9. Miller #3
“I know, and I appreciate the offer, but it was my responsibility.”
We went back into the garage, and I asked, “What do you want to bring inside?” He climbed into the van and heaved Hubert Humphrey into my arms. Then he shoved a few things into a tote bag and grabbed a small cooler.
I hit the button to close the garage door, and as he followed me up the stairs, he said, “You’ve literally trapped me here, since your car is boxing me in.”
“That wasn’t my intention. And really, your vehicle weighs twice as much as mine. If I pissed you off and you wanted to leave, you could just throw the van in reverse and shove my car out into the street.”
“That’s true.”
“Please don’t, though. If you decide you don’t want to be here, just tell me and I’ll pull the car out.”
As soon as Collie set foot in the kitchen, the cat meowed and came running. He scooped her into his arms and nuzzled her head while crooning, “Hi there, pretty girl! Did you miss me? I missed you so much!” He’d probably only been gone for four or five hours, but sure, why not?
This love fest went on for a solid minute. I put the alligator on one of the barstools and got myself a glass of water. After he finally put the cat down, he unpacked the contents of the cooler into the fridge and asked me, “Mind if I take a shower? I feel grimy.”
“You really don’t have to ask.”
“Sure I do. I’m a guest here.”
“Let’s change that. Be my roommate.”
He turned to me and asked, “Would you really rent a room to me?”
“Absolutely, but you have to share it with the cat.”
“How much is rent?”
“Five bucks a month.” I felt ridiculous charging him at all, but I figured he needed some sort of symbolic gesture.
He exclaimed, “That’s nuts! You should be charging a hundred times that. Actually, that would still be way too low for San Francisco.”
“I don’t need the money, Collie, and it’s just until you get on your feet.”
“And you’re serious about this?”
“Don’t I look serious?”
He watched me for a long moment. Then he fished a wrinkled fiver out of his wallet, placed it on the kitchen counter, and murmured, “Thanks, Miller.”
“No problem.”
“I guess I’ll go get that shower, then.” When I nodded, he picked up his tote bag and headed for the bathroom.
Sometime later, I was sitting on the couch in the office, playing a game on my phone, when he appeared in the doorway and struck a pose. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a cropped, long-sleeved top that was very sheer.
He asked, “Do you know why I’m wearing this?”
“Because you’re planning to hit the clubs?” I sincerely hoped that wasn’t the right answer.
“Nope.” He took a seat on the arm of the couch, so he was facing me. “I’m wearing this top because it’s the last time I’ll ever be able to.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it’s see-though, and after tomorrow I’m going to have a huge, ugly scar.” He delicately touched his chest as he said that.
I put down my phone and asked, “You mean you’re actually going through with the surgery?”
“I kind of have to. I can’t go through life wondering if I’m going to pass out at any moment, being afraid to drive, and constantly injuring my heart by making it work way too hard.”
“What changed your mind?”
“You did.”
“But I didn’t say anything to try to talk you into it.”
“No, you didn’t, and that wouldn’t have worked anyway.
Part of what convinced me is the fact that you showed up today.
You could’ve let me go, but instead you came and found me.
I wanted to give you an out, because taking care of someone after major surgery is a huge burden, and it might have been more of a responsibility than you actually wanted.
But you looked for me and asked me to come home. ”
“You’re making the right choice,” I said.
“I know, but it’s still absolutely terrifying.”
“What else convinced you?”
“The fact that you weren’t mad at me.” He dipped his head shyly and admitted, “The thought of putting myself in your hands during my recovery makes me feel really vulnerable. But you were patient and kind even when I was being ridiculous, and that made me feel safe with you.”
After a moment, I said, “You should wear that top anyway. Scars are sexy.”
“When people say that, they really don’t mean scars from open-heart surgery. They mean, like, a cool scar you’d get from being in a knife fight.” He looked down at his chest, rubbing it through the thin material of his shirt. “Maybe I can hide it with a huge tattoo.”
“That doesn’t seem like your style.”
“It would if it was ironic, or messed up in some way. I could get, like, carpe diem in a huge calligraphy font, but I’d spell it wrong on purpose. Crap-ay diem. Imagine all the discomfort I could cause!”
“Please don’t. That would make me twitchy forever.”
A mischievous grin played around his lips. “See? It’s already working.”
“You wouldn’t really do that, would you?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? The things I say and do are as surprising to me as they are to everyone else.”
I was surprised by how much I loved that about him. I’d always thought I needed everything to be planned out and predictable. But Collie was constantly proving me wrong.