by Sara Mack
“Nice,” Garrett says, moving to stand next to me. “Birthday present?”
I shoot him a puzzled look.
He shrugs. “I heard you talking in the hallway with your friends.”
Before I can ask him if his apartment walls are made of paper, one of the delivery men reappears with the television. Judging from the box, it’s a 37” LED flat-screen. We move out of his way as he carries it over to my pitiful entertainment stand, sets it down on the floor, and goes to work opening the box.
“What are you going to do with your old stuff?” Garrett asks me.
I can’t help but notice the interest in his voice. “Would you like it?” I ask. I know my parents don’t want either item back. As a matter of fact, I think my mother would like to torch the loveseat personally.
“Actually, I would,” Garrett says. “I moved kind of quickly, and I don’t have a lot of stuff.”
“Then it’s yours.” I walk over to stand behind the armrest of the loveseat. “You pull, and I’ll push?”
He nods and grabs hold of the opposite end. It takes us a little maneuvering, but we manage to get it into the hallway and down to his apartment. He opens his door and then pulls on the armrest, walking backward. I push on my end until I’m completely over the threshold. I stand up straight, take in his place, and gasp.
There is absolutely nothing in here. Okay, there’s a wood dining chair. And books. Lots of books, stacked on top of each other against the wall in the living area. I eye Garrett. “You weren’t kidding, were you?”
He shakes his head.
“Do you have a bed at least?”
“I have a mattress.”
His apartment is laid out in the mirror image of mine. I look into the kitchen, and the only thing I see on the counter is an old stainless steel coffee pot. It looks like it’s from 1952. “Is there anything else you need?” I ask, concerned.
“I have all the necessities,” he says. “Roof over my head, running water, clothes on my back. What more could I want? Well, besides a couch and a TV,” he smiles.
I frown. Not only does he not have any family or friends, he possesses next to nothing. “Let me go get the TV for you,” I say and start to leave.
“I’ll get it.” He jumps around me. “It’s probably heavy.”
“I’m not that big of a wuss,” I protest, but he leaves out the door anyway. I look around his apartment again and curiosity gets the better of me. I creep down the short hallway to peek into his room. I see a mattress on the floor, covered by a thin blanket. His clothes are neatly folded and stacked against the walls like the books, separated into piles by shirts and pants. I turn, and my eye catches the bathroom. It contains only a towel and a toothbrush. He doesn’t even have a shower curtain.
I return to stand by the loveseat, so he won’t know I’ve been snooping. I make my mind up immediately. Garrett will be receiving a few things courtesy of me.
He rounds the corner moments later, his arms full of my little tube TV. “The delivery guys have something to ask you.”
I nod. “You want me to help you place this thing?” I glance at the couch.
“Nope, I’ve got it. Thank you.”
“No problem.” I start to leave. “Remember, if you need anything, I’m right next door.”
He smiles as he sets the television on the floor. “I remember.”
I give him a small wave goodbye and head back to my apartment.
“Do you plan on hooking this up to anything other than the DVD player and the cable box?” the delivery man asks. He has the TV set up on my stand. Even with it projecting nothing but static, it looks like a movie screen compared to my old set.
“No. That’s all I’ve got.”
“Then,” he tightens something in the back and a crystal-clear picture appears, “we’re finished here.”
The other delivery man collects the box and plastic from the television as they both head out the door. “Enjoy your new things.”
“Thanks.” I shut the door behind them and then promptly move to let LB out of the bedroom. “Sorry,” I apologize to her. “Come check out this new stuff with me.” I pick her up and walk over to the couch. Tentatively, I sit down on the middle cushion and then lean back. Darn it if it isn’t incredibly soft and comfortable. I look down at LB and her claws. Kitten claws and leather aren’t a good combination. “I take back what I said LB. You cannot use this as a scratching post.”
A few hours later, after I’ve covered the couch with two winter blankets to protect it from LB, eaten the leftover Chinese takeout, and read the first two chapters for Intro to Ethics, I sit in the living room holding my cell phone in my hands. I know I should thank Dane for his generosity, but I’m nervous. Matt said I shouldn’t contact him. But he contacted me first. I sigh and suck it up. I type Thank you and hit send.
My phone chimes with a text almost immediately. You’re welcome. You like?
I smile. Yes. But you shouldn’t have done it.
Why? Matt needs a decent place to sleep when he stays.
He plans on staying more often, does he? It’s too expensive I send.
No worries.
I pause, thinking of what to say next. A simple good night would probably be best. Minutes pass. I can’t possibly ask him what I truly want to know, which is “Can you ever forgive me?”
He texts again. I’m sorry.
I’ve missed our sarcastic banter. For sending me a couch? You’re forgiven.
That’s not what I meant.
I swallow nervously. I should be the one apologizing.
No. What happened was because of me. I started it.
True, but I’m not letting him take all the blame. I should have stopped it sooner.
Fifteen minutes pass. I start to think I won’t hear from him again and set my phone down. It chimes against the table. Friends?
