Chapter 2
I took the day off to help decorate the basement as the screening would be starting this week. I usually would hire a cleaner, but today, I wanted to clear every last crumb that Carl had left behind. The army boy himself had the poorest diet I knew with empty pot noodles, crisps half eaten, chocolates melted, and hard, processed pizza boxes stacked like cards: I counted 10.
Cans of coke, pepsi, sprite, fanta, were squished and chucked into a white plastic bag where he placed all his rubbish. He had left in a hurry because I didn’t want him here anymore. Me and Taylor … our friendship was too strong to … I throw some of his tops into a bag, undies, a smelly sweater, and broken dog tags. He forgot his hard-toe shoes too. He’ll be back. And I won’t be here.
I plugged in my pink Henry-hoover and made it snappy. No traces would be left. He had coins all over the place and I made up almost one pound and a couple of pence. The room became more bearable. His presence was leaving. He read, but car magazines and newspaper betting clips on the horses.
I changed the sheets, and that’s when a photo fell as I shook it to fold and put in the wash. I bent down to pick it up: the photograph was of me. “That’s where it went to?” It was a photo taken when I had visited Kansas for a month. I took it just as I landed. I’d never been so happy, and it was one of my favorites. It had gone missing, and I suspected it was Carl but never confronted him about it.
I placed it down to take letter on-top of Henry; switched it off because it was too noisy. And then instantly heard the door knock. I ran up the stairs to see who it was. I was pretty sure that screening didn’t start today. The room wasn’t ready yet. I opened it … “Uh.” Then closed it. Then opened it again and nearly lost my breathe at what I saw standing before me.
He must’ve been at least 5’9 with a black tank and a string Adidas bag slung over his right shoulder. I could tell he was well built: solid and sturdy on his feet. His brows had that arch that made him look pissed off, but it suited his demeanor with his pinched in cheekbones and triangular cheeks. I would go as far to call him model looking, but that would be too much on that ego that he already had by the looks of him.
I was intrigued more than eager to let him in. Too much like Carl. To similar. No. No. No. I can’t. He must be here for the room. Why else? “Can I help?”
“Um. I’ve come to inquire about the room? I phoned this number?” A confident-sounding guy. The number he showed me on his phone was Taylors.
“Oh.” I could kill that girl. “Did she mention that the room wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow?”
“No. She said to come on over and somebody would be there.”
“Did she see a picture of you?” I had to ask. Taylor was very picky. We only ever got his type here.
“No.”
I sigh deep down inside. “Well, you’re free to come and have a look at the place. I’m sure you have all the details?”
“Some of them.”
“Ok. Come in. Come in.”
Once he stepped in. I stepped back. I almost had a run-in with his bare arm. And that would be electrically mortifying for me. I tried to concentrate when he walked into the living area. “What’s your name?”
“Stanley Morgan.”
“Ok.” He doesn’t look like a Stanley. More a captain America with dark skin and a very shaved head. Balder than a crystal ball. But it suits him. “I’m Megan Mitchel.” Should I shake his hand? Should I not? I awkwardly do. It takes him by surprise. He stares down at it like it’s an alien trying to make his acquaintance. I find myself getting rather hot and bothered over it. Why won’t he just shake my hand? Take it? Do I have bacteria on them? What’s the issue? I get so worked up over little things.
The front door opens and helps to break the ice for me and Stanley. Taylor’s home with some roses in a vase of water. “I have a secret admirer.” She’s about to brag and boast about it, but she spots Stanley and her eyes go right to where they aren’t supposed to: down to the point of having to go to confessional next Sunday. The priest wouldn’t have Taylor. She says nothing, then turns to me. “Is he renting the room?”
“Um.” Me and Stanley both say um.
“I …” –
“He …” –
Taylor looks at me weirdly. Or more so, us weirdly. “I was just about to do his screening. Maybe while I do, you could clean up the basement and get it ready to be viewed?”
Taylor would flat-out refuse if it wasn’t for Stanley being there. Score one for me. She actually goes to clean. Amazing! “You can take a seat if you like?”
Stanley takes a seat on our brown single sofa with the white chickenpox covering. “Would you like a glass of water or cup of tea?”
“I’d say a beer.” –
“We have beer.” –
“Na. I was joking. I’m fine.”
“Oh.” I lick my lips, but not at him. Well, I was facing him at the time and his eyes did shoot me a vast emptiness of confusion on the highest level. I think Stanley finds me a little loco-looney. I sit to the side of him on the 2-seater sofa with the same covering, only black spots this time. “Tell me about yourself?” I’m glad that came to me so quickly.
“Yeah. Right. So, I’m a … I’ve just got back from the navy last week. I should be going back in a few months’ time. But for now, I’m looking for a room because this location is close to where my daughter stays. I have her from time-to-time when it comes around to my turn. We share it evenly.
“So, you would bring your daughter here if you were staying?”
“If that would be ok with you both?”
“I mean yes. If you … the last guy who stayed here had a daughter and I practically became a second mother to the girl.”
“Is it common for single dads to share with you?”
