I slept like a baby that night. I’d had number four to myself before, but Grizz was always still nearby. Now I had three whole days to myself. The next morning, I got up and pretty much played housewife. I wouldn’t let myself think about the night before. I pretended I was in my own little apartment as I did all the chores. I had started doing most of them anyway, and I think Chicky and Moe appreciated it, but Willow didn’t. Taking care of Grizz was the one thing she liked to do, though I think she was feeling somewhat self-conscious after losing that front tooth. She visited the pit regularly, but eventually stopped coming by number four. I busied myself with dusting, sweeping, scrubbing the bathroom. One of the units had a washer and dryer. I did some laundry. I even cleaned out the refrigerator.
After an hour and a half I was bored stiff. What was I going to do with myself? I knew Grizz said I could leave the grounds with Grunt, but I didn’t know if I could face him. My feelings were so conflicted.
But the more I thought about it, the madder I got. It occurred to me that maybe the only reason Grizz said I could leave with Grunt was because he didn’t think I would. After all, I’d told them both I hated them when I woke up. That was it. Grizz was certain my hatred wouldn’t let me take him up on the offer to leave. Well, I would show him.
I certainly wasn’t happy with Grunt. I mean, let’s face it. Was I supposed to thank him for “raping me nicely”? It sounded ludicrous. But my boredom and restlessness won out over anger and pride, and I found myself knocking on his door by ten o’clock that morning.
He answered wearing nothing but a pair of jeans. I was speechless. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t Grunt wearing only his jeans. I had never seen him with his shirt off before, and I guess I expected a skinny kid body. He wasn’t big, but he wasn’t skinny by any means. He was toned and had a taut stomach that showed his abs. His arms were not as gigantic as Grizz’s, but they were definitely muscular.
I hadn’t given much notice to Grunt’s looks before, but as I stared I realized he was really a good-looking guy. He was about five foot nine inches tall. I’d say he weighed around a hundred and seventy pounds. He had dark hair and brown eyes that had green flecks. He had a tall forehead like me, which had always been my reason for wearing bangs, but on him, it was nice. For the first time, I noticed two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear. I was certain he’d never worn them before. Grizz had an earring, too. I’d seen guys with earrings at Woodstock, but in the seventies it still wasn’t that common. Especially two.
But what caught my attention the most, though, was his tattoo. Grunt’s arms and neck weren’t covered in tattoos like everybody else’s—even the women. Grunt had one tattoo. It was of a huge bird, its head facing down the side of his right arm, not quite reaching his elbow. Its wings were fanned out down the inside of his arm and across his chest. They were massive and covered most of his chest in a sweeping arrangement. Right below the bird’s wing was a serious scar; I wondered if it was from his childhood abuse.
He didn’t say anything to me, just turned and walked back into the room. I followed and couldn’t help but notice the tattoo continued onto his back. It was like this bird had its wings wrapped around him. It was beautiful.
“Wow. Your tattoo is really nice,” I managed to say. He didn’t answer me but walked over to his stereo and turned it off. I hadn’t noticed anything was even playing. I had been so distracted by his body and tattoo.
He looked at me then. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine I guess.” Before he could say anything else, I added, “Grizz said you could take me out. Off the motel grounds. Did you know that?”
“Blue told me.”
“Will you? Will you take me out somewhere? Anywhere?”
“I don’t know. It could turn bad. Probably not a good idea.”
“Look, I thought we were friends. I thought we made a connection.”
He raised an eyebrow at this. “Thought you hated me.”
“I thought I did too when I woke up. Look at it from my standpoint, Grunt. I woke up and you and Grizz were standing there. I knew you must have dressed me and covered me up. It was humiliating. But can’t we just forget it and move on? I’m dying to do something. Anything. Please?”
He smiled then and said to give him ten minutes to shower and change. He told me I could look through his albums and put on whatever I wanted.
Grunt had a ton of albums, and I settled on something from Fleetwood Mac. I sat on the edge of the bed and started to look around the room. The first time I was there I was fascinated by the bookshelf and didn’t pay much attention to anything else. Now my eye caught a stack of mail on his nightstand. Mail? He gets mail here?
I could still hear the shower running so I went and picked up the letters. They were all addressed to Michael Freeman. Michael Freeman? That’s his name? I could have sworn I heard a different name when I was losing consciousness. I noticed they all were from different educational institutions and addressed to a post office box in Davie. Davie wasn’t really developed back then. It was more like a little country town for people who loved horses. It was as rural as you were going to get in South Florida and was just east of where I was now. So Davie had a post office and that’s where he got his mail. My mind filed away the information. Interesting.
I didn’t realize the shower had turned off. I didn’t even hear him open the bathroom door and come out. When I realized he was watching me, I jumped and laid the mail back on his nightstand.
“Your real name is Michael Freeman? I thought you said it was—”
“It’s not Michael Freeman,” he said quickly, cutting me off. “It’s an alias, Kit. I needed to have an alias to be able to still exist. I couldn’t use my real name because, well, you know we don’t use real names here, but also because I’m the kid who’s been missing for six years. Probably presumed kidnapped and murdered by the person who killed my family.”
“Why do you need an alias, anyway?”
“Well, I could hardly apply for college with the name Grunt, could I?”
“College? You’re applying to college? How are you going to do that?”
“After I became Michael Freeman, I finished high school through a correspondence course.”
“How could you finish high school? What are you, in tenth or eleventh grade, maybe?”
“Well, I should be in eleventh grade, but I’m not. I’m a junior at Cole University.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re in college? You already go to college?”
“Yes, I go to college and yes, I’m young for that, but I’ve always been pretty smart and I want to make something of myself.”
“How can you be that smart? You told me what your childhood was like. How did you live like that and still flourish?”
Again, the raised eyebrow. He walked over and picked up the stack of letters and pulled one out. He opened it and handed me one single page. I’m certain my mouth dropped open as I read what was neatly typed. It was from a testing facility, congratulating Michael Freeman on his IQ test scores.
Apparently, my new buddy Grunt was a real honest-to-God genius.