by Ann Aguirre
Typical. Not that Max was a bad guy, but...
Since freshman year, he’d slept his way through half the women at Mount Albion. Since this was a midsize liberal arts college, that was both impressive and alarming. Lauren and I knew Max too well to be seduced. Oh, he’d tried early on, but we both shot him down. I had zero interest in troubled bad boys from broken homes. Someone else could love Max and fix him; I was just crossing my fingers that he’d do the dishes on schedule. Max did contribute a steady paycheck, and that weighed heavily into the roommate decision—I trusted him to pay his share of the rent on time. As for Angus, he came from a “good family,” as my mother would say, so his dad had already prepaid his part of the rent with the leasing company. Lauren and I were on our own, but I had a part-time job, and so did she. It should be fine. I’d been telling myself that since I signed the lease last spring and put down the deposit, but this was a little scary, after living in the dorm as a freshman and sophomore.
“Fine,” Lauren said, since nobody else seemed to care about couch placement, and helped Max move it.
He immediately conscripted her to help him set up the entertainment center while Angus and I situated the retro dining set I’d found at a rummage sale, complete with yellow vinyl chairs and cracked-ice Formica top, edged in chrome. It had plenty of character, and probably dated from the actual ’50s, but I covered the scratches with place mats while Angus organized the kitchen. I’d never lived in a house with a dishwasher before, though I wasn’t about to admit that to the guys. Lauren knew, of course. My parents were covering my tuition with the help of an academic scholarship, but there had never been many luxuries. In fact, I was the first person in the family to go to college. Lauren and I had been friends since second grade. Her family used to have money, but her dad’s investments didn’t pan out, which left him bitter, and when she was eleven, he left the family entirely. Ten years later, we were in the same financial boat.
By the time Lauren and Max got the TV and peripherals set up, Angus had the kitchen done, and I’d set food and beer on the counter, along with plates I’d rinsed to get rid of packing dust and newspaper ink. I collapsed onto the sofa with a groan; more boxes could wait until later. Angus sat next to me, and Lauren settled on his other side, leaving Max the recliner. He promptly put on a noisy action movie from his collection, and I was too tired to argue.
“You’ve seen this twelve times,” Angus said.
“Fourteen. What’s your point?” Max flashed a grin that other people found charming.
I ate my pizza, staring blankly at a succession of car chases.
Afterward, I felt better, enough to start rummaging in the decor boxes. We didn’t have a ton, but there were a few pictures, scented candles and a weird statue that Angus’s mom made. Apparently, she was some kind of big-deal sculptor in Europe. I asked their opinions of where I should hang things at first, but it became obvious nobody cared, so I located hammer and nails and went to work.
Ten minutes later, someone knocked on the door. The other three looked at me.
“What?” Lauren said. “You’re already up.”
“Fine.”
I answered, then my eyes widened when I saw Ty. If possible, he looked even wearier, damp and rumpled, too. He’d changed into a gray Converse T-shirt, and I had no idea what would create those splash patterns, but soft cotton clung to his upper body, revealing broad shoulders and a solid chest. His disheveled, touchable appeal made me smile until he opened his mouth.
“Do you mind turning down the TV and not banging on the walls so late?”
Surprised, I dug the phone out of my pocket. It read 8:42 p.m. For shit’s sake, it wasn’t even nine on a weeknight. I’d stayed up later than this in elementary school. “I think we disagree as to what constitutes late. But I’ll tell Max about the TV.” I pivoted to call, “Hey, he can hear your movie downstairs. Too loud, bro.”
With a dirty look and a mumbled curse, Max pressed the volume on the remote. Holy crap, he had it all the way up to fifty. No wonder Couch Guy was cranky. It occurred to me that was why he’d sighed when he spotted Lauren and me moving in. College students were known to be pain-in-the-ass partiers, prone to aggravating their neighbors, barfing in strange places and occasionally leaving naked people where they didn’t belong.
“Thanks.” That was all he said before wheeling and heading off down the hall in a hurry.
“Great, we have a complete fun Nazi living downstairs,” Max grumbled.
“We knew when we moved in this was a mixed community.”
The all-college-student apartments we’d looked at cost more, both in monthly rent and damage deposits. This place rented to upperclassmen, and they didn’t make us pay two months up front, either. It was a little farther from campus, but we had two cars between the four of us, and we’d worked out a good ride-share system. But we also couldn’t be as wild as we might get away with elsewhere.
“I don’t want our neighbors to hate me,” Lauren said. “Especially hot ones who help us move furniture.”
“You have terrible taste in guys,” Max told her.
While they bickered, Angus snagged the remote and quietly turned the movie down another few notches. I put down the hammer and decorated more quietly, arranging knickknacks and candles; the picture-hanging could wait until the morning. For all I knew, Ty was a med student who hadn’t slept in twenty-seven hours, so once I finished the living room, rather than agitate him on our first night, I dragged my boxes to my room and started hanging up clothes. Along the way, I found sheets and made up my bed. Elation burbled through me when I unearthed towels, too; at ten, I stopped organizing and took my first shower in our new place.
