Gideon
After a week of living together, Mac still slept on Seth’s air mattress. He still didn’t have a dresser or nightstand or any other discernible furniture. And he still lived out of his bags. Not suitcases, but garbage bags.
“You know, I saw some good dressers on Craigslist,” Gideon pointed out to him a few days ago. He tried to nail his mom’s tone of casual-yet-forceful suggestion, but it didn’t work on Mac.
“Cool,” Mac said. And it was never brought up again.
Gideon stared at the piles of packed garbage bags that lined the wall of Mac’s bedroom. He hoped there was no rotting food in any of them.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. Gideon wanted to relax and do some studying in the enclosed porch while the weather was still nice. He pictured himself opening the windows and reading while a cool breeze swept through his hair. But he couldn’t go in there. Half the room belonged to a pile of Mac’s stuff.
Boxes and crates and yet even more garbage bags were stacked on top of one another, a Jenga tower of junk. Mac had promised that he would unpack and clean up in a timely manner. Gideon wasn’t so sure. To him, it sounded like an alcoholic saying he was just going to have one drink.
Gideon didn’t like to call himself a neat freak. He merely believed that a clean living space was the key to a good life. How could a person achieve success in the world when where he lived was in disarray?
Mac was the one who called him a neat freak.
“You are,” Mac said as he was pouring himself a bowl of Raisin Bran for dinner. Mac ate cereal for dinner, and lunch, and breakfast. Could he not rotate in some canned soup or Chef Boyardee?
“There’s nothing freaky about wanting to have a clean apartment. You need to respect your shared living space.”
“You sound like an RA.” Mac poured milk in his cereal. Drops splattered against the flakes and onto the counter. “I’ll try harder.”
“You said that two days ago. You’re still on trial here.”
“Where’s my lawyer?” Mac smiled at his joke. “I will take care of the sun room. I just got distracted with classes starting. This weekend, though.”
Gideon didn’t believe him for a second. “How did you survive with your past roommates in the dorm?”
“I kept my mess to my half of the room, which I’m doing here.”
“But I can still see it. The sun porch looks like an episode ofHoarders. Your pile of shit is on the verge of collapsing. It’s not just there. You can’t leave the kitchen a mess. We don’t want to get ants.” Gideon pointed his head at the milk droplets.
“For real?” Mac asked.
Gideon nodded yes.
“Man, you run a tight ship.” Mac whipped off his T-shirt, exposing a smooth chest rippling with muscles. Gideon cut his eyes to the floor and focused full-throttle on the specks of dust on the tiles.
He pulled the dishrag off the oven handle. “Use this!”
“This is easier.” Mac’s arm muscles jumped around as he wiped up his mess. He left his T-shirt in a ball on the counter.
“Are you going to get a new shirt?”
“Nah. It’s a white T-shirt. The milk blends right in.” Mac gave him a knowing smirk and shoveled a mountain of cereal into his mouth.
Gideon didn’t know why that threw him off so much, why it made it so hard to breathe for a moment. It was just a shock. No warning. Then, bam! Shirtless! Perhaps he wasn’t expecting Mac to be so jacked.Pittsburgh did a body good.Gideon was regretting this two-week trial already.
“I thought gay guys were supposed to be super clean.”
“And I thought straight guys were supposed to be slobs.”
Gideon cocked an eyebrow. Touché. He checked the time on the microwave.
“I have to get ready.”
“Hot date?” Mac asked.
