Breakfast was delicious. How could it not be with homemade waffles and bacon? What made it really special was how he cut my waffles into strips and provided a little cup of syrup for me to dip them in, how he filled my sippy cup, and how he wiped my face with a napkin. They were very little things, but our conversation was big, talking about whether I wanted him to do each of those things at each step of the way.
“I like this,” I said, gathering up the plates. “I like how we used today to learn about each other.”
“I did, too. I liked last night, as well.”
My gaze hit the floor, and my ears burned. It was easy to get me bashful, apparently.
“I was thinking,” I said. “Next time, maybe I could be little at my place and be more immersed in little space? I have my toys, my clothes. It’s not as nice as your place, but what do you think?”
“I think that sounds wonderful.”
We spent the rest of the morning and into the early afternoon watching the movie we’d planned on watching last night. We were snuggling together, enjoying the company with no pressure. It was the perfect way to end our date, which all too soon had to come to an end. It was laundry day, and unfortunately, if I missed it, I would not make it through the week with my work clothes.
Daddy insisted on driving me home, and I insisted on him dropping me off at the curb so he wouldn’t have to deal with parking. I hated saying goodbye to him, but I did. It was better to do it there than have to watch him walk away from my door.
We might have just been getting to know each other, but I was already in so deep. I wasn’t scared about it at all, which was surprising. It felt right. August was my person. I could only hope that I was his, too.
Chapter Twelve
August
I hadn’t heard from Hal since he went home on Sunday, and it was Wednesday. I kept expecting to run into him in the elevator or a hallway, but nothing. Since our first date, we’d spoken or texted just about every day, so of course I began to question myself and whether I had done something wrong.
No question he’d wanted to sleep with me. We were both trying to be as straightforward with one another as possible, and if he was no longer interested, he could have just sent a short text. Not a great breakup but certainly honest.
I’d sent him a friendly message each of those days. Not pushy or demanding but certainly something that could have been replied to with a similar greeting without saying too much. But he didn’t. Keeping work life separate from personal could be a real challenge. Although I did not have direct supervision of him, I needed to keep from stepping over the line.
And I did very well with that, at least on the outside, until today when I became too concerned to wait any longer, and I hopped over the line and landed on the other side. Which just meant opening my laptop and going into the personnel records. Then I cursed softly under my breath and took the rest of the week off. Hal had called in sick Monday, Tuesday, and today. A quick scan showed he almost never took a day off, so he must be feeling pretty bad to be out so long.
Riding down in the elevator, I made a grocery list in my phone, and as soon as I escaped from the parking garage, I zoomed right to the supermarket where I should be able to find most if not all of what I wanted.
It seemed to take forever as I cruised up and down the aisles checking things off my list. I didn’t know precisely what waswrong with him, but going on the premise that it was some sort of virus, I bought OTCs for both the stomach and congestion variety of illness. Tissues, cough medicine, flue fighters for day and night, Pepto, anything I could think of. Even a vaporizer. And VapoRub.
Then I headed to the opposite side of the market and loaded in freshly made chicken noodle soup from the deli, crackers, Jell-O, orange juice, and a whole array of little foods that he might like if his stomach could tolerate it. A quick stop by my place for an overnight bag because I hoped he’d let me stay until he felt better, and I was finally on my way.
His building was not fancy but not ghetto either. Just the kind of place someone working their way up in a company might live until they could afford a house. Clean, decently maintained landscaping, but nobody would ever accuse him of living above his means. I left my overnight bag in the car so he wouldn’t think I was assuming anything, but the three paper grocery bags were coming up with me.
I wanted him to have a better home. But we weren’t anywhere near my having the right to suggest something like that. For now—I climbed the steps to his apartment—I would be satisfied with taking care of him as much as he was willing to allow.
At first, no answer came to my knock, but after being persistent, I heard the shuffling footfalls approaching and the door opened. He was a wreck, pale, with a four-day scruff, and the whole house smelled musty. His pajamas were definitely not fresh this morning, and he’d covered the rumpled flannel with a blanket around his shoulders.
“Oh no.” I set down my bags just inside the door and wrapped my arms around my shivering boy. “Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come right away.”
“You’re going to catch it.” He tried to shrug away, but I held on tight.
“You’re probably not still contagious, but I have an iron constitution anyway. Show me the way to the kitchen and I’ll get the soup on the stove then we’ll get you cleaned up and comfortable.”
“Honestly, I’m okay. You didn’t need to come over.”
“I think I did. So…the kitchen?”
He tucked the blanket tighter around his shoulders and pointed to the left.
“You sit down and let me get organized. I’ll be right back.” This time, I got no argument, and after putting all the perishables in the refrigerator and dealing with all the rest of my purchases, I filled a saucepan with soup and set it on low to heat. “Ready for a hot shower, Hal?” I returned to the living room and found him sitting as I’d requested, but he was in no shape to shower or anything else.
Poor guy was lying on the sofa, sound asleep, the blanket on the floor next to him. I really thought he’d feel better if I got him cleaned up and into bed, but my grandma always said sleep was the great healer, so after covering him up again, I returned to the kitchen, turned off the stove, and found my way to the bedroom. If he’d been sick for days, his bedding was going to need washing, and I expected his bathroom to be in need of a good sanitizing and polishing as well. No better time than now.
I found a set of fresh sheets in the closet as well as a down comforter in a plastic bag. No doubt he only used it in winter, but his current blankets needed a good wash, so down it was. Bundling the used bedding, I bagged it all to be washed and started on the bathroom. It wasn’t dirty or anything, but I was much happier knowing I’d slayed all the germs possible, giving my boy a clean place to shower or bathe.
