18. Wentworth
EIGHTEEN
Wentworth
I haven’t seen Kaitlyn in four days.
When I woke up on Tuesday, I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. I barely managed to throw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt before I rushed downstairs. Expecting to find her camped out at the counter with her laptop, surrounded by piles of notebooks with a pencil stuck in her hair and a pair of earbuds jammed into her ears to drown me out, all I find is a dark, empty kitchen and a single notebook—this one brand-new with a bright red cover—on the counter in front of a freshly brewed pot of coffee. On top of the notebook is a plate of chocolate chip cookies covered in plastic wrap.
Moving the plate off the notebook, I flip it open to the first page
James –
I thought we could use this as a way of communicating. Anything you’d like me to do while I’m here or anything you need me to pick up for you in town, just write it down and I’ll get it done.
Kait
p.s. the cookies are from my mom.
Scowling at the notebook for a few moments like her note was written in some sort of secret code that I can’t quite decipher, I pull the plastic wrap off the cookies. Shoving one into my mouth, I pick the same mug I used yesterday out of the cabinet above the coffeemaker and pour myself a cup.
Chewing what might be the best chocolate chip cookie I’ve ever eaten, I turn around to survey the room. There are obvious signs that Kait’s been here. The throw pillows I tossed on the floor last night, are arranged neatly on the couch I was laying on. The remote I stuck under the couch is in its rightful place on the coffee table. My boots are lined up like a pair of twin soldiers next to the front door. The dishwasher has been unloaded, reloaded, and is currently running behind me. I can smell the Lysol she used to clean the downstairs bath from here.
So, Kait came, cleaned, made me coffee, left me cookies, and then, instead of using the Wi-Fi for class like she needs to, she just... left.
Yeah—because she’s smart. You practically chased her around the house with your dick, yesterday morning, moron. Unless she’s crazy or suffered some sort of catastrophic brain injury, ain’t no way she’s going to put up with that bullshit two mornings in a row.
Shit.
Shoving the rest of my cookie into my mouth, I brush my hands off on the seat of my sweats before I turn to retrieve the notebook abandoned behind me. Pulling the cheap, plastic pen from the spiral, I flip it open. Back to scowling at it, I try to talk myself into just letting it go for a few seconds before I say fuck it and start writing.
Sunshine –
This is just as good a way of communicating as any I guess, but to tell the truth, I’d rather talk to you face to face. I said you can study here and I meant it. You don’t have to worry about me bothering you, if that’s what it is. I‘ll leave you alone, I swear. Just... be here when I wake up tomorrow, okay?
Hesitating for a few seconds, I leave the note unsigned rather than sign it with a name that really isn’t mine. Staring at what I wrote for another moment or two, I decide on impulse to drop a p.s. of my own.
p.s. as my dick’s legal representative, I’d like to apologize on its behalf for its behavior yesterday morning. It’s been a while since it’s met someone who’s piqued its interest and it got carried away.
Wednesday morning was the same as Tuesday.
Despite the fact that Damien showed up again last night—this time with a bottle of Bullet, a deck of cards, and a box of take out from the only restaurant in town—I woke up even earlier than the morning before, determined to catch Kait before she left.
I shouldn’t have bothered—the house was just as empty then as it was the morning before. All that waited for me was a fully loaded dishwasher, fresh coffee, and a plate of blueberry muffins on top of the notebook.
Pushing the muffins aside with barely a glance, I flip the notebook open.
James –
Please tell your dick that I accept its apology and that I’m flattered to know that I’ve piqued its interest, although, if the photographs on the couch are any indication, I find it hard to believe that it’s been as long as it claims.
Regardless of its behavior, neither you or your dick bothered me. Oddly enough, I enjoyed talking with you—almost as much as I wanted to punch you in the face. I just don’t need a place to study anymore so there’s really no reason for me to stay.
