I made a phone call.
And then I made up my mind.
He’s early.
I’ve barely dried off from my shower when I hear the knock—a little timid at first, then louder, more assured. He isn’t dressed as neatly as I’m used to seeing him. He wears slightly faded blue jeans and a sweatshirt under his brown coat. It’s like he put some thought into not putting thought into it. I think about that day when he washed my motorcycle, to make us even, and how he showed up like he was taking his class picture. He seems so different from back then. And it isn’t even aback then; only a few months have passed. It could be years and years.
“Hey, pal,” I say.
“Hey.” He leans against the door, looking past me at the boxes.
I follow his gaze. “It shouldn’t take too long. I got some charity coming by for some of it.”
He shifts on his feet slightly. “If I paid you, could I take some of it?” He pushes his glasses up. “I’m going to get my own place, and I’ll need some furniture.”
I try to hide a smile. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. I’m saving up.” He stands just a bit taller.
“Well,” I say. “In that case...” I let my thought trail off, and he steps inside, waiting for me to finish but I don’t.
We spend the next hour or so taking stuff out to Glen’s truck. He helps me pack things neatly in the back, and we don’t say much. It’s just lifting and carrying and navigating those twice-damned stairs. Paul is surprisingly strong, however, and we get everything into the truck bed quicker than I’d expected.
I get in the driver’s seat and light up a cigarette, and he gets in beside me. I realize for about the first two miles it will seem that we’re going to my family home before I take a different turn. When I go north instead of east, I glance over at him. He looks perplexed but doesn’t say a thing.
It’s another five or six miles before he leans forward in the seat, and I feel his eyes on me, the spark of recognition. The place looks different with the trees all bare and a white slice of ice over the surface of the lake. And when I pull up to the cabin, where my bike is parked and covered with a tarp, he’s turned to the window so I can’t see his expression.
I park near the door and get out. He gets out with me and watches me as I open the back of the truck, watching as if he expects me to say something, make an announcement. Instead, I grab one of the posts of my headboard and nod for him to give me a hand. We take it inside and lean it against the wall. He stares at the spot where the other bed used to be.
Then he stares at the walls. “Did you paint?”
“Yeah. A little.” I put my hands in my pockets. “Just a little bit.” I nod to the dark gray across from the kitchenette.
His lips don’t smile but his eyes do.
I wipe at some dust on my coat. “There are good memories here. You know?”
The smile spreads to his mouth. “Yeah. I know.”
Once we get everything inside, I give him an abbreviated grand tour. I replaced the dining table with a new one. I took out the armchairs so I could use my own. I watch his face as I show him, watching to see if he realizes what I was attempting to do. I thought it would be clear and I hope it is; I don’t intend to stay here alone.
We find ourselves in the kitchenette where I replaced the stove and put in a refrigerator. Some of the cabinet doors are askew, and I’ll need to fix them. I give him a minute or so to take it all in. It’s a bit unnerving that he’s said nothing so far. I offer him a nudge.
“I bought it.” I gesture around us. “It’s mine.”
He still looks puzzled. Even a bit timid.
So, I clear my throat and explain it to him. The lawyer, the inheritance, and going to see Randy, giving him the cash, our handshake deal. Paul seems to understand, but he’s silent while I talk. I remind myself I came back so unexpectedly, completely unannounced, and for me to assume he’ll be happy, that he’ll jump at the chance, isn’t fair. I should know, better than anyone, how much can change in such a short time.
The thing is, I was hoping that no amount of time would change us.
“You’re really going to stay here?” He reaches out and fingers one of the crooked cabinet doors. He’s so careful about it, so gentle; it has an effect on me.
I light up a cigarette to take the edge off; prepare myself. “Yeah. Live here. Stay here. My home.”
He nudges the cabinet door to straighten it, but it falls back into place.
“I’ll have to fix that,” I say. “When I get some time.”
