"Raine, what's wrong?" I feel Miles' hand on mine and look up at him.
"What do you mean?"
"You got all serious all of a sudden. You almost looked scared."
"Sorry." I force out a smile. "I was just thinking about something."
"What were you thinking about?"
"Nothing. Ready to go?"
"Not really. I know it's been a couple hours but I'm not ready to say goodnight yet."
"A couple hours?" I look down at my wrist but there's no watch there. I used to have one I found on the street but I lost it. "We've been gone that long?" I panic, worried about Gladys. I scoot out of the booth. "I have to go."
Miles hurries to get up. "Hold on."
I don't wait for him. I race through the restaurant and out the front door.
Miles catches up to me on the street. "She's fine."
"You don't know that."
"I'm sure Shelly checked on her."
"She didn't. Shelly hates us. She only puts up with us because Zoe is her boss and the one who hired her." I walk quickly, looking left and right and behind me, like I always do when it's dark and the streets are empty, to make sure I'm not going to be attacked.
"How long has Gladys been on the streets?" Miles asks.
"A couple years. Her husband got really sick and all the money they had went to pay for his meds. When he died, there was nothing left."
"Did they have a house?"
“They sold it to pay his medical bills. They were renting an apartment but Gladys ran out of rent money after he died. She was in a lot of debt. Had to sell her car. She had nothing left and no family so she ended up on the streets."
"If she survived all that, then she's tougher than you give her credit for."
"She's old and she's sick and I promised to take care of her." I leave it at that, not wanting to talk about it. Taking care of Gladys is my job and I don't want him telling me otherwise.
When we get to the alley, I race over to the tent and unzip it. Gladys is inside, curled up in the blanket, sound asleep. I quietly zip the tent and stand up, turning to Miles.
"She's sleeping."
"See? I told you she'd be fine."
I nod. "So um, thanks for dinner. I'll see ya around."
"It's not even nine. You want to go do something?"
I'm about to tell him no but then my mouth blurts out, "Like what?"
"We could take a walk. I could show you were I live. We don't have to go inside. I could just show you the building, in case you want to drop by sometime." He smiles, that damn smile that makes me agree to things I shouldn't agree to.
"I guess we could do that."
"Are you cold?"
"A little but I'll be fine."
"I have a sweatshirt in my car. Let's go get it."
I follow him to the car. Being a lawyer, I thought he'd have some fancy expensive car but it's just a basic hatchback that's probably ten years old.
"Here." He puts a gray hoodie around my shoulders. "Is that better?"
"Yeah. Thanks." I slip my arms into it and wrap the soft fabric around me, wishing I had one just like it. My one and only hoodie is thin and scratchy and has a hole in the sleeve.
He chuckles. "You're swimming in that."
"It's a little big but it feels good. It's really soft."
"You can have it if you want."
"I've taken enough. I'm not taking any more from you."
"Okay, but if you don't want it, I'm just going to throw it out."
"Why would you throw it out? There's nothing wrong with it."
"It's old and I don't need it. I have more sweatshirts than I can wear."
"If you're throwing it out, then I'll keep it. It's so soft I might even sleep in it."
He looks at me and smiles.
Wait, did he trick me just now? Did he say he was throwing it out to get me to take it?
"I know what you did," I say.
"Then tell me, because I don't know what you're talking about."
"The sweatshirt. You tricked me into taking it."
He laughs. "I tricked you into taking an old sweatshirt I was going to throw out?"
"Yes. Because you weren't going to throw it out. It's too nice to throw out. Nobody would throw out a sweatshirt like this."
"If it was that great, it wouldn't be in the back of my car. It'd be in my closet."
That's true, so maybe he wasn't tricking me.
We cross the street and go down a block to the street that parallels mine. There's nobody around and I start to wonder if I can trust him. I feel like I can, but I felt that way with Rob and was completely wrong.
"Maybe I should just go home," I say, questioning my decision to spend more time with Miles. I want to, but I shouldn't.
"It's right here." He points to the building in front of us. "I told you it was close to the coffee shop."
He wasn't kidding. It's only a couple blocks away.
"Nice building," I tell him, noticing how new it looks. It can't be more than a few years old.
"Yeah, I like it. And I like being close to work. I can walk there instead of taking my car."
I stop as we approach his building. "You could've walked to the coffee shop tonight."
"I could've, but I brought the car because I thought we'd be driving somewhere for dinner. I get why you didn't want to. We haven't known each other long but I can assure you I'm completely harmless. You could ask Greg if you don't believe me. We could call him right now if you want."
"Who's Greg?"
"My best friend from back home. He's known me my whole life. Knows me better than anyone. You want me to call him?"
"No. I think I'll just head home."
"You sure? We could walk some more."
"I walk all day long. I don't really need more exercise."
"Yeah. Sorry, I wasn't thinking about that."
