“Let me know if you need any help.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Her voice was flirty, or at least I thought it was. She disappeared inside without another word. I felt my cheeks flush. There was just something about Grace, something different. But I wasn’t ready to chase after another girl. It was too soon.
3.
Grace
A set of mismatched wire hangers clanged against one another as I hung up my clothes in the closet. I lined up an array of shoes on the floor in front of the window. Pulling open the top drawer of the dresser, I found several pairs of women’s underwear and a sports bra. They were nice brands: Lululemon and SKIMS. Odd. I held up a pair of thong underwear, size small. A previous guest must have left these behind, or perhaps Calvin had a girlfriend. I dropped them back in the drawer and closed it. The next one down was empty, so I filled it with my undergarments, swimsuits, and shorts.
Bringing my stack of books to the desk, I lined them up all on end in the order I planned on reading them. I’m a speed-reader and expected I could finish all five of them before my time was up here.
I planned to start with a light beach read that would be quick and easy to devour. I liked those because they were mindless. After that, I wanted something sad, and this one was guaranteed to make me cry—or so a blurb on the cover said. I figured I should have something that I could learn from as well, so I brought along a self-help book about habits. I had several bad habits that I knew I needed to break and plenty of good ones that I should instill further. Habits ensured one wouldn’t make mistakes. The horror novel I brought promised I’d be frightened, but I’d be the judge of that. It took a lot to scare me. Finally, a thriller. This one promised a twisty ending I wouldn’t see coming. It seemed every thriller promised that these days, but few actually delivered.
After unpacking my makeup, hairstyling tools, and toiletries, I glanced out the bay window above the long dresser. A large crack ran from the lower left corner all the way to the center. I traced it with my finger. The lip of the fractured glass sliced through my skin. Ouch. I brought the wound to my mouth and sucked on it. The pain dissipated quickly. A streak of blood was left behind, stretching a few inches across the glass, causing the landscape beyond it to appear cracked and tinted red. It reminded me of how I saw the city. I had traveled so far to see the world in a different light, but it somehow always looked the same. The sun fell behind the mountains, leaving darkness behind. I had forgotten about the dark. You don’t really have that in the city—too many lights.
Remembering I had promised to text when I arrived, I slid my phone from my pocket. In the upper right-hand corner were the words No Service. I felt a twinge in the pit of my stomach and swallowed hard. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing.
I found Calvin at the stove in the kitchen, cooking up something that wasn’t exactly pleasing to smell—an earthy, meaty, sweet scent. He stirred the pot with a wooden spoon while casually drinking a Bud Light.
“Hey,” I said.
Calvin turned around quickly, startled. A smile crept across his face when he saw me. “Hay is for horses.”
I forced a smile back. “Do you have a Band-Aid?”
He set the spoon down on a folded-up paper towel. “Of course. What happened?”
I held up my finger, and a drop of blood slithered out of the cut. It hadn’t stopped bleeding. “Battle wound from your cracked window.”
“Oh shoot. Sorry about that.” He disappeared down the hall and reappeared moments later with a small first aid kit. “I meant to fix that. Some of my guests aren’t good guests.”
Calvin pulled out a chair and gestured for me to take a seat. He sat kitty-corner and unpacked his kit, pulling out ointment, cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and a Band-Aid. This was clearly not his first time tending to an injury.
“That’s a shame about your window,” I said.
“Don’t worry. They paid for it.” He ripped the corner of the packaging with his teeth and pulled out a tiny folded wipe.
“Do your guests usually get rowdy?” I held out my finger. Droplets of blood oozed from the cut and dripped onto the kitchen table. They immediately seeped into the unfinished wood, leaving behind a stain. Calvin didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care. He wiped it up and continued tending to my wound.
“Only the bad ones,” he said, glancing up at me for a brief moment.
I winced when he pressed a soaked cotton ball of rubbing alcohol on the wound. The stinging lasted only a few seconds.
“Is it uncomfortable having strangers stay in your house?” I asked.
Calvin paused, and his eyes met mine. “They’re only strangers at first,” he said with a serious face before finishing up with a Band-Aid wrapped snuggly around my finger.
“There you are. Good as new.” He let on a smile while he collected his things.
“Thanks.”
Calvin retook his place at the stove, slowly stirring the pot.
“By the way, there’s some women’s clothes in the top drawer of my dresser. I just left them there. Thought you should know.”
He froze for a second. It seemed as though his shoulders tensed up, but I couldn’t be sure. Calvin turned back. “That would be my ex, Lisa.” He folded in his lips and went back to stirring the pot.
I chewed on my words, unsure of what to say, but then they all tumbled out. “You know they say an ex will purposefully leave something behind after a breakup just so they have a reason to come back.”
“Well, I hope that’s not the case.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Because she’s dead,” he said.
I swallowed and broke into a coughing fit. Calvin quickly pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. I understood why he said it in such a matter-of-fact way. That’s what death was. You’re either alive or you’re dead. There is no in-between. He handed the glass to me, and I drank nearly all of it.
“You all right?” he asked, giving me a small pat on the back.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Just swallowed wrong.”
He nodded and returned to the stove.
“I’m sorry about your ex.”
Calvin turned off the burner and took a swig of his beer.
“May I ask how she died?” I added.
“Car accident . . . about a year ago.” He rotated the bottle in his hands a couple of times like he was deciding whether or not to say more. “We had actually broken up the night she died, but I’m sure we would have gotten back together. We always did.” He wasn’t looking at me when he spoke. He was staring at the white wall as if there were something important for him to gaze at.
“I’m sorry, Calvin.” I didn’t know what more to say because I wasn’t good with these sorts of conversations. I had encountered death many times throughout my life but seeing it and talking about it were two very different things.
His eyes swung back to me.
“That’s life, I suppose.” He shrugged and shook his head like his thoughts and feelings were an Etch A Sketch that he could just shake away. “Ya wanna beer?”
The subject was changed.
I nodded. He pulled one from the fridge and popped the top off.