
Back in the kitchen, I stood awkwardly while his eyes scanned the knickknack shelf by the door.
It was making me itchy watching him look at all my stuff.
I had no idea about what he liked, if he thought all my things were kitschy and stupid, or if he found it charming at all.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I made vague gestures to the bathroom before retreating there.
I closed and locked the door to pee and realized this was the first time I’d locked the bathroom door, maybe ever. I didn’t even close it when Kate and Jeremy came over, the three of us continuing our conversations with one of us shouting from the open bathroom.
After a second on the toilet, I turned on the sink.
I pulled out my phone to text Kate.
Hannah
Don’t come over
Barry is here.
Kate
I already made the popcorn
Kate had gotten one of the stove-top popcorn pots for her birthday last year and used it as frequently as she could, always trying new seasonings and things.
Friday Fright Nights were born because of the popcorn machine and were an excuse to watch scary movies every couple of weeks.
Unless Jeremy was coming, in which case we made him watch a movie musical.
Kate
What is he doing? What does he want?
Hannah
Moving in, basically.
He’s staying in murder basement.
Kate
I’m coming over.
Hannah
Don’t
I texted the same text three times, but if I had to guess, she and Greg Sr. were already on their way.
Hannah
I’m serious
Kate didn’t respond, which was message enough that she would not be listening.
Thank God Jeremy was busy tonight, I would have an aneurysm if I had to manage them both around Barry.
The two of them knew every secret of mine, all my most embarrassing traits, and were not afraid to brandish them for the sake of sibling comedy. They’d probably get along with Scotty.
“Hey, have you eaten?” Barry asked through the bathroom door, which made me drop my cell phone onto the linoleum, where it bounced twice.
“Uh, just a sec,” I said. I flushed and turned off the faucet, then turned it back on to wash my hands. I was freshly out of hand soap, so I used the bar from the shower and made a mental note to get more immediately before Barry thought I didn’t wash my hands or something.
As I dried my hands, I heard a knock on the front door, followed by Barry’s heavy steps on his way to open it. Like he already lived here. I knew it was Kate before I even heard her voice, and when I exited the bathroom, there she was, putting on quite the show.
“Oh! I didn’t know anyone else would be here,” Kate said. Greg Senior loped into the room, dragging his rope leash behind him on his way to the dog bed in the corner. “I’m Kate.”
She offered a hand to Barry, who shook it and looked between us.
“You must be Hannah’s sister,” he concluded. “You look alike.”
This was true, at least mostly. Kate was taller than me, five foot ten, and had hair more brown than red which she kept long, water-falling over her shoulders or tucked into a neat braid.
She had this athletic-chic look going on, and a less round face, which my pregnancy had only made more apparent.
Sometimes I wished she’d get a neck tattoo or something so people would be distracted from immediately thinking “just like Hannah, only prettier.”
Though no doubt she’d pull off a neck tattoo just fine. Would look terrific on her.
“Yep,” Kate said. “Nice to finally meet the mystery man who knocked up my sister.”
I think if I committed sororicide, I would be justified. At some point when I was in the bathroom, Barry had pulled off his hoodie to reveal a black tee shirt, also new, with the team’s little raptor logo in the middle of his chest.
“Kate lives nearby,” I explained, then pointed at the dog. “And this is Greg Senior.”
“Great to meet you, Kate and Greg Senior.” Barry padded over to the dog and scratched his head, much like he had Junior. Greg didn’t seem to mind, already snoring lightly.
Kate breezed into the kitchen to set up the movie night snacks. Popcorn and apple slices. “Barry, are you joining us for movie night? How do you feel about slashers? Monster movies?”
“I didn’t mean to butt in on your plans,” Barry said. “I was actually just about to pick up some dinner and groceries.”
Kate paused at this. Her left eye was probably twitching at the thought of Barry buying me groceries in case he was going to get unpasteurized milk or cheese without knowing pregnant women supposedly weren’t allowed to have it.
Soda, too, but she doesn’t bother me about that if I eat the probiotic yogurts.
“Maybe burritos? I could grab you something, too,” Barry said. Kate thought a moment longer before nodding, because she couldn’t pass up that offer. I nodded, too, because I likewise would never say no to a burrito.
“Bacon with red chili for me, sausage for Kate,” I said, walking with Barry toward the door. I didn’t want to seem like I was ushering him out of the house in a hurry, but I didn’t know how to even begin processing the last half hour, and him being in my space was not helping.
“No cheese on Hannah’s,” Kate called from the kitchen.
Barry looked at me for approval, and I shook my head.
“Please cheese,” I whispered, and he sent a quick thumbs up.
“You got it,” he whispered back, then louder, “Be back soon!”
As soon as the front door closed, Kate and I rushed to the front window. Crouching, we watched as he got into his car parked on the curb, a sharp, deep green crossover.
“Nice car,” Kate said.
“Yeah.”
“He is tall.”
“I know,” I said. “In an almost weird way, right? Like too tall?”
Barry’s car drove down the street and disappeared behind the little adobe church on the corner.