Barry found the switch to the orange lava lamp on my bookshelf and turned it on.
I led Barry into the basement next, clicking on the one creepy lightbulb in the stairway over the wooden stairs. It looked like a horror basement, as it always had. Kate, Jeremy, and I used to dare each other to go downstairs and see who could stand there longest. It usually ended up with one of us in tears. As a kid, I believed that if Bloody Mary was real, she probably lived in that basement. Now, it wasn’t so scary, but it was by no means a hangout spot. I cleaned out my grandparents’ storage when I moved in, so it was empty for the most part, other than the box with my Christmas tree and some seasonal decorations.
There was one finished room with a small bathroom, which my grandpa built in the late eighties for his nephew to stay in when he went to college nearby. It had barely changed since.
I anticipated that one week in that basement would be enough for Barry to decide that he would indeed be better off at his place. Just one week. Or maybe he would hate living with me. I didn’t know what sort of infuriating habits I’d developed in my years of living alone. Probably many.
I swung open the old door and chewed on my lower lip while Barry assessed it. The room was clean, with a twin-sized bed and a nightstand. There wasn’t a closet, but there was a rack with hangers and a dresser that squeaked when you pulled out the drawer. My plan with the room was to gut it, along with the small bathroom attached. The ceilings were lower than they could be, and standing in there with Barry, the room felt even smaller. Looking at it now, it looked every bit as pitiful as I feared.
“No way is this going to work,” I said on an exhale. Barry frowned and dipped his head side to side like it wasn’tso bad. “See, you should stay at your place. Maybe when the guest room is done, but until then you don’t want to stay in this…cell.”
“It looks great,” he said, and sat his massive frame on the side of the twin-sized bed that I knew would be too small for him. The bed squeaked under his weight, and I tried not to face-palm.
If by great he meant condemnable, then yes, it looked terrific.
“I would say you could try the futon in the couch, but it’s shorter than this bed and somehow just as squeaky.”
“I think the bed’s nice,” he said, lying his ass off. He bounced on the mattress, squeaking more. “I brought a blow-up mattress too.”
“Smart.” I wouldn’t want to sleep that close to the old carpet, but I didn’t say so. It had a vague smell if you got too close.
Maybe if we got him a rug it would be okay.
“Is that the bathroom?”
I nodded and followed him into the tiny space. There was a short, old toilet, a standing sink, and a shower stall with a head that went probably a few inches above Barry’s nipples. He stepped inside and after a silent beat, we both laughed at the absurdity of the image.
“You can use the upstairs shower, though it’s not all that much better. Still a work in progress.”
Barry looked around the bathroom and bedroom again. “It’s perfect.”
I snorted and shook my head. “If you say so.”
“Where is the laundry?” he asked when we got back upstairs.
“Ah” I traded my house slippers for the Crocs by the back door. “I’d like to build a nice laundry room in the basement one day, but for now it’s in the garage.”
Barry blinked at this news and followed me wordlessly out the back door and down the cracked concrete path to the garage’s side door. Inside, I patted my palm against the old metal machines up against the insulated wall. Poorly insulated, I’ll say, because it was cold as hell in there. I pointed to the shelf above the machines that housed the soaps and dryer sheets.
“Dryer looks old, but it works pretty well. And you can park your car in here if you want. Until I get a new one.”
“Why don’t you have a car?”
“Well, I did, but I sold it last month. I’m saving for a nicer one. Safer.”
“Makes sense,” he said. “What kind do you want?”
“Not sure yet,” I lied. If I could afford a new car, I knew the model I wanted down to the interior customizations. With the renovations, savings goals, and other expenses, I would be purchasing a used car, for sure, probably Ron’s Toyota when he finally got the new one he wanted.
“I have a clicker, though, you can use it if you want.” I shivered and led him back through the yard to the house.
“Backyard is great,” he said, and I couldn’t help but smile. It really was charming, I had to agree. I loved playing here as a kid, running around playing fairies with Kate, teaching Jeremy how to do a cartwheel, almost breaking my arm on the trampoline that was entirely unsafe but the source of hours of fun. There was a big tree in the middle of the yard that we had picnics under in the summer and a brick retaining wall where we put rows of mud pies.
“I love it,” I agreed. “Shed in the corner has a lawn mower and stuff.
Back in the kitchen, I stood awkwardly while his eyes scanned the knickknack shelf by the door. It was making me itchy watching him look at all my stuff. I had no idea about what he liked, if he thought all my things were kitschy and stupid, or if he found it charming at all. My phone buzzed in my back pocket, and I made vague gestures to the bathroom before retreating there.
I closed and locked the door to pee and realized this was the first time I’d locked the bathroom door, maybe ever. I didn’t even close it when Kate and Jeremy came over, the three of us continuing our conversations with one of us shouting from the open bathroom.
