Page 29 of Dirty Chorus

“Well, darling, he needs a nice girl. I don’t want him to be lonely when I’m gone,” he says. “I caught him sleeping on the couch this morning. He’s downstairs if you wanna see him.”

He scoots the chair out and places both hands on the table as he steadies himself up and starts scuffling down the hallway. A strange feeling slithers up my spine, and I’m worried. I pay close attention as he reaches the bathroom, flicks the light on, and glances down at the floor. “Oh... oh, it’s wet.” The sound of his frail voice is in a panic.

Oh shoot. I scoot the chair out and rush over to the bathroom and notice I left puddles all over the floor. The mirror is still a bit foggy. The counters were soaking wet and dripping as I really did go downtown after brushing my teeth.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry.” I race into the bedroom, where I had thrown the damp towel on the floor, and gather it in my arms. Once I head back to the bathroom, I get on my knees with the towel, wiping up every little wet spot I can find. He uses both hands in the doorway to keep himself steady, breathing hard, watching my every move. “Right there by the toilet.” A trembling finger shakes.

“Okay, okay!” I take the towel and tackle it.

“Hey, gramps. You okay?” Noah asks, and I turn around seeing him grasp his shoulder. I hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Yeah, yeah, she's drying the floor, you see.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I say.

Noah squeezes past his grandfather and kneels down, taking the towel, and he smiles with gentle eyes. They’re so pretty, those dark brown irises.

“I got it. I’ll help him,” he whispers.

“Okay. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” I let Noah take the towel, and I use two hands to stand up, stepping out as Noah helps his grandfather into the bathroom and shuts the door behind them. I go and sit back down in the chair, glaring at the steam swirling out of my mug before taking a long sip.

It’s about ten to fifteen minutes before I hear the flush, and Noah shutting off the light as his grandfather shuffles back over to the table. There’s a faint smile when Noah comes into the kitchen, opens the fridge, grabs strawberries and blackberries. He brings out a small container of vanilla yogurt, scooping it into a bowl, and sprinkling in chopped fruit. He places it in front of his grandfather, who smacks his lips, looking famished.

“You wanna come downstairs with me? I’ll show you the record store.” Noah dips his head to the front door. I bite my bottom lip and nod. With a shy wave and a small smile to his grandfather, I follow him out and climb down the steep and damp concrete steps.

The morning air is chilly in the shady area of the building. I round the corner to the front entrance. The bell chimes above us, and I’m overwhelmed with the faded scent of cigarette smoke. There are rows and rows of music, even an area with a collection of vinyl with beaten-up covers.

There are bright orange price tags, and I can tell the music has been loved at some point in life. Even the walls are covered with posters of different rock bands. Noah strolls over to the faded white cash register, using a key to unlock the drawer. He licks the tips of his fingers, whispering as he counts the money.

“So you work here?” I ask him. I feel like the question rips out stitches with the sad expression on his face.

Noah neatly organizes the money, and the register dings as he closes the drawer. “Yeah.” He leans over the glass display case, and there's a little voice in my head telling me I have invaded something extremely secret and personal. “I don’t bring girls here, or anyone other than my bandmates.”

I rub my upper arm and say, “I’m sorry about last night.”

My face falls to the stained carpet below. It’s clearly been tortured over the years. The bell chimes at the entrance as a couple walks in.

“Maybe the guys you hang out with would sleep with you in that state. But I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, you’re beautiful. I just...” he pauses, rolling his bottom lip.

“I probably seemed desperate.” I swallow the truth lodged in my throat.

“Not even.”

I rub my upper arm and say, “I haven’t slept with anyone before.”

Noah furrows his brow. “No one?”

“No.”

“Wait... you’re a...”

“Yeah...” I don’t even have to say the word. “I guess a half-virgin. I’ve...” I pause and shrug my shoulders with an embarrassed smile. “I’ve done a few things. Nothing too exciting.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes softening a bit.

“Well, did you have fun last night? You know, at the concert?”

“Yeah, I did.” My heart starts racing. I tuck a string of hair behind my ear. “And you’re a...” I pause for a second.