by Naomi Niles
“Of course you do,” I nodded.
I had wound her hair into a pattern of intricate braids that draped over her head and ended in a delicate yet messy bun at the nape of her neck. I had played up the rich, earthiness of her eyes by going for a dark, smoky eye that was both classy and sexy. I had kept the rest of her makeup simple, opting for skin-toned rouge and a nude lip.
“Now add a pretty dress and high heels and you’ll be the belle of the ball,” I said, with a wink.
“Thanks, Madison!” Marcy said with delight. “I actually do feel confident now.”
“You should,” I said. “You have a lot to be confident about. Word of advice?”
“Yes, please?”
“When you see Ellen and Coulter, be aloof, but not hostile. Be indifferent, but not angry. Talk, laugh, and have fun. Dance with a bunch of different guys and show them that you’ve moved on. Show them that you’re better off without them…because you are.”
She nodded firmly. “I will,” she said. “Thanks, Madison.”
She gave me a hug before she left and the moment she walked out the door, Whitney turned to me approvingly. “That was very well done, Madison,” she said.
I tipped my imaginary cap to her. “A good day’s work, I’d say.”
“Indeed,” Whitney nodded dramatically. “We’re changing lives, you and I.”
“And, what am I?” Lola demanded. “Chopped liver?”
“You’re the sidekick,” Whitney replied teasingly, earning a dark look from Lola.
I laughed. “I hate to break up the bickering, but Whitney, I need to talk to you.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“It’s not,” I smiled. “I wanted to thank you for letting me crash at your place. You can’t know how much I appreciate it. But now… I think it’s time for me to go home.”
“Really?” she said. “Are you sure?”
“I haven’t heard from Kameron or my brother,” I said. “I’m not naïve enough to believe they’ve forgotten about me, but I can’t let them keep me from my own house, either. I have to go back.”
Whitney looked skeptical. “You know you can always come back, right?”
“You are amazing,” I said. “You know that?”
She batted her eyes at me. “That has been the general consensus, yes,” she nodded.
I laughed and leaned in to give her a hug. “I’m going to grab my stuff tonight and get out of your hair. It’s about time you had your apartment back, and I think a couple of your neighbors have caught on to the fact that you have a dog bunking with you.”
“Nosey fuckers,” Whitney said, rolling her eyes. “I can take them on.”
“Well, now you don’t have to,” I said, giving her a wink.
That night, I packed up, said my final goodbyes to Whitney, and headed for the SUV with Polo in tow. I was actually feeling pretty good. It felt nice not to have to rely on anyone, even if they were more than willing to help, like Whitney was. It was nice to know that I was going back to my own space. There was a comfort there that couldn’t be replicated anywhere else.
The moment I pulled up in front of the house, I noticed something was different. I parked and gazed out the window. A second later, it hit me: the front door was different. The ratty, old wood had been replaced with a lighter, more modern front that actually looked quite beautiful.
I turned to Polo in shock. “What do you think, Polo?” I asked. “Should I be happy, nervous, or scared?”
Polo cocked his head to one side as though he were not sure how to answer me. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s get inside first.”
I grabbed my duffel bag and headed towards my new front door. “It was probably the landlord,” I decided, thinking aloud. “Who else would do something like this?”
I unlocked the door and pushed it open. The moment I turned on the light, I froze in place and stared around at the transformed space.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, as I took it all in.
The tiny living space that had once stood empty had been converted completely. Now there was a sofa in the middle of the room, next to which sat a massive, cushioned armchair. A small, low table sat in front of the sofa. There was a welcome rug at the front door and a larger rug upon which the living room coffee table was placed.
I looked down at Polo, who was looking back at me as though he was equally as shocked. “I think we’re in the wrong house, Polo,” I breathed, taking a tentative step into my home.
I closed the door shut slowly and continued into the room where my sleeping bag should have been. It was no longer there. Instead, there was a single bed facing the window. The bed had been made with light blue sheets and a large pillow at its head.
A small chest of drawers stood at the other end of the room, presumably to hold my clothes. My sleeping bag had been rolled up and was laid next to it along with my suitcase with the only other remaining clothes I possessed. There was a new bathmat in the bathroom and when I walked into the kitchen, there was a table sitting there, flanked by two chairs. There was a note on the table and I reached for it instantly.
I know I probably should have asked your permission first, but I wanted it to be a surprise. It just didn’t seem right that you had no furniture and no place to sleep at night. If you don’t want it, you can keep everything by the curb and I’ll pick it up and take it all back…after giving you a ticket for littering first (just kidding). But I really hope you keep everything. And I really hope I didn’t overstep, especially considering this would technically be categorized under “breaking and entering.” Also, there’s some lasagna in the freezer…just in case. Peter.
“Peter,” I breathed aloud. “Peter.” I looked down at Polo and shook my head at him. “Peter did all this.”