“We’ve had 3 here so far. Taylor always does the ads, and, God forbid, I never think to check if what she puts down is appropriate.”
Stanley smiles slightly, “you might want to check your ad. It said a single father preferred that is athletic, fit. single.” Stanley was remembering it all whilst counting his fingers. “Nightlife. Reputation … that part got me questioning what that meant? But I’m sure it will make a few guys laugh.”
I surely wasn’t laughing. “And Navy or soldier was on there. Minimum stay of 3-months.”
“You tick her perfect boxes.” Why is Taylor this way? Who-oh-why?”
“Do I tick none of yours?” Stanley’s voice drew to a deeper intonation, and it gave me the same withering chills that Carl did to both me and Taylor. I found my hand rising to my hair: wanting to twirl it and coyly flick it back behind. I avoided his eyes by all costs as I struggled to move my lips to make any mutual sense. Nothing came out. If I said anything, it would be, “a-b-c-d-e-f-g-h-i-j-k-l-m-n-o-p.”
I had to find a location to stare at that would be safe, and not too obvious that I didn’t want to make eye contact. He had a tattoo. I could divert my discomfort by talking about that. “Nice tattoo.”
“Does that tick your box?”
I guess that didn’t work. “Sort … sort of.”
“I mean nothing by it. Just, with your friend … I assume friend?”
“Yeah.”
“I wonder what individual you would like to be sharing a home with?”
“A straightforward human being would be fine.”
“Then I tick another box.” My right-hand goes around my wrist and squeezes. Then I start to rub it up and down my forearm but not to the elbow. My arm feels smooth. Then I scratch. I’m not itchy. But I scratch. It’s Carl all over again. I’m starting to feel tense – wondering if there are any more screening questions that I could ask Stanley.
Taylor comes up from the basement; carrying Henry the hoover and some of the black bags with her. She makes 2-trips and comes over to hand me the black bags of rubbish. Is it my turn to screen Stanley?” She holds the two black bags out for me to grab, which I take as I get up.
“Yeah. Your turn.”
…
I gave the room a spray with the air freshener. Taylor comes down with a small bin. “Can I bring him down to view?” She takes a look as I take it from her and place it near the bedside drawer. “Looks brand new.”
“Bring him down.”
“I think we should let him have it. If he wants it.”
“We haven’t screened anybody else yet.”
“I know. But I like him.” -
“Course you do.” I puff out the pillows and flatten the blanket with my palm like an iron. It’s a basic black noir duvet set.
“Why should we bother with anybody else?”
“I’m not getting another Carl in here.”
“Oh.” Taylor places both hands on her waist. “Is he making you itch down there already? Are you weak minded with no self-control? Is the possibility of …”
“Taylor, I’m just saying, can we please interview other people? It sure is stuffy down here. We need to get a fan or install some sort of air conditioning.”
Off the track, Taylor says, “you owe me.”
My neck is thrown back, as I turn to face that you-owe-me-line on her facial expression. Such a tired set of words. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” My head drops back down on that final line with a fierce gaze. I’m growing weary of it.
“There’s something about Stanley. Just like Carl. Only with him, I feel he might lack the douche-bag label and be more honest about not wanting anything serious.”
“Here we go.” I roll my eyes like the rotation of the earth.
“You just don’t understand.” -
“That you have a poor choice in men? Yes. I don’t understand.”
“You don’t find him attractive at all? I saw you when I came in. Practically salivating over him. So, don’t stand there all high and miss perfect with a boyfriend. I think you’ve made up your mind to. You’re just too self-righteous to admit it.”
“You really piss me …” –
“Hi, is it ok if I come down? I have to pick up my daughter in an hour.” Stanley was calling from up those 15 – steps. I hoped he didn’t hear mine and Taylor’s argument. We weren’t exactly subtly quiet.
I stammer, “uh … uh … sure.” I give Taylor that look.
She gives me an elevated eyebrow on the right-side with the other lowered. “Let him have the room?”
“No.” –
“Yes.” –
“No.” –
“Nice room.” At the same time, me and Taylor see Stanley standing on the bottom stair: peering all around. “This is exactly what I’m looking for: double bed. Private. Spacious. Room enough to have some of my daughter’s toys here. You also have a lock and key for the door?” He comes in a little more. But seems reserved like he knows two women have been bickering in here.
We both reply with, “yes.” My response sounded nervier.
“I’d be happy to pay the deposit up front?”
Taylor tucks in her hands: makes a knot. I avoid that stare. Yes, that one which I know is ridiculed with drama-drama-drama. She’s letting it burn. Making me sweat. I can’t have Stanley here just because she wants to jump on his lap and play the game called find my manhood which doesn’t exist. It would be a repeat procedure. We just share this damaging effect to fall for the same … “We’ll get back to you.”
“I say you can stay.” –
“I’m going to Marcus!” I’d had enough. Taylor can deal with this since she’s in charge and has made up her mind. Go ahead. I grab my coat. My car keys. A bottle of water which I drink on the way to my car and drive off. I won’t be back until she makes the decision that she has already made.