"It's fine." I look up at him and my heart beats faster. It happens whenever we're close like this and I look at him. It's why I keep keep looking away.
"I almost forgot," he says. "Your backpack is upstairs. I was going to bring it to you tonight but I was in a hurry and left it. Do you want to go get it?"
"Um, I don't know," I say, not sure I should go in his apartment. I really want to trust him, and part of me does, but the other part is telling me to run. But I really need my backpack.
"I'd go up and get it myself," he says, "but I don't want to leave you here alone on the street." He glances at his building. "I'll tell you what. We can go in together and you can wait in the hall while I run in and get it."
I nod. "Okay."
We go inside and up to the third floor. The building is very industrial looking with lots of metal beams and gray walls. It's kind of depressing.
"It's this one," he says, stopping in front of the door. He unlocks it and goes inside, holding open the door. "You don't have to come inside but if you want to check it out, this is it. It's a studio loft so just one open room."
I peek inside. His apartment is much brighter and cheerier than the dreary hallway. There's a black leather sofa across from a big TV and on the walls are several brightly colored paintings.
"Do you collect art?" I ask.
He laughs. "I guess you could say that."
"Meaning what?"
"Greg did those. He likes to paint. He has so many paintings he'll give them to anyone who'll take them. I needed something for the walls so he loaded up the moving van with them."
"They're really good. I like the colors."
"You want one? Because believe me, I can get more. Greg lives at his mom's house and she keeps telling him to get rid of them. They're filling up her basement."
"I don't really have a place for art," I say with a smile.
"Set it against the building. It'll brighten up the place."
"I don't think so, but thanks anyway."
"Raine, take one. I'm serious."
"Why? Just so you can get rid of one?"
"No
, not at all. I just think you might like it. You could look at it and maybe it'd make you feel better."
"How would it make me feel better?"
He points to the wall across from us where two paintings are hung. "The bright colors cheer you up, especially on a gloomy day. And if you stare at the abstract lines long enough, they start to form a picture in your head. Every time you look at it you see something you didn't see before." He turns back to me. "It's like a game." He grins. "It can be very entertaining."
"You don't get out much, do you?" I kid.
He shrugs. "I'm from a small town. Not much to do there. So what do you think? You want a painting? Greg would be thrilled to know someone else has one. He'd feel like an actual artist."
"Not if he knew his painting was sitting in an alley."
"If someone was looking at it and appreciating it, he'd be happy. I guarantee it." He motions me inside. "Come look at the others. I have them all over the walls. You can have whatever one you want."
I shake my head. "That's okay. I'll just wait here."
"Raine, I promise you nothing's going to happen."
"I don't believe in promises," I mutter.
"What was that?" he asks. "I didn't hear you."
"Nothing." I look at him, specifically his eyes. I've heard eyes tell you more about a person than anything else. Rob had dark smoldering eyes that drew me in the first time I saw him. But I could feel something in those eyes that didn't seem right. At the time I told myself it was attraction giving me that nervous flutter I felt when he looked at me. Then later, I convinced myself it was love. Now I know those feelings were my gut telling me not to trust him. Telling me to run from him.
I don't feel any of that when I look at Miles' eyes. Like Rob, Miles has eyes that capture my attention and make me not want to look away. They stir something in me, but it's not the feeling I had with Rob. It's different. I can't really explain it. I'm still trying to figure it out.
"You want to come inside?" Miles asks.
"I guess I could." I step into the apartment but remain by the door.
"Feel free to look around," he says. "I'll go get your backpack."
The ceilings are high, and when I look up I see stairs leading to another room. His bedroom. It's lofted above the main level and open so you can see it from the door.
"What do you think?" he says from the kitchen.
"Is that your bedroom?" I ask, looking up at it.
"Yeah. Why?"
"It's not very private."
"I'm going to get some curtains eventually. For now, I don't mind it being open. I don't have any visitors." He smiles. "Except for you. You're my first one."
He walks over to me holding a navy blue backpack that looks much newer and cleaner than my old one.
I point to it. "What's that?"
"Your backpack."
"That's not mine."
"I know." He holds it up. "I got you a new one."
I sigh. "Miles, I told you not to do that."
"And I told you I was going to. It was on sale. I promise."
"You don't listen," I say, annoyed.
"That IS a flaw of mine," he says, trying to be serious but his lips are turning up.
"What are your other flaws?" I turn and lean against the door, my hand on my hip.
"Hmm." He pauses to think. "Might need some time to think about that."
"Seriously?" I shake my head. "Okay, I'll give you one. You lack humility."
"Not true. Try again."
"If you can't think of a single flaw, you lack humility."
"I gave you a flaw. I don't listen when people tell me to do something that needs to be done. And just to be clear, in other situations, I'm a very good listener."
"What other situations?"
"If you need to talk or just vent after a bad day, I'm your guy." He holds the backpack out to me. "Just try it out. If you don't like it, I'll put it outside and put a free sign on it."
