Chapter 8 #2
The only stuff that took up much space – and therefore seemed really out of place – were three boxes of my things.
He’d placed them on the floor at the foot of his bed, evidently having run out of space in the kitchen last night.
This made me feel a bit warm and gooey inside to imagine.
He easily could have left my last few boxes in the wagon, or on the porch.
But instead, he’d taken them into his own room, arranging them as carefully and precisely as he did everything else.
Seriously. The tower of boxes was so perfectly straight that it didn’t even look like three separate boxes at all.
The edges of each one was crisply aligned with the others.
I almost didn’t want to ruin his handiwork by moving and opening them now.
I gave the boxes another moment to bask in their flawless, rigid harmony by turning my attention to the bed.
It was hard to believe that anyone had slept there.
The plain blanket was pulled mercilessly into complete flatness.
Even the pillow looked to have been smoothed out, no indents or other evidence that a head had lain there at all.
Maybe Warden Hallum slept standing up in his closet. Like an Old-Earth horse. Or a shuldu, if that’s what they did. I amused myself with that image for a bit before noticing that the shirt I’d left on his bed was gone. An unexpected bit of pleasure jolted through me. He’d received my gift.
And put it…where?
The shirt had been bright red. It would be easy to spot.
I didn’t see it anywhere. There was a drawer at his desk, but I doubted he’d stuff a shirt in there.
And walking into his room with the purpose of retrieving my boxes was enough.
I wasn’t about to go rooting through his stuff.
If he even had any other stuff. A small voice told me then that the drawer was likely empty.
Maybe he’d thrown my shirt away. Unlike me, it wasn’t like he could actually wear it.
I steeled myself against the deflated disappointment that line of thought brought me. I’d left it in here with no expectations at all as to what he’d do with it. Keep it, toss it. It was up to him.
Squaring my shoulders, I tackled the boxes, carrying them out of his room one by one.
Doing my utmost not to trip and break an ankle, I brought them into my room and opened all three of them, chucking various items of clothing on the bed.
I settled on something cute but comfy, since I’d be cooking and cleaning up all my stuff today.
I got dressed in high-waisted black leggings and a cropped sweatshirt – after the very necessary underwear and bra, of course.
Then, I spent a few minutes clearing a path through the kitchen and hunting through the non-perishable food ingredients I’d brought.
Cans of instant coffee went into empty cupboards, and my bags of rice and little jars of spices and sauces were placed on the counter.
By that point, I was famished, having slept, I was fairly sure, more than twelve hours.
My normal breakfast hour was long passed.
“We are so going to get our brunch on,” I whispered giddily to myself, discovering a trap door in the floor that led down into a cold cellar.
It should have been a little spooky to go down there on my own, but Warden Hallum kept it so scrupulously clean that the vibes ended up being more boring than haunted.
There were no creepy crawlies or dank corners to imagine ghosts living in.
Down there, I found eggs and some sort of smoked meat that looked like beef – maybe from the bracku animals Tasha had told me about – and decided to do a nice, big, Filippino tapsilog meal for us.
Clutching my eggs and smoked meat, I hurried back up the stairs and got to work.
Warden Hallum had great timing. When he walked back in, the food was ready.
“Hi!” I called to him, busily plating his portions of garlic-fried rice and meat with its new, sweet-and-savoury sauce. “And don’t forget your egg!” I said merrily, plopping the fried egg onto the plate before holding it out to him.
He stared at me, then at it, in apparent bewilderment. Then, he looked beyond me to the stove.
“Don’t look at that,” I advised him. “I’ll clean it up after.” My cooking process tended towards the chaotic. However, the results were always worth it.
He took my advice and avoided gazing at the stove and its many messy pots, though he looked a little grim about the mouth over it. I held back a laugh, finding his neat-and-tidy nature to be extremely cute. Also funny. Especially when my own loosey-goosey nature clashed with it.
“I will clean it up,” I said again, once I’d gotten the giggles under control.
Though I was starting to enjoy seeing what made this stern-jawed warden tick, this ultimately was his home.
I wasn’t going to completely take it over while I was here.