Why do I feel like this is a loaded question? On one hand, I feel relieved. But as the relief sinks in, my heart starts to ache a little. I still love James, but I also care about Dane more than I should. Would it be the best idea to remain friends with him? Will this hurt both of us in the long run? Depending on my response, I could open a door or end everything right now.
Friends I confirm and hit send. I should really stop asking myself questions I already know the answers to.
Out of a deep sleep, I jolt awake. I glance at the clock; it’s after midnight. I look down to see LB curled by my side. I try to change position without disturbing her, but it doesn’t work. She gets up and stretches, then turns around and lies back down. I shift to my side, hug my pillow, and close my eyes. Suddenly, the dream I was having returns to me.
I was with Garrett. We were in a really bright place, almost like we were standing in a ray of light. The ground looked soft, but it wasn’t. I know this because, as we walked together, I felt no spring under my feet. Wherever we were felt really warm, like a summer day, but not hot and sticky. He was explaining something to me and gesturing with his hands, but I don’t recall the conversation. As we walked, we passed other people, and I got distracted. The other people would nod and smile at me. I couldn’t help but notice they all had the same color eyes as Garrett; that odd turquoise blue color. I remember looking at him, confused, and asking for an explanation. We stopped walking, and he asked if I trusted him. I told him yes. He placed his hands on my head and…
I woke up.
That’s it. The reiki. I didn’t get a chance to investigate that.
I try to go back to sleep for over an hour. LB gets mad at my changing positions and decides to leave me, curling up on the floor by the air vent instead. When two a.m. hits, I give up. I crawl out of bed, grab my laptop, crawl back into bed, and start researching reiki.
I find plenty of information on the topic, and the description sounds similar to what Garrett did, but it doesn’t exactly fit. What he did seemed supernatural. I try searching for similar things, typing in “relieving headaches by touch” and “moving pain through the
body.” I read article after article, and many are in regard to homeopathic medicine. I even search for first-hand accounts of something similar. Nothing matches.
I finally grow tired, and my eyes start to hurt from reading the computer screen in the dark. I turn off my laptop and set in on the floor. So much for that research. I’ll just have to ask Garrett more questions about his “reiki” when I see him again. I scoot down under my covers and close my eyes. I’m relieved my first class doesn’t start until eleven tomorrow morning.
My thoughts turn to Dane and what happened today. Things started out pretty terrible with my James episode, but the day ended on a high note. I’m grateful for the things I have. I inadvertently think of Garrett, who has nothing. I feel really bad for him. I start to make a mental list of things I could get for him. A shower curtain. A comforter or at least a heavier blanket. Sheets. Maybe towels. I shake my head into my pillow. How could he have none of these things? He looks to be my age. What would have made him leave his home so suddenly?
My eyes snap open. Maybe he does have weird powers, hence the reiki excuse, and he was cast out. Shunned. He said he came from a small town. Maybe his powers were revealed, and they wanted to experiment on him medically, so he ran away. Or maybe he’s a psychic. That would explain how he knew I just had a birthday, and that Matt was Shel’s boyfriend. I’m not sure I buy his defense of “I overheard you talking.” Or maybe he’s ill. He does feel extremely cold; maybe he has some rare disease and is seeking alternative medicines. That would explain all the books. When he felt my forehead this morning, his hand was freezing. I’ve never felt anyone that cold except for James.
“James,” I whisper in disbelief and sit upright. Was my first instinct correct? Could my neighbor Garrett and James’ Garrett be one and the same? No, not possible. Garrett is human, not a Guardian. His hands don’t pass through objects; he can physically move heavy things. He drinks coffee. He goes to college. And if Garrett were hanging around me, wouldn’t James have shown up with some sort of an explanation?
I lie back down, mulling things over. Garrett seems nice enough. I wonder what his real story is. I don’t feel an inkling of danger when I’m around him. James would let me know to be cautious because that’s what Guardians do. Maybe all Garrett needs is someone to talk to, and I have plenty of time on my hands. I’m curious. I can’t help it.
It looks like the universe just handed me a hobby.
Chapter 4
My instructors aren’t playing this semester. Business Stats and Analytical Foundations were brutal yesterday, and it was only the first session of each. Communications in Business looks to be my easiest class, with Intro to Ethics somewhere in between. I chalk my struggle with them up to the fact that I’m still tired from spending all of Tuesday night contemplating Garrett. I hope to ask him to lunch today after Ethics, in an effort to get some of my questions answered. I immediately spot him when I enter the classroom and take a seat beside him.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Good morning. How’s my couch treating you?”
“Great. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome.” As I dig through my bag I ask, “Do you want to get some lunch after class?”
He raises an eyebrow like he’s surprised I suggested it. “I have Management until two. Is a late lunch okay?”
I nod. “Where do you want to go?”
“I’ll cook,” he says. I must look confused, because he follows with, “I do own a pan or two.”
Touché. “Should I bring the plates then?”
He smiles. “No. But you might want to bring a table.”
We laugh as Ms. Johnson appears at the front of room. She sets a stack of papers on her desk and brings us all to attention. Today’s lecture will be on the riveting topic of Aristotle’s defection from the teachings of Plato.
