10

“You don’t have enough money with you, do

you?” I probed softly after a moment during which

his cheeks had turned pink.

“No.” He swallowed again. “And in case you are

about to offer me a drive, please don’t.”

“To quote you, what’s the alternative?” Silence.

“If I drive you home, will there be someone waiting

for you?”

Blake gritted his funny-looking teeth and said

nothing while I felt my own teeth sink into my

lower lip, a habit I had thought long broken but

that I had evidently engaged just not in lately, for

lack of opportunity. No, I wouldn’t pry any further.

He clearly didn’t want to share, and prodding him

would come across as pushy if not outright weird. I

had done for him what I could, and yet, I heard myself blurt before I managed to snatch back the

words by their collar:

“I don’t feel comfortable leaving you by yourself.”

This time his chuckle was devoid of all humour.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll find a beam strong

enough to hang myself from and I won’t be able to

slit my wrists off either since I would never get the

razor blade through all this fat.” He lifted his

chubby arm, his visible upper arm flabbily dangled,

while his eyes challenged mine to comment.

Although my tongue did not, other parts of my

body certainly did, and I clamped my thighs shut

again before I got up to both cleanup and put my

unsuspecting tormentor out of my sight. It was of no use. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I

spent carrying the dishes over to the kitchen area.

At last, I was able to exhale a few loud breaths over

the sound of water rushing into the big pot in the

sink. Suddenly I felt the back of my neck prickle

with Blake’s presence, realizing that: I hadn’t heard

him get up over the sound of the running water and

my lower arms and hands were exposed because I

had pushed up my sleeves. I whirled around in

panic, shielding my hands behind my back.

“Ela? I’m sorry, I— “

I jumped when I saw him step closer. He might

not even have meant to touch me but I could never

be too careful. Even though Blake’s round face

shuttered at once, I briefly caught the pain in his

eyes I now knew to be a blend of blue and green.

“No, I’m sorry— “

He held up a plump palm. “Don’t bother, I get

it.”

He retreated back to the bathroom, presumably

to check on the progress of his clothes. His wide

hips roughly brushed the doorway. If my cheeks

felt warm before, they positively went up in flames

at the sight. Then Blake returned, his clothes probably in the dryer now, not meeting my eyes. I wished

I could explain my reaction to him but there was no

way.

“I assume you'll put me up on the couch tonight,

right?” he grumbled, barely looking at me. I only

nodded. “Just point me to the closet with the sheets and I’ll take care of it. You’ve done more than

enough.”

It didn’t feel like a compliment. With one frightened jump, I had destroyed the bit of trust I

thought had blossomed between us, and possibly

his will to live, too. He wasn’t my responsibility but

I needed to leave a mark on this world that wasn’t a

blister or a scar. He needed to stay alive.

“The bedding is in my bedroom. I’ll get it.”

Blake accepted the bedding from me without

much a thank you, and although, I tried to make

myself busy by doing the dishes, I couldn’t help but

glance over my shoulder occasionally. He'd pulled

back the low table in order to unfold the couch,

huffing as he bent over the massive rolls that

formed his mid-section while taking care to hold

the blankets in place. Unable to bear the sight of his

quivering mass and the sound of his laboured

breathing any longer, I hastily finished up the dishes

and fled to the bathroom.

A splash and a cold sensation in my thick pairs of

socks brought me up short: Blake had positively

flooded the bathroom floor, plus left his towel on

the floor in a sodden heap. The hair dryer was still

sitting on the sink, and instantly a haze of emotional confusion lifted. Although I managed to lay

out a toothbrush for the violator of basic human

cleanliness, that was where my role as a gracious

hostess stopped. After I had mopped up the floor,

wrung out and hung the towel, I marched back into

the living area. Even making allowances for his

state of mind and hypothermia, his manners had been nothing but lacking, even after he had recovered from the worst. Although he had only been in

my carefully ordered life for two hours, I already

felt undone.

“You know; the least you can do when you’re in

somebody else’s house is be neat. You don’t flood

other people’s bathrooms or drop their towels on

the flooded floor, and you always at least offer to

take off your shoes before entering. And that is no

way to make a bed either!” I finished my heated

tirade with a contemptuous look at the mess on the

couch.

I glared at the astonished-looking man until he

moved aside and I could tuck in the corners of the

bed sheet neatly and shake the duvet in its case so it

didn’t bunch up on one side and remain empty on

the other. I garnished my work with another scowl

and just when he opened his mouth, I messed everything up again. “Now you do it.”

My chin stayed up until he complied, looking surprised at himself. Again, he struggled with the task

of bending over but finished at last.

“There you go! There’s a fresh toothbrush for

you in the bathroom. Good night,” I said to him

and indeed, it turned out to be a goodnight hence-forth.