Room-maid(75)

He was going to kick me out. I was going to lose my apartment, Pigeon, and, most importantly, I was going to lose him.

Curling up into a ball, I kept crying. This was so stupid. It was so stupid to be this upset. Pigeon lay next to me, warming my body with hers. Which, for some reason, made me cry even harder. My chest started to ache, my lungs to burn, and my eyes became swollen and sore.

That was how Tyler found me.

“Hey, Madison? Why does it smell like bleach in here? And what happened to the couch?” His voice came closer and I felt him get down on the floor next to me. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“I’m a terrible person!” I lamented. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, too humiliated to even look at him.

His strong hand rubbed my back, trying to comfort me. “Why do you think you’re a terrible person?”

“Because I ruined your couch!”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” I wailed. “You don’t understand. I don’t know how to clean.”

“What?” He sounded so confused.

“You said you needed someone to move in and clean up. And I had never cleaned anything in my entire life. I messed up so many times! I made the dishwasher shoot out bubbles because I put dishwashing liquid soap in it and then I put your cast-iron pan in there and had to buy you a new one—”

“You did?”

“Yes! And I almost wrecked the vacuum I don’t know how many times and I cleaned the windows with Dawn and the bathroom mirror with all-purpose cleaner and I sucked a sock into the dryer and had to have a repairman fix it and then . . . then I forgot to close your closet door and Pigeon chewed up one of your shoes! I had to replace them and they were over a thousand dollars. The ones you thought were too tight.”

“I bought those shoes used at a consignment store right out of college and they’ve held up really well. But I don’t think they were worth a thousand dollars.”

I howled, “Now you tell me!”

“How did you pay for all that?”

“It’s why I’m broke. And my sister had to lend me the money for your shoes.”

He went silent and I knew he had to be regretting asking me to move in here. I was a liar and a destroyer of his nice things and he should have a roommate who wasn’t either of those.

I announced, “And now . . . I’m going to sell my Birkin bag so that I can replace your couch.”

“The bag your grandma gave you for graduation?”

“Yes. And then I’ll move out and you can bring in someone who won’t mess up your stuff and hide it from you and who will clean everything perfectly.”

“I didn’t ask you to move in here because I wanted some expert cleaner. I invited you to stay because I liked you and you seemed like you needed the help.”

Why did he have to be so wonderful? “That is so much worse!” I sniffed. “Do you hate me?”

His hand moved to my shoulder. “Madison.”

I didn’t move.

“Look at me,” he said gently. I shook my head. I wanted to screw my eyelids shut even tighter. I couldn’t bear how often I had deceived him. “Madison.”

Sighing, I relented. I opened my eyes and there was so much goodness in his gaze I wanted to start crying again.

“I could never hate you.”

“But I lied to you. About Brad, about cleaning, about your things I ruined.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I understand why you did it. I know you felt desperate that day and desperation can drive people to do crazy things. Come here.”

Then he pulled my arm up until he was hugging me. This felt so good, so right. I knew he was only being friendly, but this was where I wanted to be. In his arms. He felt like home. Not the horrible one I’d grown up in, but the one I’d always imagined for myself, where I would be safe, loved, and happy.

Resting my head against his shoulder, I let him soothe me. He stroked my hair and it was wonderful.

“I’ve felt so awful. I wanted to tell you everything but I was afraid.”

“I’m glad you told me now.” There was a beat and then he asked, “So what did happen with the couch?”

I explained how I’d cut my hand and that I thought I was supposed to use bleach to clean up blood, which I was kicking myself for. I should have looked it up online instead of blindly panicking. How Pigeon had bumped into my arm and the bottle had spilled and that I’d tried my best to keep her away from the bleach. “I didn’t know if it could hurt her. And I don’t know how much the couch costs, but I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it. It sounds like it was partly Pidge’s fault anyway and she’s my responsibility.”

“No, I should contribute.”

“You do contribute,” he said, his voice sounding low and serious. “In more ways than you know.”

This was no time for me to try and search for hidden subtext. “I mean, I need to pay you back for replacing it.”

“You’re not going to sell your purse,” he told me. “So forget about that.” He even took the bag out of my hands, as if I were going to run to my computer and post it on some auction website. “If it’s that important to you, we can work out a payment plan. Later. When your budget involves less dragon’s blood purchases.”