He shoots me a wary look regarding the condition of the sheets, and I laugh. He points to the bathroom.
Ridge: We share the bathroom. Just lock the main door to the hallway and both doors to the bedrooms when you’re in there. I obviously won’t know when you’re in the shower, so unless you want me barging in on you, make sure to lock up.
He walks to the bathroom and flips a light switch on the outside of the door, which turns the lights on and off inside the bathroom, then turns his attention back to the phone.
Ridge: I added switches on the outside because it’s an easy way for someone to get my attention, since I can’t hear a knock. Just flip the switch if you need to come into the bathroom so I’ll know. The whole apartment is set up this way. There’s a switch outside my bedroom door that turns my lights on and off if you need me. But I usually have my phone on me, so there’s always texting.
He shows me where clean sheets are and then cleans out what’s left in the dresser while I put the new sheets on the bed.
“Do I need furniture?”
Ridge shakes his head.
Ridge: He’s leaving it. You can use what’s here.
I nod, taking in the bedroom that has unexpectedly just become my new home. I smile at Ridge to let him know I appreciate his help. “Thank you.”
He smiles back.
Ridge: I’ll be in my room working for the next few hours if you need anything. I have to go to the store this afternoon. You can go with me and get what you need for the apartment.
He backs out of the bedroom and gives me a salute. I sit down on the edge of the bed and salute him back as he shuts the door. I fall back onto the bed and let out a huge sigh of relief.
Now that I have a place to live, all I need is a job. And maybe a car, since Tori and I mostly shared hers. Then maybe I’ll call my parents and tell them I moved.
Or maybe not. I’ll give this place a couple of weeks in order to see how things turn out.
Ridge: Oh, and btw, I didn’t write that on your forehead.
What?
I run to the dresser and look in the mirror for the first time today. Written across my forehead in black ink, it says: Someone wrote on your forehead.
Ridge
Me: Morning. How’s the thesis coming along?
Maggie: Do you want me to sugarcoat it, or are you honestly giving me an opening to vent?
Me: Wide open. Vent away.
Maggie: I’m miserable, Ridge. I hate it. I work on it for hours every day, and I just want to take a bat to my computer and go all Office Space on it. If this thesis were a child, I’d put it up for adoption and not even think twice about it. If this thesis were a cute, fuzzy puppy, I’d drop it off in the middle of a busy intersection and speed away.
Me: And then you would do a U-turn and go back and pick it up and play with it all night.
Maggie: I’m serious, Ridge. I think I’m losing my mind.
Me: Well, you already know what I think.
Maggie: Yes, I know what you think. Let’s not get into that right now.
Me: You’re the one who wanted to vent. You don’t need this kind of stress.
Maggie: Stop.
Me: I can’t, Maggie. You know how I feel, and I’m not keeping my opinion to myself when we both know I’m right.
Maggie: This is exactly why I never whine to you about it, because it always comes back to this same thing. I asked you to stop. Please, Ridge. Stop.
Me: Okay.
Me: I’m sorry.