Chapter 7 #2
“Oh, ok,” I said. I kept going, now through woods with trees that towered on the sides of the car, and he asked me about my classes and the professor who had been so mad about the group project.
“She doesn’t seem to be angry at me anymore but the three people in my group are still furious.
I made enemies and I don’t enjoy it, even if it is their own fault.
” Going to school, where I was also still known as the drunk woman from the interview, was less fun than ever.
“But now you’re going to graduate on time,” he said and yes, thank goodness, I would.
We kept talking and I kept driving but at one point, I looked over and saw that Shane had fallen asleep.
I was also yawning, so I directed my car back to his duplex.
When we arrived, I didn’t feel like disturbing him.
He looked so peaceful that I thought I would give him just another minute or two.
I leaned back against my own seat and after not too long, my eyes also closed.
I only woke up because of the sun, and also because of being so damn cold.
“Good golly.” Shane, still upright in the seat next to mine, stretched as far as the confines of my car would allow and groaned. “We spent the night out here. Are you freezing?”
Absolutely, and I also felt as stiff as he looked. “I didn’t want to wake you up because you were so cozy,” I said.
“Thanks,” he told me and he wasn’t being sarcastic. He was sincere, despite the fact that he was also squinting and massaging the area around his eyes with his fingertips. “Do you have to get to class?”
“Yes. Probably, except I don’t know what time it is.” At the moment, I wasn’t very clear about what day it was. It felt like I’d been chewing on dry leaves or something, too. Moldy ones.
“Want to come in?”
I did, very much, because I knew that he had a clean bathroom and using that did a lot to make me feel better.
When he took his turn, I searched around to see if there was any coffee (no, there was too much caffeine in it) and then I looked at his living room, trying to imagine the place with furniture and rugs.
When he joined me, he looked a lot more awake and refreshed than the person I had seen when I’d stared into the bathroom mirror at myself.
That mirror was large enough to reflect more than half of my body because the bathroom was nice—this whole place was.
“You’re so lucky to have this apartment,” I said.
“If you’re worried about the rent, you could probably fit a roommate in that second bedroom.
It’s a little tight so you’d have to find a small-ish person. ”
“Or a cat,” he suggested.
“No, no pets allowed. I read your lease,” I reminded him.
“The guy next door has a few. For a while, I was thinking that you might want to have that room.”
“Me? I have a house.”
“Your parents do,” he corrected. “But you don’t want to de-mesh from them. Is it un-mesh?”
“I do want to de-mesh,” I said. “I always planned to leave when I graduated and head to…I don’t know, somewhere else. I still could, maybe.” I paused. “Were you really going to ask me to live here?”
“I had considered it. Do you have to get to class or do you want breakfast?”
I decided to stay and he started to cook.
I watched him pull ingredients out of his refrigerator and cupboards and it was easy to see where his salary was going: food.
He used three different kinds of produce (organic produce) and he also broke ten eggs into a bowl (they were free-range and also organic).
I beat the bright orange yokes, which we didn’t see at Walter’s, to help out.
“Did you ever work in the kitchen at the restaurant?” Shane asked as he diced a tomato. His knife skills weren’t bad at all.
“I’ve done everything,” I said. “Watch. If you hold it like this…” I moved his hand on the tomato. “Now you can go a lot faster. It’s not so important when we’re only cooking for two, though.”
“That’s much better,” he approved. “Do you like cooking?”
“Honestly, after being at Walter’s for most of the day, I don’t even feel like eating.
” That food aversion had never shown much in my physique, unfortunately.
“I don’t mind doing it now, with you. It’s kind of fun when there’s no pressure.
You must like cooking for yourself because you’re so particular. ”
“You mean picky.”
“If you’re the chef, then you get what you want,” I responded.
“But actually, I hate cooking,” he told me. “I always have an idea of how things should taste but the end product isn’t ever what I was imagining.” He reached for the baby spinach. “It’s a metaphor for life.”
“Your life isn’t turning out like you imagined?”
“Can you hand me the goat cheese?” he requested, and I did.
To my surprise, his omelet was very tasty despite the spinach and all the other vegetable items. Shane seemed pleased with it, too, and not disappointed with our output. Those pretty eggs were going down easy.
