Страница 15 из 77
“How so?” I took the bait, even though I knew what she was doing. This was Haley’s way of establishing that she was in a relationship, which she believed would lessen the risk of me trying to sneak into the shower with her while she was busy rinsing out her Awapuhi.
“Like I said yesterday,” Haley answered. “I was supposed to book my own ticket home. But I procrastinated. So Justin’s back in Portland right now, hanging out at home, when we were supposed to be heading to a B&B in Seaside. Our parents are friends, and they said as long as we were back by Christmas day.… Anyway, instead of getting mad at me, which is what I would’ve done, all Justin wants to talk about is my frozen pipes. He actually feels bad for me, can you believe it? That’s some serious patience.”
“Wow,” I said, playing along. “He sounds … patient.”
“Okay, now you.”
I sat there for an uncomfortable amount of time, trying to think of something interesting to say. I couldn’t talk about a distant girlfriend the way I wanted to—which would definitely make Haley feel more comfortable about the shower situation.
“It doesn’t have to be some big profound thing,” she told me. “It can be simple.”
“Got it,” I said, still brainstorming. Then it came to me. “My little sister, who’s probably my best friend in the world, turns seventeen on Christmas day. This is the first birthday of hers I’ll have ever missed.” Sofe wasn’t technically my best friend, and she didn’t technically turn seventeen until the week after Christmas, but the point was to show Haley I was a solid brother, which would hopefully increase her trust in me.
“Ah, that’s sad. Why didn’t you go home?”
No money! “Because I promised Mike I’d cat sit.”
Haley frowned. “I’m sure he’d have understood. It’s Christmas. And your sister’s birthday.”
“I have a lot of homework and stuff, too,” I lied.
“Ah, I figured you were a student,” Haley said. “What school?”
“NYU.”
She nodded. “Isn’t your semester over?”
I pulled my beanie tighter over my forehead and shifted positions on the couch. “Actually, it’s for next semester.” I pointed at the novel I’d been reading. “This one lit class I’m taking has a grip of reading. I’m trying to, like, get ahead, you know?” It was true that a class I’d signed up for had a large reading list, but the book on the couch had nothing to do with school. And I was a fast reader.
“What year are you?” Haley asked.
“Freshman. You?”
“I’m a sophomore at Columbia.”
“Nice, a college veteran,” I said.
Haley forced a laugh. “Please. I have no idea what I’m even going to major in.”
I glanced at my book again.
There was another awkward silence at that point, and after a few seconds Haley stood up and said, “See?”
I stood up, too. “See what?”
“Now we know a little about each other. Which means it’s less weird for me to take a shower at your place.”
“Well, technically,” I pointed out, “it’s not my place.”
“It’s yours through the holidays, right?”
“I guess so.” I watched Haley disappear into the hall, and a few seconds later I heard the bathroom door in the master bedroom close. I looked around the apartment, trying to imagine it as my place. The designer couch. The expensive-looking leather chair. The massive flat-screen mounted on the wall. The fancy-looking paintings.
What would my old man say if he saw me standing here right now?
He’d think I was cat sitting in a museum.
I read the entire time Haley was in Mike’s bathroom—which was a shockingly long time. When she finally walked back into the living room, her hair was wet and I could tell she was wearing fresh makeup. She looked beautiful.
I sat down my book and got up, saying, “Everything go okay in there?”
“It was quite lovely. Thanks.” She waited for me to open the front door. When I did, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “Thank you, Shy.”
I got a weird, unbalanced feeling hearing her say my name, and I told her, “My shower’s your shower, Haley.” But that sounded kind of sexual so I quickly added: “I mean, you can bathe in my place anytime.” But that was creepy, too. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” she said, saving me from myself. “I appreciate it.”
She gave me a nice smile and left Mike’s apartment.
When I closed the door, I found Olive looking up at me, accusatorily.
“What?” I asked.
She meowed.
“Look,” I told her, “you’re go
She stuck out her front paws, stretched her multicolored back, and crept away.
Angels in the Snow
Haley was back early the next morning with her bathroom bag, a change of clothes, and a fresh towel. “I don’t mean to keep interrupting … whatever it is you do down here,” she said, “but I kind of had an accident in the kitchen.” She held out the front of her gray Columbia sweatshirt. There was a large catsup stain between the m and the b.
I motioned for her to come inside. “You can just leave your stuff in there if you want.”
She forced a laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think so. That would be taking it way too far. Besides, how do I know you’re not the kind of person who snoops through people’s things?”
“I don’t even shower in there. I use the one in the spare bedroom.”
“That’s what they all say.” She looked down at her catsup stain again. “I know technically this is more of a laundry issue, but I feel dirty.”
“Like I said, you can shower down here whenever you want.”
She set her stuff on the dining room table and reached down to pet the cat. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you girl? Oh, yes, you are.”
“Her name’s Olive,” I said.
Haley looked up at me. “We’re on a first-name basis now, I see.”
I shrugged. For some reason I wasn’t feeling like my usual laid-back self. I think the hunger was making me irritable. But at the same time, I was happy to be talking to Haley again. Being hungry is bad news. Being hungry and alone? That’s when people start Googling info about suicide hotlines.
She stood up and put her hands on her hips, like she was waiting for something. That unbalanced feeling I got whenever we made eye contact was no longer confined to my stomach. It had moved up into my chest.
“What?” I said.
“You go first this time,” she said.
“We’re doing that getting-to-know-you thing again?”
“Yep,” Haley said. “Every time I come down here, we have to share one new thing. Those are the rules. And ideally it should be something highly personal. The last thing you shared was kind of boring—no offense to your sister.” She glanced over my shoulder, into Mike and Janice’s kitchen. “What are you doing for meals? It never smells like you’ve cooked anything, and I usually hear the takeout guys when they’re coming up the steps.”
“Oh, Mike left a stocked fridge for me,” I lied. “The cupboards are all full, too. They made this big grocery-store run to the new Whole Foods before they left and said I should eat as much as I can.”
“Nice,” Haley said. “But I’m guessing you don’t actually cook.”
I shook my head. “I mostly make sandwiches. And cereal. Easy stuff like that.” My stomach cramped so aggressively at the thought of these mythical meals I winced in pain.
“You’re welcome to eat with me. It’s just as easy to cook for two as it is for one.”
For reasons I didn’t fully understand, Haley’s offer made me want to cry.
I broke eye contact and kneeled down to pet Olive. I was so hungry now I constantly felt lightheaded. My arms and legs felt like Styrofoam. I’d finished off the hot dog bun and baby carrots and the yogurts the night before. When I awoke in the morning, I had half of the chocolate bar. I still felt hungry, though, and drank glass after glass of tap water thinking it would fill me up. It didn’t work.