Sweet Forty-Two(22)

Light.

God, the light. Windows from the front and side were like broken dams, flooding the room with bright Pacific sun. The large rectangular space looked more Cape Cod than La Jolla. The floors were bamboo and the walls were distressed wood planks, painted white.

Blue.

The back wall looked blue, but that was a window that canvassed the perfect sky and ocean. Their meeting point was the furthest point in my new living room. There was a small galley kitchen to the left, and I assumed a bedroom and bathroom on the right, but I just stood at the window, breathing in the enormity of it all.

“I can’t afford this.” I shook my head and turned my back to the view, not wanting to torture myself.

Georgia met me at the window, wrapped her tiny hand around my bicep and turned me around again. “You haven’t even asked how much it is.”

I wondered if she could feel my pulse pick up as she stood silently gazing out the window with me. Her hand still wrapped around me.

“The ocean might be blue, G, but it bleeds green. You lived on the other coast, you know that.”

“Did you just call me G?” She looked up, but wasn’t blushing like she did when I’d caught her checking me out in my shorts earlier.

“I did.” It slipped out, but felt natural. Maybe it was because that’s typically how CJ referred to her.

The skin around her eyes creased a little, as if she were smiling, but her mouth didn’t turn up. “Please take it.”

“How much is it?” I winced, bracing for the huge price tag. I had a shitload of money in savings, but wasn’t interested in blowing through it inside of a year on rent alone.

Her head tilted to the side as her eyes narrowed in thought. After half a second she spoke. “How much can you afford?”

“That’s hardly an answer.”

“It most certainly is an answer.” She started bouncing on her toes like she was a child waiting in line for a balloon animal.

I sighed. “It’s not an answer to that kind of question.”

“And why not?”

Our conversation was making me dizzy.

“Don’t get all flustered. Let’s go ask the owner of the building.”

“Oh, they’re here? I figured since you had the keys they wouldn’t be here.”

“We’re early, remember? Sunrise headstands and whatnot?”

I laughed. “Yeah.”

Georgia slid her hand down my arm and locked it around my wrist as she led me through the apartment. This was the brightest I’d ever seen her. Excitement looked good on her.

She dropped my arm as she knocked on the door to apartment A, bouncing from foot to foot. Knocking one more time with a huge smile on her face, she animatedly rolled her eyes, and fished another key from her shallow pockets.

“Did you say you lived across the hall?”

She turned the key. “I don’t have keys to anyone else’s apartment...”

I felt more confused with each second I spent with her. She was like this Rubik’s Cube that changed patterns around each turn. Impossible. I wanted to try to solve her, though. I hadn’t sorted out if that was a good thing or a bad thing before the door flew open.

Her eyebrow arched, teeth biting back a huge smile.

What?

I stood with my mouth open, eyes searching the apartment behind her, and she laughed. “This is my building, Regan.”

What?

“You live here, yeah...”

She stepped back, holding the door open and waving me in. “My building as in, yes, I live here, and I own it.”

While the layout of this apartment was the same as the one across the hall, it was fully decorated. A cream colored couch was up against a bright aqua wall. Fishing line ran the length of the apartment, suspended five or so inches from the ceiling. There were four rows of it, and woven between them were bright sheer scarves. Yellows, blues, greens ... I felt like I was in some sort of fairytale.

My words were coming out a few seconds apart. “The whole building? How in the hell? What?”

She giggled. For the first time in the few short days that I’d known her, she let out what could only be described as a giggle. I didn’t call her on it, though. She’d have kicked my ass.

“Yes, the whole building. It was my dad’s. He bought it like twenty years ago. When he died, I got it.”

This was the first I’d heard her talk about either of her parents.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize he’d passed away. CJ didn’t tell me.”

My pockets were all bunched up inside, fumbling my attempt to nonchalantly do something with my hands. I always had to be productive with my hands, especially in awkward situations. Music was the perfect outlet for that, but this was hardly the time for a violin solo.

“No worries, I just told CJ last night, anyway. Not his fault.” Georgia walked deeper into her apartment and held her arms out. “So, you see, this place is nearly identical to yours. My dad had it all as one space, but six months ago I had it renovated into two units. I didn’t need all the space. And, the rent will help with ... life.”

“What about your mom?”

Her shoulders stiffened for a split second before her exhale. “Gone.”

“I’m so sorry.” I met her at her picture window. My hand hovered over the small of her back, but I hesitated, instead brushing it across her shoulder blades.