“You don’t have class this morning?” he asked.
“I’m skipping it,” I said. “It’s the one I have with Corbin, the guy from the party, so I don’t care too much.”
“Is he hassling you?”
“No, he’s embarrassed about what happened with the video. He blushes and hides his face when I look over at him. Which I only do by mistake,” I explained. “I’m the one who should be embarrassed.”
“You didn’t do anything that other people haven’t done. You had a little too much to drink, the same way that your sister did. How did she feel the day after her big night with three tequilas?”
“And a whiskey and Coke, and gin and grenadine,” I added and he made a gagging sound. “She was sick the next morning but in general, she’s been acting a lot different. Happy.”
“That’s different?”
“She didn’t even leave the house for a few years,” I said. “I mean, sometimes, but it was mostly when she was forced. Now she’s talking about some European guy and she’s been at the restaurant a lot more, too. She’s bathing, which I think is better for everyone.”
“She wouldn’t leave the house or shower? Sounds like she was depressed or she still is. My little sister went through something like that,” he told me. “It was awful for a few years while she tried to get herself back on track. We tried to help, too, but we couldn’t do very much.”
“Did she really try?” I asked, and that question seemed to confuse him.
“She didn’t do it on purpose. She didn’t want to sit at home with no energy, feeling terrible while her old friends were off enjoying high school and having fun. I was already in college but I started coming home most weekends to, I don’t know.” He shrugged slightly. “I guess to watch her.”
“I do that,” I confessed. “I check on Morgan a lot. But I don’t do it because I care so much.
I’ve been so damn mad at her for shirking…
I know how that makes me sound, especially since you just said something nice about wanting to take care of your own sister.
You’re nicer than I am, without a doubt. ”
“I’m not particularly nice. They would do the same for me, if I needed them. In fact—” He looked at my side of the table. “Are you done?”
“You gave me half of what you made, which is a five-egg omelet. I’m definitely done but you’re welcome to it,” I said, and he took my plate. I had memories of Max eating my food, but not always when I’d offered it. He’d been more of a grabber. “What are you doing today?”
He had to go to the stadium to have meetings there, since the team was getting ready to start inviting different players to their summer training camp (held at the practice facility just down the road from Walter’s, and our busiest time of year).
I did have class and I did have to get to the restaurant, although I was strangely loath to leave.
“Maybe we could go out to dinner,” I suggested, since invitations involving food had worked for me in the past.
“Sure, and then we’ll sleep in a bed instead of a car.”
He didn’t mean together. He was talking about beds in a general sense and I agreed that it was a good idea.
I left after that and it was a pretty normal day, except that I was more distracted than usual.
It was probably due to being tired and slightly cranky because of a crick in my neck that I didn’t seem to be able to rub or stretch away.
I was glad when I returned home that night, back to the room that was still cleaner than my sister’s (although she was making more of an effort now, because I’d even heard her vacuuming).
Mine had fresh sheets—well, maybe not. I had been so busy that it was hard to remember the last time I’d changed them, so I would do that tomorrow.
Anyway, it was better to be in my bed with slightly dirty sheets than in the front seat of my car.
Why hadn’t I woken up Shane, and then we could have both been comfortable for the night?
I hadn’t wanted to leave, that was why. I was thinking about him again now and I had been for most of the day. I reached for my phone to look at his pictures and that was when he called.
“Molly, can I ask you a big favor?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately. I perched on the edge of my bed, poised and ready.
“I’m having car trouble. Could you come over to the stadium?”
“Woodsmen Stadium?” Yes, duh, because what other stadium was there? “Why? I mean, yes, but why?”
“I need your help. Do you know your license plate number?”
I didn’t, not off the top of my head, but I gave it to him once I got down to my car.
The front door had squeaked because it had been a while since I’d oiled it, but I moved fast, and no one in my family probably cared enough to wonder where I was going so late.
By the time I made it over to Woodsmen Stadium, Shane had relayed the information on my license plate to the security guards still stationed at the gate and they let me pass.
I went over to the parking area where he had directed me and found him standing next to his truck.
I rolled down my window. “Hi,” I said.