My mom called at half past, just as I was stepping onto the rug. It was surprising until I realized she must’ve forgotten the two-hour difference. Again. She was on Mountain time; I was on Eastern. This happened about once a month. She’d get an itch to talk to me and dial away.
I grabbed my cell and said, “Everything’s fine, no hitches.”
“You’re sharing a room with Lauren, right? Not the broody, handsome boy?”
I grinned. Max would hate being described that way. “Not a chance.”
“I don’t mind the other one.”
“Angus is gay, Mom.”
“Are you sure? Sometimes they seem that way, but they’re really metrosexual. You see it on the TV all the time.”
“I’ve met his boyfriend.”
“That’s compelling evidence.” She sounded disappointed. “Well, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any problems with the apartment.”
“Nope, it’s great.”
“When does school start?”
“In two days.”
“Do you have everything you need? Things are tight, but—”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
Whatever she was going to offer, I couldn’t accept it. They had scrimped, saved and sacrificed enough for me. Two more years, and I’d graduate with a degree in special education; going forward, I was determined to stand on my own two feet. My parents didn’t know this, but I had been keeping a tally of what they paid and I intended to reimburse them after I got my first teaching position. They’d never asked me to, but I knew how hard they’d worked. For a while my mom had two jobs to keep me in school, until she got promoted to management at the supermarket. Paying back that money would give them a nest egg for the future or maybe they could finally take a vacation. It made me smile to think about giving back.
“I’ll send you a care package,” she said, and I could hear the pride in her voice. “I can’t wait to write your new address on the label.”
“I thought you were supposed to be sad that your baby’s grown up,” I teased her.
“It makes me feel like I did my job to see you spread your wings and fly.”
O
h, Lord. I had to get off the phone before my mom started in with the butterfly talk. I was an ugly duckling as a kid, slightly better in high school, and I’d more or less grown into my looks by college. I had dark, curly hair, a long nose, sharp chin and strong cheekbones. You could say my face had character. Mom claimed I had “good bones,” which meant I’d age well, like Katharine Hepburn. Since I barely knew who that was now—and she was a really old woman who died when I was a kid—that wasn’t much comfort at age nine.
“Love you, Mom. Kiss Dad and Rob for me.” Rob being my older brother, who had gone into construction like my dad.
“Will do. I’m handing the phone to your father.”
“Hey, bean.” My brother used to call me string bean. Though I wasn’t as skinny these days, my dad kept up the tradition.
“How are things?”
He hesitated. “Not bad. Not sure if your mother mentioned it, but Rob’s looking at property. Might buy his own place soon.”
“You approve?” I guessed.
“Yep. It’s about time. Do you need anything?” Dad was taciturn at the best of times, prone to showing his affection in gestures more than words.
“Nah. Mom already asked. How’s work?”
“I’m building a strip mall right now. Bit of an eyesore but it’s a living.”
His calm pragmatism reminded me of countless problems over the years. When the chain broke on my bike, he was there with the tools to fix it. “I miss you, Dad.”
“Back at you. Talk soon.” He hung up soon after.
When I went to the kitchen for some water, Lauren had nodded off on Angus’s shoulder, and Max was gone. I didn’t ask; Angus didn’t tell me. With a silent wave, I got my drink and went out onto the balcony to look at the stars. Exhaling in a slow sigh, I listened to the crickets, eventually joined by the low murmur of a man’s voice.
The window must be open in the bedroom downstairs.
It sounded like somebody—Ty?—was reading Goodnight Moon, in a tone that suggested he’d done it a hundred times before. A much lighter voice spoke in response and then there was silence. That’s definitely a kid.
I didn’t realize I’d leaned forward until a noise below froze me. Ty stepped out into his courtyard. In the moonlight, it was beautiful: solar lamps by the fence, a potted herb garden, hanging baskets of flowers and wicker furniture padded with striped cushions. My first thought was that a woman must live with him because a guy wouldn’t take such good care of his patio. Then I chided myself for being judgmental; I hated when people made assumptions about me, based on my height and build.
You must play basketball. No? Well, what’s your favorite sport?
As I thought that, he did the most peculiar thing. He walked to the edge of the wooden fence, rested his head on it, balled up a fist and pressed it to the back of his head. Not exactly what I’d do if I had a headache. More...exhaustion, despair or some emotion I couldn’t name. This felt too personal for me to watch, and I hadn’t meant to. But if I moved, he’d hear me.
Just then, like he sensed me watching, Ty turned and looked up. In the dark, I couldn’t see his eyes, but I recalled them as golden-brown with all the sharpness of a hunting hawk. For some reason, I couldn’t move; I didn’t dare straighten. I didn’t want him to think he’d driven me off my balcony, but I wasn’t spying, either. We just stood there staring at each other, not stirring, not speaking. He didn’t smile. Tension raveled between us in silvery skeins, pulled taut by his silence and my stillness.
Then he quietly went back inside, snapping our momentary connection with a certainty that stung on the recoil.
Copyright © 2014 by Ann Aguirre
ISBN-13: 9781460340264
As Long As You Love Me
Copyright © 2014 by Ann Aguirre
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