Both of Bottle's ears perk up and she sits on her hind legs staring very carefully at Stone. She doesn't like his energy and frankly neither do I.
"I thought you were finished."
"I am."
"Then let me take the damn bowl," I say with an attitude.
He continues to grip the bowl and raises his eyes to meet mine.
"I'll do it."
Bottle growls lowly at Stone. At least somebody in this house has my back.
"I want to clean the kitchen before I go to bed so–"
"You don't want me here, do you?"
I give deep consideration to what I'm going to say in response to Stone's very straight forward question. My father and I spent fourteen long days arguing about how much "help" he was going to give to Stone after his release.
I thought that my father's generosity should have ended with giving him a small starter loan and the occasional listening ear if things were tough at first. My father disagreed. He wanted to do more.
So, when Stone called and asked if he could stay indefinitely at our house, my father jumped at the chance to say yes. It was exactly the type of big gesture he was looking for. He was ecstatic about it. Me not so much.
But Stone seems to be a straight shooter a.k.a. asshole, so there's no need to handle him with kid gloves. Direct is best with a guy like this.
"No, I don't want you here."
And then the oddest thing happens after that.
He smiles.
* * *