Garrett told me to show up any time after three. I finished an assignment for Stats, and now I’m wasting time by playing with LB on my bed. I have a mental list of questions compiled for him. I hope I can be subtle. His life is his business. Why should he share it with me?
My phone chimes, and I reach for it on the nightstand, still trailing a piece of yarn for LB to catch. There’s a text from Shel.
How are you enjoying your birthday presents?
I see my extravagant gifts have come up in conversation. I drop the yarn and decide to be facetious. I’m playing with LB right now. Enjoying it very much.
Haha. I know about Dane.
Duh.
Why didn’t you tell me?
Classes are rough.
I’ll say.
I look at the clock. It’s ten after three. Having a late lunch with a friend. Call you later.
Anyone I know?
My neighbor, Garrett.
I set the phone down and give LB a good rubbing with both hands. “See you in a little bit,” I tell her. I pick up my cell and my keys, and head toward the front door. My phone goes off again.
????
I roll my eyes at Shel. I know what she’s thinking. I quickly type It’s not like that and hit send. I look at my phone and decide I don’t need to bring it with me. I set it on the couch and head out. When I approach Garrett’s door, I can smell whatever it is he’s cooking and my stomach growls. It smells delicious. I knock and hear him shout, “Its open!”
When I enter the apartment I find him in the kitchen, bent over a large pot on the stove, stirring. “I thought you said you owned a pan?”
He looks over his shoulder at me and smirks. “I own a pot, too.”
“What are we having? It smells amazing.”
“Fennel soup,” he says. “Ever had it?”
I shake my head no. Garrett moves to open the oven door and check what’s baking there. I feel like he’s doing too much. “Can I help with anything? I’m the one who invited you to lunch.”
He closes the oven door. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, I owe you for the couch and the television.” He resumes stirring the soup. “There are two bowls around here somewhere. Can you find them?”
I nod and move inside the kitchen, opening the first cabinet I see. It’s empty. I try the next. It’s empty as well. I step around him to the next cabinet. Ah ha. There they are. Two white bowls. I grab them and set them to the right of the stove, because the left side appears to be covered in flour.
“We have a couple minutes left on the biscuits,” he says and turns the stove burner down to simmer.
“Biscuits?”
“From scratch. Southern style.”
I’m majorly impressed. My best dish is a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. “Do you cook like this often?”
He shrugs. “I make all of my food. I wasn’t able to cook where I was staying before.”
I lean against the counter. “Where did you learn?”
“A little from my granny back home. But most of it I picked up from the army.” He gives me a wry smile. “I was a field cook.”
“Army? How old are you?”
He opens the oven door, bends down to check the biscuits again, and sighs. “Older than you think.”
I look at him and determine that he couldn’t be any older than 25. How long does it take for someone to serve their term and get discharged from the army?
“These look about done,” he says and opens the oven door completely. He reaches for the hot cake pan without an oven mitt, grabbing it with his bare hand.
“Don’t!”
He looks at me confused as he pulls it from of the oven. He sets it on the stove. “Don’t what?”
I look at him incredulously and grab his hand. It feels frozen as I turn it over. He’s not burned at all. “How did you not burn yourself?”
He snatches his hand out of my grasp. “Ah…” He avoids my eyes and picks up the spoon to start stirring the soup again. He stares at the pot. “I used to grab hot things all time while I was out in the field. My nerves are shot.”
I frown at him. He expects me to believe
that? I mean, it is believable, but it doesn’t explain how there is no mark on his skin.
He turns off the burner. “Let’s eat.” He picks up the pot by both handles and carefully pours the soup into each bowl, not spilling a drop. If I had tried this, I would have been wearing the soup for sure.
“What is fennel?” I ask.
“It’s a vegetable. It looks like a feathery plant above the ground, but we’re eating the bulb.” He sets the pot back on the stove.
All right. I’ll take his word for it.
He pulls a biscuit from of the pan. “I usually crumble these over the top,” he says. “Would you like yours separate?”
I pick up a soup bowl and hold it out to him. “Crumble away.”
He mashes the biscuit over my bowl and then does the same to his. “This way.” He starts to walk out of the kitchen. “You’ll have to sit on your old couch to eat.”
I follow him. “That’s okay. I’ve missed her.”
He looks back at me. “Really? With that Cadillac sitting in your front room?”
Front room? He sounds like my grandmother. I laugh. “I was kidding.”
I make my way to sit down. He must have hit up a garage sale in the last day or two, because a small table stands in front of the couch. I take a seat, and Garrett sits on the floor.
“Oh.” He stands back up. “I guess we need spoons.” He leaves the room and reappears moments later with two spoons.
Hunger takes over, and I taste the soup. I was expecting a vegetable flavor, like potato, but it’s surprisingly sweet. “This is really good,” I compliment him.
He nods.
I want him to feel comfortable around me, so he will open up about himself. I already found out a couple tidbits in the short time I’ve been here: he served in the army, and he can touch hot things without being burned. I’m starting to suspect he may be a military prototype, like Captain America.
Trying to appear casual, I lift my spoon and lick the back of it. “I was researching reiki the other night. It’s funny; nothing I could find came close to what you did the other day.”
