He poked my chest. “You. You’re your greatest accomplishment.”
Tears sprung from my eyes. “I’m not an accomplishment. I’m a failure,” I wept.
Hudson brought me in for a hug, pressing me tightly against him. He was all hard planes and muscles, but it was comforting to rest against him, for him to hold my weight. With his support, I almost felt that I was going to be okay.
When we got into the car, the bailiff got busy with the house. Hudson opened the car’s windows and cranked the radio to classic rock, which I assumed was to distract me. “Fresh air and old music,” he said. “They cure all ills.”
Hudson backed out of the driveway and drove up the street. It dawned on me that I was going to see Batman’s lair. Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. Suddenly, a little kernel of excitement popped inside me. I had never thought I would see where Hudson lived. Actually, I never believed he lived anywhere. I couldn’t imagine him owning dishes that weren’t Tupperwares, let alone a nightstand or an ottoman.
Suddenly, I was wondering about all kinds of things. Did he live in an apartment or a house? Was the bathroom gross? Could I sit on the toilet seat without sticking to it? Did he have a bedroom set, or was his mattress on the floor? Did he even own a mattress? Did he have a modern aesthetic or southwestern or granny? Did his furniture come premade, or did he have to put it together himself?
“I can’t wait to see what your place is like,” I blurted out as he drove through town.
“Not far now,” he said.
“What’s it like, your place?”
“When we get there, no snooping in the drawers, Eliza,” he ordered.
“You have drawers?”
“I’m not an animal. I’m not a kid. Don’t mistake me for a kid.”
It turned out that Hudson lived a little more than ten minutes away from my house.It was a brand-new development of townhomes. The entire development was very clean and manicured, with new sod and baby trees dotting every scrap of green. The townhomes alternated in color from light beige to dark beige and back again to light beige. I liked it. It wasn’t homey and quirky like Joe’s compound, but it was clean and fresh and fitting for new starts in life.
“Very nice,” I commented. “So, you live in a townhome.”
“I moved in recently, even before they completed construction of the development. A lot of my men moved in, too.”
“Did you follow them, or did they follow you?”
Hudson shrugged and turned left, deep into the maze of the development. “They moved in after me. I guess it was just habit. They followed me into battle, and now they followed me into a townhouse development in the suburbs.”
That was interesting. I didn't know that Hudson was a leader in the Marines. For some reason, I just thought he was a regular grunt. But it all made sense. He was a leader. After all, he had been leading me for days and even got me to eat egg whites. If he could do that, getting men to risk their lives would be easy as pie.
Hudson made a few more turns, winding his way through the development, and finally drove into a driveway of one of the light beige townhouses. He pushed a button in the Camaro, and the garage door opened.
The inside of the garage was immaculate. On one wall were tools organized by type and shape, all hung up on hooks. Under them was a work table and two black tool chests. Black cabinets lined another wall. Besides that, the garage was totally empty. Even the floor was pristine. I realized that having to contend with all of my stuff would throw a wrench into his lifestyle. I wasn’t sure how he would deal with having a shot of chaos into his otherwise ordered life.
But then I remembered that I didn't have a lot of belongings. Sure, I was a lot of chaos, but I wouldn’t take up a lot of space.
Hudson turned off the car and took a deep breath. “Here's how we're going to do this,” he started. “I'm going to take you in and do the tour, show you where everything is. Then, I’m going to bring all your stuff in while you stay in the house and get comfortable.”
“Oh, I can't let you do that. I can carry my own stuff. I don't want to be a burden. Look, I’m not going to put you out. This is a very temporary situation. I might be gone in an hour. Or thirty minutes. We can even leave my stuff in the car, so it’s easier to move when I go.”
Hudson shifted in his seat to look at me. “Eliza, trust me on this.” He karate-chopped his hand in the air for emphasis when he spoke. “You’re in shock, and you don’t know it yet. You need time to breathe and take this all in. You need a safe place to recuperate. We don’t know how long you’re going to need to stay with me until you get your feet back on firm ground. So, we’re unpacking and moving you in. You know, organized. You’re going to rest upstairs. It’ll be a lot easier for me to bring in the stuff than for you to help. Do you understand me?”
“You say that like I'm not capable of moving my belongings.”
Hudson smiled at me. “There are so many ways I can respond to that, but then we’ll never get out of this car. So how about you just listen to me, don’t argue, and we'll get the show on the road.”
“Fish and guests start to stink after three days,” I pointed out.
“I love the smell of fish.”
I decided to give in, only because I was tired, in a semi-state of shock, and was dying to see his place. Besides, I didn't want to lug my stuff up the stairs into his townhouse. I was just trying to be polite, considering that he was going to put me up in his home for however long I needed. That was awkward enough. I didn't like to be a burden. I thought I had never been a burden before, but my husband had made it clear that I had been. If I was a burden while I cooked and cleaned for a man for more than two decades, how much more of a burden would I be by invading a man’s space and messing up his home?
“Here we are,” Hudson announced when he got to the top of the stairs.
