“Luke,” I repeat, nodding.
He turns over his shoulder to speak. “What is this?” He points to the middle frame, which houses a poster I made in a screen-printing class in third year. I grin to myself as he faces forward.
“It—uh—it’s what I imagine tampon advertisements would look like if they were used by men. I made it in school.” The image is a vintage-style 2D animation of a box of tampons surrounded by slogans and quotes as if it was plucked out of a 1940s housewife magazine.
“Real men bleed onTampax,” he reads and tilts his head at me. “This is what they teach you at university?” He turns and points at the sofa. I nod and he sits.
I choose to let the loaded comment slide. What does he have against higher education? Or is it only me he has an issue with?
“Does Friday work?” Warren asks bluntly as I sit at the opposite end of the couch.
“Friday? Hmm. Should I expect you on Saturday, then?” I stare blankly. Perhaps his comment about university upset me a little.What’s gotten into me today?
The corner of his mouth raises. “For someone who takes a good hour to find a key, you sure care about tardiness.”
“Tardiness? You were thirty minutes late. If I had another choice, you—”
He interrupts, “If either of us had another choice, we wouldn’t be agreeing to this.” He uses both pointer fingers to gesture to the space between us. “But here we are. Subjects of the CPS’ whim and approval.” I shift in my seat, responding to the annoyance in his voice as he continues. “Look, this is probably going to suck. I’ll clean up after Luke and myself. He’ll be in school most days. My work hours fit into his schedule. I’ll pay my half of the rent, and I’ll make our own food. I don’t expect help from you outside of letting us crash here.”
“Okay…” Not much of ateam, then.
“And your sister—Willow, right?” I nod. “She’ll be sharing a room with you?”
“She will be. Once her NICU stay is done. Hoping she’ll come home in three weeks.”
Warren holds the bridge of his nose. “A baby?”
“Yes.” My smile washes off.
“I didn’t know that,” Warren sighs out.
“Well… sorry?”
“It’s fine.”
“Oh, I’m so glad it’s fine foryou,”I reply, eyes narrowing.
He looks up from the floor and makes eye contact that is far too intense. I look away immediately. “Sorry,” Warren says, throwing out that word like it’s nothing.
I choose the uncomfortable silence over an insincere response, and the quiet lingers.
“I’m hoping Friday is all right. It gives me the weekend to get Luke’s room set up. Once Rachel does a house visit and gives the all clear, he can move in. She said Monday, hopefully.” There’s a shift of emotion in his voice—desperation, maybe.
“Sounds good.” I try to match his brief and curt demeanour, but I continue despite myself, “I bet Luke is really excited.”
Warren studies me for a brief moment, and then speaks only in sign language.“He is mostly excited to live with a hot older girl.”
I lean back in my seat and meet his stare.“Well, I hope he isn’t too disappointed,”I sign back.
Warren laughs and raises a fist to wipe his expression away. I feel a sense of pride rising in my chest, having gotten a real reaction out of someone who seems very unwilling to give them away.
“Rachel didn’t mention you could sign. I—”
“She didn’t ask,” I interrupt. His brows crease, waiting for an explanation. “My adoptive father is deaf.”
He slips back to boredom. “Cool.” He stands. “See you Friday, then.”
Before I can stop him or get any of my planned speech out, all the house rules and expectations I’d spent hours writing down, he’s out the front door.