I circled on the spot, taking a look at all the changes he had made and all the money he would have spent to transform the barren space into a livable one. He had done it all for me. No one I had ever encountered in my entire life had done anything like this before. It was so unbelievably nice that I felt tears prick at my eyes.
My head was spinning so I decided to take a shower and keep the lasagna out to defrost. Even in its frozen state, it looked delicious. I stepped into the shower and allowed the hot water to sear off the wear and tear of the day. After ten minutes, my head was feeling a little lighter. I stepped out of the shower, wiped myself dry, and slipped on sweats and a checkered shirt. I went into the kitchen and put Polo’s food out.
While he was eating, I heated up the lasagna and then set it down on my new kitchen table. I ate straight from the dish, savoring the delicious flavor of the thin sheets of pasta against the richness of the meat. Once Polo and I had finished eating, I moved to the living room where I collapsed onto the couch. Polo snuggled up against me and butted his head against my hand.
“I know,” I breathed. “It’s so comfortable.”
He was staring straight up at me and I leant my forehead against his. “This is nice, isn’t it, boy?” I asked. “It’s nice to have a home and a sofa and a bed…and a kitchen table. You don’t realize how important they are until you’ve lived without them. Still, I’m going to have to return all this. It’s not right that I should keep everything.”
Polo looked at me unblinkingly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “I can’t accept all this, nice as it is. Peter is a nice guy, and this was a really amazing gesture, but it sends the wrong message.
“I mean, I’m not some damsel in distress. I don’t need to be saved. I’m not some charity case. I mean, I accept all this today, and then tomorrow he thinks he can demand something of me. And then I’m obligated. What if he thinks he can buy me?
“And then suddenly, he’s my sugar daddy and I’m no better than those hookers around the corner. So yeah, I can’t accept all this. I would be completely stupid and completely naïve to just take all this and say thank you.
“I’m not going over there. I’m just going to sit here tonight, enjoy h
aving furniture for two seconds, and then I’m going to put everything out on the curb. And then Peter will understand that there are limits and there are boundaries. And I will not allow them to be crossed.”
I looked at Polo, who stared back at me unfazed.
“You’re right, I should go over,” I said, admitting defeat and heading for the door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Peter
“Any news?” John asked, shooting me a sideways glance before turning his eyes back to the television.
“From whom?” I asked, pretending as though I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“From Santa Claus,” John said sarcastically. “You know whom; don’t pretend.”
I sighed. “No sign of her yet,” I replied. “What if she just left town?”
“Why would she leave behind her things?” he asked, with raised eyebrows. “There was a suitcase with her clothes in the room, remember?”
“What if she was forced to leave in a hurry?” I suggested.
“You think she ran away again?”
“It’s possible,” I said. “She ran away once. And, her brother does know where she is now, which means Kameron will probably know, too. Maybe she wanted to get out as fast as she could, and she didn’t stop to get a hold of all her things.”
“Well…it’s possible,” John said uncertainly.
“Or what if her brother found her again?” I asked. “And dragged her back to Kameron?”
“Do you really think he would do that?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” I said. “I mean, he is trying to convince her to go back to an abusive relationship.”
“I think you may be overthinking things,” John said, in a bracing voice.
I took a deep breath. “That’s always been my problem.”
“Have you ever thought of just going down to the salon where she works and asking about her?” he suggested. “That way you’d know if she was still working there or not. You might even run into her.”
I looked at him. “Why the fuck didn’t I think of that?”
John smiled. “Because you’re not as smart as I am.”
“I’ve been out of work for too long,” I sighed.
“You’ve only got a short time left,” he reminded me. “Hang in there and enjoy the free time you have while you have it. I know I would.”
I glanced at John and saw the tiredness in his eyes. “You’ve been overworking yourself lately,” I told him. “The excitement you used to have with your job isn’t there anymore.”
“You can see it, huh?” he said, without bothering to deny it.
“I can see it,” I nodded. “Why not take a step back? Reduce the number of clients you see? Maybe take a small vacation. You can certainly afford one.”
“But what would I do?” he asked. “Where would I go?”
“That’s completely up to you.”
He sighed. “It’s not that simple. I may have the money to do loads of things, but it’s pretty irrelevant if there’s no one to share it with.”
“Are you talking about a friend?” I asked. “Or a girlfriend?”
John paused for a moment. “I don’t really know,” he said. “It’s not like I have either.”
“Don’t I count as a friend?”
He laughed. “Sure,” he nodded. “But you’re my brother. It doesn’t quite count.”
“I think it should,” I said, with a shrug.
John sighed and leaned his head back on the sofa. “I really hope this thing between you and Madison works out,” he said unexpectedly.
“Really?” I couldn’t help but ask. “Why?”
“Because, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized something.” His eyes unfocused slightly. “Committing yourself to someone is one of the more meaningful choices in life. It gives you reason and purpose. It gives you something to work towards and something to work on. It gives you direction and perspective and…love.”
“You sound like Dad now,” I said softly.