He deserved peace and his own space. “I’ll clean the rest up today, too,” I added, nodding my head towards the piles and boxes still taking up most of the space in here.
Instead of looking relieved, or saying something a little sassy like, “Good,” he simply took his plate and said, “I will help.”
“You don’t have to. I’m sure you have lots of warden things to do!”
“I have completed my own chores. Xennet and Dorn do not require my assistance with anything today.”
“Xennet and Dorn are the other men in this province, right?” I asked, plating my own meal now. My mouth watered. “The unmarried ones?”
“Correct.” A slight pause. Then, “They are eager to meet you. When you are settled.”
I snorted, reading the subtext around the word settled. I was fairly certain Warden Hallum was telling me I wasn’t allowed to run off and make any alien cowboy friends until I’d cleaned up all the crap I’d left all over his house.
“How about tomorrow?” I asked. I opened a drawer, searching for cutlery for us.
There was precisely one fork. One spoon. And one knife.
That was it.
“Hold on,” I said, dropping my plate with a clatter on the counter and hunting around the exploded boxes.
“I think I saw…Here we are!” Triumphantly, I brandished my little bento box lunchbox I’d used for my shifts at work on Elora Station.
It was candy-apple red, with its own matching fork, knife, spoon, and set of chopsticks.
I fished out the fork and spoon and returned to my plate.
We had to eat standing up, because the kitchen table was completely loaded with my boxes, as was the chair that went with it.
Once I’d had a few bites to take off the grumbling edge of my hunger, I slanted my gaze at my silent brunch companion.
He ate with a mechanical sort of precision that seemed less about actually experiencing the food and more about fuelling his marvellous body as efficiently as possible.
“What do you think?” I couldn’t help but prod. I knew I was a good cook, but also recognized that this meal would be a little foreign to him, with human flavours he might never have experienced before.
He finished his bite completely before speaking, his square jaw working and his throat contracting with a swallow.
“I was thinking about the hospital construction timeline.”
“Oh. I meant the food,” I said, grinning. “What do you think of the food?”
“It seems to me to be a very nutritionally balanced breakfast.”
“And the flavours?”
His gaze met mine.
I’d always favoured bold, bright, saturated colours.
Red lipstick, pink slippers and mugs. Rainbow pillows and blankets galore.
I’d never really stopped to notice how pretty grey could be before.
But Warden Hallum’s eyes had thoroughly convinced me.
That extraordinary clash of winter and water and metal.
Maybe I should buy a few grey or silver décor items…
“I have not tasted anything like it,” he answered me. “I usually eat quickly, simply to provide my body with enough energy. I don’t usually examine the matter beyond that.”
“You don’t say,” I murmured. Looks like I’d been dead-on there. I took another bite, assuming he was finished talking, but he wasn’t.
“It is good.”
There was absolutely no reason at all that my belly should contract with quick and liquid pleasure at his compliment.
Sadly, no one actually told my stomach that, so it went ahead and did it anyway.
I took another big bite, chewing quickly to distract myself from…
well, everything. Him. Me. The rather annoying fluttery thing my heart was currently doing.
It didn’t really work. He’d complimented the meal, and I was happy.
Partially because I was proud of this recipe, one of many my lola had taught me when I lived with her.
And partially because a compliment from Warden Hallum felt like a rare and wonderful thing.
Like when an antisocial cat chooses your lap above all others to sit on.
I didn’t think he gave them out often. And I definitely didn’t think he’d be the type to blow smoke up anyone’s ass.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Do not thank me,” he grunted, carrying his empty plate to the sink and beginning to wash it. “I did not put in all the work to cook this meal.”
Cheeks feeling flushed, I worked on clearing my own plate.
Warden Hallum had had more food on his, but his non-stop, almost-robotic method of eating meant he’d finished much quicker.
I still had a lot left. I was so focused on the food, and on letting his words replay over and over in my head, that I didn’t even notice he’d begun cleaning the messy dishes up for me.
By the time I finally finished my last bite and took a look around, every pot and pan had been washed and put away, and all evidence of my myriad drips, drops, and spills had been entirely erased. It was almost magical, to be honest.