Kait
p.s. the blueberries in the muffins grow on the other side of the lake. the bears love eating them almost as much as they love eating dumb city boys who fall asleep on front porches.
I’ve read and re-read her note about a million times and am on my fourth muffin and second cup of coffee when I finally decide to write back.
Sunshine –
My dick might be a hedonistic asshole but it’s probably one of the most honest dicks you’ll ever meet. Furthermore, it would like me to tell you that it takes serious umbrage at being called a liar. We’ve liked you from the second we saw you and despite the fact that you want to punch me in the face, we’re both pretty sure you like us back.
As for the pictures on the couch—
1) they’re still not photographs. Take a closer look, and
2) they’re of my sisters. I don’t usually draw people I don’t care about. It’s a waste of time and paper.
I’ve decided I don’t like this pen pal bullshit after all. I want to see you and I want you to stop cleaning up after me. I don’t like it.
Halfway tempted to rip the page out of the notebook and flush it down the toilet, I go for broke and drop another p.s.
p.s. why don’t you need a place to study anymore? what happened?
Even though my brain is telling me to set the entire notebook on fire and forget about her because this is not why I’m here and getting tangled up in this woman and her problems is the last thing I need, I slap it closed and leave it where it is while I take the rest of my muffins and coffee to enjoy my breakfast on the porch.
Thursday morning it was lemon bars.
James –
Hedonistic? Furthermore? Umbrage?
Your dick has an impressive vocabulary—its mother must be proud.
It wasn’t my intention to call either of you a liar. Now I guess it’s my turn to apologize. Please let your dick know that I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to hurt its feelings or suggest that it is anything more than a fine, upstanding dick. (see what I did there?)
Again, I’m flattered to know that it finds me interesting… but I’m afraid my feelings are a bit more ambivalent.
I took a closer look at your work like you suggested. It’s remarkable. Your attention to detail is mind-blowing. It must take you months to finish a single picture... makes me wonder why you’d even consider wasting the “time and paper” on drawing me. I guess boredom does weird things to people.
To answer your question, nothing happened. My circumstances have changed and I no longer plan on continuing school—that’s it. As much as I’d like to sit around and wait for you to wake up, I have a long list of daily chores that I need to get to so, while scrubbing your toilet might be on my to-do list, unfortunately for both of us, entertaining you isn’t. If you’re bored, there’s more than a few books in the upstairs study. I trust you know how to read.
Kait
p.s. enjoy the lemon bars.
Taking a bite of one of the lemon bars she left behind, I frown at the lined piece of paper in front of me while I chew. “Fuck it,” I mutter out loud before I start writing.
Sunshine –
Don’t let the tattoos fool you—I know how to read... there are just other ways I prefer to spend my time.
The time it takes me to finish a piece depends on how obsessed I am with its subject. Most of the time, you’re right—I’ll work on a single project for months. I get bored easily and tend to have more than one project going at once to keep myself interested.
I suspect that I could finish a drawing of you in less than a week.
You want to find out?
p.s. ambivalent? who’s the liar now?
p.p.s. my dick and I have discussed it and we’ve decided that if you’re here when we wake up and you agree to let us draw you, you can stare at it as much as you want.
Friday morning it’s cinnamon rolls the size of my fist. The quiet stillness of the house tells me everything I need to know—Kait isn’t here.
Shoving the covered plate off the notebook its sitting on top of, I flip it open and scan through our back and forth until I get to her reply.
James –
A week?
It sounds like you and your dick are a little obsessed with me. Running the risk of hurting its feelings all over again, I have to be honest—if I were to agree to model for you, staring at your dick wouldn’t be what I’d ask for as payment.
Regardless, I wouldn’t know the first thing about modeling for an artist. I’m afraid I’d only disappoint the both of you.
Kait
p.s. the cinnamon rolls have pecans in the filling—just in case you have a nut allergy
Closing the notebook without writing a reply, I ignore the cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee she left behind and go back to bed.