“No. This is ok, it’s going to be ok.”
“You’re crying right now. Tears are going down your cheeks,” he said, and I grabbed my napkin from my lap. I hadn’t even taken a bite of the salad I’d ordered and those got so wilted when you took them home in a box, but I wasn’t going to waste it.
“It’s ok,” I told him.
“Bullshit, this isn’t ok. It’s a mess but I can do something. I can finally do something good.”
“What?”
“You don’t want that,” he said, pointing to the salad, and I shook my head apologetically. “Then let’s go,” he said next, and I understood. I wouldn’t have wanted to hang out with me, either—I could see how I was acting (dull, sad, et cetera). I was in no way a Fun Girl but somehow, I wasn’t able to change it. I’d had a chance today to make friends with some of my new coworkers but I hadn’t been able to do anything except act polite, not amusing or interesting.
When we got out to the sidewalk, Everett turned in the direction of my apartment, and I thought it was nice of him to walk mehome. But he kept going, all the way up the stairs with me. Then he looked around at the boxes, both plastic and cardboard. “It looks like you’re just about packed.”
“I never really unpacked much. There’s not very much room,” I said to excuse myself. He had already remarked that my place was the size of his closet.
He sniffed and then frowned. “That mattress is probably ruined, but you won’t need it.”
No, the motel already had them. I nodded and added, “I can’t keep the chair, either. It’s too bad that it’s upholstered because the smell will never go away.”
Everett studied it. “It’s no great loss. It’s ugly as hell.”
“Is it?” Well, yellow with puce accents wasn’t for everyone, but it had added a little cheer to this room. I had always thought that it was too bad how the only window here was in the bathroom, and it was small—the apartment had never felt very cheery even with the yellow chair, and now that it smelled so bad, it was about as happy as a grave. “You’re right, I won’t miss it very much.”
“Great. I’ll pull my truck around. I’ll probably have to double-park but they never give tickets to the Woodsmen. Not the ones who play,” he added.
Maybe my sad mood had made me dumber, but I didn’t understand what he was talking about. “Are you saying that you’ll help me move? I can’t leave yet. I’ll lose my security deposit and anyway, there’s no room at the motel. Remember? There will probably be more when all the vacationers—”
“I don’t think you should go to some shitty motel. The thing that makes the most sense is you staying with me until you find a new apartment, because you can’t be here, and screw your sister for leaving you.”
I didn’t feel like defending her. “You mean that I could stay with you for a while and save. Is that right?” I asked, and he nodded.
“We’re friends,” he reminded me. “You’d do this if I needed it.”
“Sure,” I answered. I would have for anyone.
“Ok. I’ll call the elevator and we can start loading it up,” he said, but that still wasn’t working and I also thought there were a few things to discuss about this idea. “I don’t have time to talk,” he said briefly. “I have to get to the stadium and you have to get the fuck out of here and stop inhaling all this smoke. Let’s go.”
He could carry a lot more than I could and with my sister’s stuff already gone, this move was much easier than when I’d gotten us in here—except for the lack of an elevator. I went up and down the stairs and Everett kept passing me, going at double-time. As he did, I said things like, “I’ll have enough saved very soon for another apartment” and “I’ll be a really good houseguest. I’ll never block your car in the driveway.” He was moving too fast to reply.
“Good,” he said when the bed of the truck was full and my car was also packed up. “I’ll bring all this with me but don’t worry about someone messing with it. No one’s going to bother your stuff at Woodsmen Stadium.” He paused and looked at the guy standing nearby and waving a piece of paper and a pen at him. “Yeah, I’ll sign that for you.” He scrawled something and thefan went away very happy. “Have I already given you the code for my front door?” He said the numbers quickly and I tried to remember them.
“I’ll be at your house when you get home,” I said, so he was clear.
“Exactly. And you’ll stay there. I checked and I absolutely have smoke alarms.”
“Thank you, Everett. Thank you very much for this.”
“Damn. Jesus.” He looked down at me and winced. “You look like you’re going to cry again.”
“It’s relief. It was so awful in that apartment. I understand why Willow wanted to leave so much.” It hadn’t been that she wanted to get away from me, and I hadn’t been a pathetic hanger-on like those women at the beach party had said.
He walked around to the driver’s side and pulled something off his visor. “You should take the garage door opener.” He handed it to me. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you, but you won’t have to see me. You don’t even have to acknowledge that I’m there,” I told him. “I’ll be a really good guest.”
“Let’s eat together when I get back,” he suggested, and I immediately acquiesced.
“I’ll cook something delicious,” I promised. When I’d been over at his house before, I’d seen all the food that he had. If he’d kept up with that kind of grocery purchasing, preparing a meal would be easy. There would be no need to make weird substitutes, like putting water in the milk to make it stretch farther, or not addingbutter because that was too expensive to waste by mixing it into something where you couldn’t even taste it. Since he was eating very nutritious stuff, though, butter was probably still a no. “I’ll cook something really healthy, too.”