“I used to think Dad was just a hopeless romantic,” John said.
“He was.”
“Maybe so,” John nodded. “But he had it right. It’s better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.”
“Dad never said that,” I said, wrinkling my brows together.
“No,” he agreed. “But I think it’s a sentiment he would have agreed with.”
“I can’t argue there,” I nodded.
We sat in silence for a few moments and then I drew myself up. “I think I’m going to turn in now.”
“So early?”
“Well, I do want to go over the plans for the addition one last time before I hit the sack,” I said.
“You love doing that kind of thing, don’t you?”
“It’s a good distraction,” I nodded. “Night, big brother.”
“Night, little brother.” John smiled as he waved me off to my room.
I closed the door behind me and headed straight for my writing desk. It had belonged to Dad and a few years after his death, once the pain of losing him had ebbed a little, I’d moved it into my room for safe keeping. Sometimes, I actually felt closer to him because of it. It was an artificial feeling, but it was all I had.
I was sitting in front of my desk, going over the plans of the new addition to the house when a sound caught my ear. It was faint at first, so I almost missed it. I cocked my head to the side trying to figure out what it was.
When I was met with silence, I turned my attention back to the papers in front of me. Then I heard it again. This time, it was louder and more insistent than before. And, it was definitely coming from my window.
“What the…” I said, as I moved to the window and pushed open the curtains. My breath caught when I realized who was standing just outside it, a few feet from the windowsill.
She was standing there in gray sweats and a red-and-blue checkered shirt that hung off her thin frame. Her hair was a mess of tangles around her head and I could see the brightness of her green eyes from where I stood. It was amazing how beautiful she looked even when she was dressed down, even when she was trying to hide that obvious beauty.
“Madison,” I said, aloud to myself.
She had a handful of little pebbles in her hand and she had obviously been throwing them against my window for the last minute. We just stared at each other for a moment. Then, I unlatched my window and pushed it open.
“Hi,” I said.
Madison’s face broke out into a breathtaking smile. “Hi,” she replied.
“You’re throwing rocks at my window,” I said, as though she didn’t already know what she was doing.
Her smiled widened. “I am,” she nodded. “And to be fair, they’re pebbles, not rocks.”
“Noted,” I nodded. “Hey, Madison?”
“Yes?”
“Why are you throwing pebbles at my window?”
“I didn’t want to knock on the front door and risk waking John up,” she said. “So, I decided on this plan of action.”
“I see,” I nodded. “You know that given that my room is on the first floor, you didn’t need to bother with the pebbles at all?”
Madison laughed softly. “I know,” she nodded. “I was trying to be cute.”
I felt my body relax instantly. She looked and sounded like she had forgiven me for the incident with her brother. I didn’t want to make presumptions, but instinct told me I was in the clear.
“Well, it’s definitely working,” I told her.
“How did you know this was my room?” I asked.
“Umm…” She blushed visibly. “I’ve been paying attention.”
“You’ve been spying on me, huh?”
“It’s not spying if your windows are open and I happen to look in this general direction.”
“Is that the official story?”
“It’s the one I’m sticking with,” Madison replied.
I laughed and she joined in. After a moment she steppe
d towards my window. “Can we talk?” she asked.
“Of course,” I nodded. “Should I let you in through the front door or do you prefer windows?”
Madison seemed to consider that for a moment. “Hell, let’s go with the window. It’s much more clandestine that way.”
Laughing, I pushed the window open wider for her and helped her slip through the opening. Luckily, she was small and slim enough that she came through without a problem.
“Whoa,” she yelled, as her legs passed through the window and she almost fell on top of me. I held her tight and righted her immediately.
“There we go,” I said. “Did you hurt anything?”
She shook her head. “Nope,” she replied. “All good.”
“Great,” I said. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
She looked around my paltry room, and then she moved straight for the bed and sat down on top of it. Glad that she had made the decision to sit there, I moved to sit beside her.
“This is room is as small as mine is,” Madison pointed out.
“Believe it or not, we used to share this space when we were growing up,” I said. “It used to be me and John in this room. The room next to mine is a little bigger, so Alan, Sam, and Talen used to share that one.”
“That must have been a little…difficult at times.”
“It could be,” I nodded. “But we always managed. And in any case, John and I are the only ones who really live in this house anymore. So space is not such a problem as it used to be. I kept this room, John moved into the one next door, and Dad’s room is vacant whenever one of the others decides to crash.”
“And do they?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “Well, Talen never does. But Alan uses the room when he’s visiting, and Sam uses it when he’s too lazy or too drunk to drive back to his place.”
“It must be comforting for them to know they have a place to go, if they ever need it,” Madison said, in a faraway voice. “I never really had that.”
“Maybe one day you will,” I said, trying to convey to her a promise in that vague sentence.
She smiled at me as though she knew what I was getting at. “Peter,” she said, her voice going low with sincerity. “Thank you so much for everything you did for the house…the door and the furniture and the lasagna.”
