The People We Keep(35)
My cut is sort of puffy and the water stings, but when I flex my fingers, I feel like the ice I’ve been carrying in my bones starts to melt.
Adam opens the medicine cabinet, lines up iodine and bandages and medical tape along the side of the sink. He smells like soap and night air and a little bit like Matty, like they use the same shampoo, or maybe that’s just what men smell like when you get close enough.
He pats my hand dry with a cotton ball, squirts iodine over the cut, making yellow-brown splash marks in the sink. He has a small hoop in his left ear. I’m not sure how I missed it before. It’s silver, twisted like a rope, tarnished in a way that looks cool.
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
“It’s fine.” My voice sounds so small. I try to keep my hands steady, but my knees start shaking, like the movement has to go somewhere.
Adam pats my hand dry again with a new cotton ball, then wraps it with careful turns of the bandage roll and just the right amount of tape. “Good as new.”
All the blood in my body rushes to my cheeks. Our eyes meet and there’s this funny flash in my brain. He has very nice green eyes.
He turns away to rinse out the sink.
The floor is tiled with all these tiny tiles. Black and white octagons, and the grout between them is grey, but I don’t think it’s mold or dirt. I think it’s supposed to be that color, since everything else is so clean. Being here is better than another cold night. Maybe all of this is fine even if that closed door is a closet.
“Thank you,” I say.
Adam puts the iodine in the medicine cabinet. “You hungry?” he asks. Looks over at me. Our eyes meet again.
I touch his cheek with my good hand, press my lips to his and feel the heat of him all the way to my toes.
He opens his mouth. I open mine, inch my tongue toward his, but he’s pulling away.
“No. Don’t—” He takes a step back like he thinks I’ll kiss him again if he doesn’t make extra space between us. “That’s not—” He shakes his head.
My throat cramps so hard I can barely breathe. I push past him, out the bathroom door to the living room to grab my boots.
“Hey,” Adam calls, following. “Don’t go. You don’t have to—that’s not…” He stares at me, eyes wide. “Just wait. Wait, okay?”
He goes into the kitchen. I stand by the door, holding my boots. I don’t know what I’m waiting for and the curiosity keeps me from leaving even though I’m burning all over from how embarrassed I am.
Adam comes back with his calzone split onto two plates. “Will you stay?”
I shake my head. Step into a boot. I don’t know what I thought he’d get from the kitchen that would make this okay. I can’t even look at his face. I slip my other foot in its boot, don’t bother tying laces.
“Please?” he says. “I’m going to go in my room to eat and sleep and you can have this whole place to yourself.”
He pushes a plate at me and even though the cheese is cold and congealed now, it smells amazing. I am too hungry to refuse.
He says good night and that I can come get him if I need anything, like it’s settled that I’ll stay and eat and sleep on that futon by myself. Then he goes into his bedroom and shuts the door.
I eat fast, standing away from the futon so I won’t spill on anything but myself. Then I kick my boots off but leave all my clothes on. I don’t make the bed, just throw down the sheet and lie on top of it. Pull the blanket over me and try to take up as little space as I can, like sleeping on half the futon will be half the burden. I thought I understood and I don’t and I have that math class feeling in my chest. The tightness pulls in on me and my insides might pop like a balloon in a vise. In my head, I kiss him over and over. His lips are chapped, but mostly soft. That horrified look on his face. My thoughts are too bright and loud for me to fall asleep. But I’m warm. At least I am warm, and my hand feels a little bit better.
* * *
When the sky is just beginning to turn blue, I fold the blankets and sheets, stack the pillows next to them. I don’t think I can push the futon back into a couch myself. I worry it will make noise if I try, so I leave it. Tiptoe into the kitchen to place my plate in the sink, then I sneak out the door, carrying my boots down the stairs so my footsteps won’t make noise.
I drive to The Commons, park one street over from yesterday. Maybe today I’ll get up the nerve to ask Carly about her couch. Today is also the day we get paid and divvy up the tip jar and I don’t know how much money it will be, but maybe it’s enough. Maybe one of those Xeroxed posters with the fringed edge will have a phone number I can call, a room I can rent for cheap. Or maybe I’ll buy a map and drive away to find someplace new, where I haven’t humiliated myself yet.
I sit on a bench across from Decadence and wait for it to open. The clouds break apart and a beam of sun shines through. I close my eyes and pretend I can absorb the light like a sunflower.
When I open my eyes again, Adam is walking toward me. I want to get up and walk away, but he sees me see him, so there’s no exit that isn’t awkward.
“Hey,” he calls, with a bend in his voice like he’s worried. “You didn’t have to leave. I was going to make pancakes.”
In the sunlight, I can see the freckles on his nose. The chapped skin on his lips that I felt with my own. He looks kind. Normal. And I feel terrible for all the things I thought he could be.