“Memphis? Waylynn?” Oswald calls from downstairs.
“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Stop telling me you’re sorry.” I have the urge to look away again, but he still has his finger under my chin, so I don’t. “I’m happy you told her I’ll be here, but she needs to mind her own business.”
“Where are you guys?” Oswald calls again, but his voice is a little louder.
Memphis leans to the left to say, “Just a minute,” then returns his focus to me. It’s so much easier to look at him when he’s not staring back at me. His eyes are blue, but a darker shade than Oswald’s. I shouldn’t be comparing them, and I certainly shouldn’t be thinking about both of them the way I am. Why do I even like both of them when they are so vastly different?
“Let me know if she or anyone else gives you a problem,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I reply instead of asking what I should do when she asks why he’s never around. I take a quick step back when I hear Oswald on the stairs. I don’t want to have to explain what’s going on between his brother and me, and I don’t want to rehash the stuff with the neighbor.
“What are you guys doing?” From the corner of my eye, I can see Oswald looking between the two of us.
“She was showing me around. This is her room,” Memphis tells his brother without an ounce of hesitance. “She also has a meerkat living next door.”
“Really? You can’t even tell she has neighbors.” Oswald walks over and pulls back my curtain to see my back garden and part of Eddy’s yard. I don’t know if she’s even still out there. “Wow, it looks cool from up here. It’s so symmetrical.” He lets the curtain fall closed and looks around my room.
I follow his gaze, wondering what he thinks. “Her room is bigger than your apartment, bro. You could fit like three beds in here.” Well, that answers my question. He was guesstimating square footage. I suppose that’s better than him checking all my locks. I should probably worry about Memphis, since he seems to be so concerned about my safety.
“Do you have stuff we need to unload?” I walk toward my door, expecting them to follow.
“Nah, it was just a few bags. I left them on the counter,” Oswald replies with his head still swiveling. “Were you watching that or…”
“It’s a good movie,” I defend.
“It is.” Oswald puts his hands in front of his chest, warding me off. “Just not what I would expect you to be chilling with on a Sunday afternoon.”
“I watched it last night.” And many nights before, but I don’t tell him that.
“Just you?” Memphis slowly starts to walk toward me and the door to leave my room, thankfully.
“Yes, other than my parents, you guys and your friend are the only people I’ve had over since I moved in.”
“No one else,” Memphis says as he passes me. It serves as a reminder of our talk in the parking lot when he told me he and Oswald are the only people I should allow over.
“Memphis, you’re making it seem like you don’t believe her,” Oswald says to his brother’s back as he follows him out of my room.
“No, she knows what I meant.” Those words have Oswald bouncing down the stairs after Memphis, looking for clarification about the statement, but Memphis mostly ignores the proddingwhat do you meanquestions.
I trail after them, much more subdued, but I still enjoy having them here, even if they are bossy and nosy like I would imagine older brothers would be. Too bad that’s not how I felt when I was cuddled up next to Memphis or when I look at Oswald.
By the time I join them in the kitchen, Memphis has most of the groceries stowed in the fridge, and Oswald is walking out of the pantry empty-handed. Dang it, I’m hungry, I was hoping we’d eat soon. I glance at the clock and realize it is much too early for dinner, but I can’t wait hours to eat.
“Should I cook the chicken now?” I offer, not wanting to assume they are going to stick around all day.
“Are you trying to get rid of us, Waylynn?” Oswald hops onto one of the chairs pushed up against the island.
“No,” I say too quickly. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to stay here all day, and…I’m hungry,” I admit.
“We can make the chicken later. What do you want now?” Memphis asks, and it feels like he’s going to try to make it for me.
“Do you guys want a sandwich or something?” I look between them on my way over to the fridge.
“I’m always down to eat,” Oswald says, and his tone implies I should already know this.
“Gravlin.” I think about calling him Memphis, but I can’t bring myself to say it out loud, it feels too informal. “Would you like anything?”
