Chapter 2 #3
“I have to get rid of all these,” he commented as he avoided one.
“My neighbor flips them. I don’t mean he has accidents when he rides.
He buys ‘em, fixes ‘em, and sells ‘em. But his wife was about to kill him over having so much junk in their house, because he also refurbishes cell phones and other shit, so he rented out my garage. I don’t want him to keep using it when I’m not here. Ready?”
He lifted me off his shoulder and set me on the floor inside.
I stood on one foot, catching my breath, and checked out his kitchen.
It was similar to my grandma’s old house, with yellow countertops that looked like plastic and wallpaper with large yellow blooms. I liked it, because it was cute in a retro way and also because it reminded me of her. I had liked her, too.
“I’ll make dinner,” he said. My stomach flipped and I tightened my grip on the OJ bottle. “You want to, uh, bathe?”
I did. I really did. He showed me the way to the bathroom, walking slowly so that I could hop along behind him, and it wasn’t very far since this was a small house.
It was about the same size as Damian’s condo—not the mansion he’d rented in Calabasas, where we’d celebrated the release of his new album, but the actual place he’d lived with his parents in El Monte.
I had only been there once, when Millie had sent me over to pick up a bracelet that he’d left behind by mistake.
She’d told me not to talk about it, not to anyone.
This bathroom also reminded me of my grandma’s house, with its almond-colored tile, bright blue sink, and flowered wallpaper (this one featured turquoise and brown daisies).
It had running water—kind of trickling, but hot when it came out of the showerhead.
I fit under that perfectly, but I wondered how Callum could have used it.
His shoulders must have stretched from the almond tile out past the plastic curtain.
He also must have had to bend at the waist to wash his hair because he was quite a bit taller than I was, especially if I only wore my hotel slippers.
I didn’t usually wear very high heels because Damian didn’t like us to look too big next to him since he was a little guy (except Millie had said not to call him little because he didn’t like that, either).
I guessed that Callum was six-five or -six and again, that was probably great for football.
But it would have been a real pain in the ass when he was trying to shower in this bathroom.
It was perfect for me, though. I stood under the water, enjoying it greatly, until I realized that I shouldn’t have been using so much.
He didn’t have a lot in terms of products, just a generic shampoo (no conditioner) and a bar of soap that had seen better days.
I scrubbed my body and washed my hair twice before I stepped out onto the carpet floor.
After a moment, I heard his footsteps. “Rainey?” he asked me through the door.
“Yes?”
“I got a towel for you. I don’t have too many and this this one is…
it should be ok. I put a shirt out here, too,” he said.
I heard him walk away and I heard some noise in the yellow kitchen, and then I opened the door to see what he’d left.
There was a brown rag hanging on the doorknob on the opposite side of the hall, and there was an orange T-shirt on the floor.
I grabbed both of them, dried off, and rebandaged my foot as best as I could.
It had bled more in the shower and the wraps he’d given me that morning weren’t in the best shape anymore, but they still had some use left in them.
The orange T-shirt said “WOODSMEN” across the chest and it was the biggest item of clothing that I’d ever had on my body, like an XXXL.
This was the team he’d talked about, the one he was going to try out for in Michigan.
It wasn’t a great color on me, despite the olive tone I had in my skin.
I considered myself neutral or cool and this shade of orange just wasn’t it.
The shirt was a big step up from my gold dress, though.
That had started to unravel around the bottom when I’d rinsed it out and it had shrunk in and twisted up.
I had hung it over the shower curtain bar and it looked like a threadbare gold washcloth.
I had rinsed out my hotel slippers, too, and I left them leaning against the inside of the tub to drain.
Now I finger-combed my hair, since I didn’t see any styling implements anywhere, and then I hopped out into the hallway.
The bathroom didn’t have a fan so it was very steamy, but I’d had the mirror all to myself. I hadn’t needed to fight anyone for it.
I walked into the kitchen. “Hi,” I said. “Thanks for the shirt.”
He glanced over at me. “Looks better on you than it did on me.”
“Thanks,” I said again, but I had to think that this would be a nicer shade on him with the warmth of his skin, his brown eyes, and his dark hair and beard. It wouldn’t have washed him out. “It’s very bright.”
“That’s Woodsmen orange,” he said. “I hope I’ll be wearing a lot of that color. Are you hungry?”
By that point, I was feeling dizzy enough that I had to hold on to the counter and it wasn’t due to thirst, since I’d drunk so much water in the shower. I nodded and hopped to the kitchen table.
Callum looked at my foot. “That’s not good,” he commented. “We should wrap it up better.”
“I will. I washed the cloths you gave me before.” I had used one and left the rest hanging next to the gold dress and my underwear.
“I have a whole medical kit from years ago. I’ve been finding all kinds of crap as I clean up to move.”
“Whose house is this?” I asked as I sat.
“It used to belong to my grandparents,” he answered.
“I was going to try to sell it but there’s not much of a market for places in this area.
Maybe I could rent it, to get some income while I’m not earning anything.
I don’t know.” He put a pot on the table.
“Uh, I don’t have any plates. I don’t have another pan or any bowls, either.
It’s just me here, and I’ve been getting rid of a lot of stuff, so… ”
“Do you have an extra fork or are we going to share?”
He had two of those. We both ate pasta out of his pot and it was delicious.
I had so much that my stomach started to hurt and that made me remember that I needed to watch myself, since Damian liked his girls thin.
But it was going to be a while until I saw him again, if I ever did. After all, he had left me.
We didn’t say very much while we inhaled the pasta. But when I put down my fork and wiped my mouth on the paper towel that he’d given me, I voiced what I’d been thinking about Damian and everyone else. “I wish I had my phone. Then I’d have their numbers but I could also find out where they’ll be.”
“How?”