"Don't do that," I say, snatching it from him. "Someone will take it."
"Which is what I want. I don't want to keep it."
"If you leave it outside, someone like Levi will take it," I say, inspecting the bag. It's a really nice backpack. Way better than my old one.
"Who's Levi?"
"The homeless guy who hangs out across from the bank and sings for money."
"I think I've seen that guy. I've seen him singing while walking around too."
"He only does that if he isn't making enough money on his corner that day. He makes more money than some people make at an actual job. And he takes stuff, too. Whatever he finds. And then he sells it. He doesn't even use it, which is why you shouldn't put this backpack on the street."
"Maybe someone else will take it. Someone who actually needs it."
"I need it. I just...I can't take it."
"Okay." He takes it from me. "I'll go get your old one." He walks away.
Damn him! He's doing it again. Tricking me into taking something I shouldn't take. He's clever. I'll give him that. And he seems to already have me figured out. That's concerning because I haven't figured myself out.
11
Raine
"Wait!" I rush up to Miles. "Let me see it again."
"Why?"
"Just give it to me."
He hands it over and I swing it around my back and try it on.
"It fits pretty good and the straps don't dig into my shoulders."
He shrugs. "Yeah, but that doesn't matter if you're not going to use it. I'll just give it to someone else." He walks to the kitchen, reaches behind the counter and pulls out my old backpack. He brings it over to me. "Here you go."
Seeing it now, it looks worse than I remembered. And the smell. I'm a good foot away from it and can smell it from here. It reeks like rotting food and whatever's growing in there.
"Aren't you going to take it?" he asks, holding it in front of me.
"Um, actually, I think I'll go with this one." I point to the new one, which is still on my back.
"You said you didn't want it."
"I don't, but if you're just going to leave it outside, I might as well take it. I mean, if I found it I'd take it so..."
"So you'll take something you find but not something that's given to you?"
"Yeah. I guess."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Doesn't have to."
He cocks his head. "Why won't you take stuff? What happened to make you turn down what people give you?"
"Nothing." I hear the defensiveness in my tone and clear my throat. "I just don't like handouts."
"That backpack wasn't a handout."
"Then what was it?"
"A gift for you being nice to me."
"I was nice to you?"
He chuckles. "You sound surprised. Are you normally not nice?"
"I am to some people, but I wouldn't say I've been that nice to you."
"Sure you have. You had coffee with me. Dinner. You helped welcome me to town. For all that, I had to give you at least a small thank you gift."
"If you say so, although I'd say your standards are pretty low."
"My standards are high, actually, especially when it comes to people."
I don't know what he means and I don't want to ask. I take the backpack off and set it on the floor. "What's in here?"
"Open it up and see."
I unzip it and find beef jerky, candy bars, peanut butter, a squeeze bottle of jam, a jar of nuts, and other food that doesn't go bad.
"You bought me food," I say, zipping up the backpack and standing up.
"Just some snacks for when I come to visit."
"That's not why," I say, getting angry. "You got me food because you feel sorry for me. And you know what I hate more than anything?"
"People feeling sorry for you," he answers. "Pitying you. Looking down on you."
"Exactly." I kick the backpack. "So take the stupid food for yourself. I don't need it."
"Really? Is that why y
ou search the garbage every day? Because you don't need food?"
"Fuck off," I say, yanking open the door. "I'm leaving."
"Raine, wait." He stands behind me. "If you don't want the food, I'll take it back. I'm not making you take it. I'm giving you the choice. I don't feel sorry for you. Or pity you. What I feel bad about is your situation and whatever got you into it." He pauses. "I don't know what happened but I know you're strong and smart and trying to figure out how to get back on your feet. You may have lost everything but you haven't lost your right to make decisions. Taking that food is a decision. That's all it is, Raine. Take it, leave it. It's up to you."
I go back inside, close the door, and turn to face him. "But that's the problem."
"What?"
"I don't trust myself to make decisions, not even with something as simple as whether or not to take a few candy bars and some beef jerky."
His brows draw together. "Why? Why don't you trust yourself?"
Looking down, I say, "I made some bad decisions."
"It's okay to make bad decisions. It's how we learn. We're given choices every day. Sometimes we make the right choice, sometimes we don't. That doesn't mean we stop making them."
I hadn't thought about it that way. I thought things were just happening to me and I wasn't making decisions but I guess I've been making them this whole time. Choosing to live in that alley. Taking care of Gladys. Deciding to fend for myself instead of beg. Those were all my decisions and they were actually good ones, or as good as they could be given my situation. So maybe I CAN make good decisions, but I still don't trust myself when it comes to letting people into my life. I told myself Gladys would be it. I wouldn't let anyone else in but her.
Miles picks up the backpack. "Do you want it or not? I'll take the food out if you don't want it."
"I want it. Although I don't know what I'll do with all that free time not spent searching the garbage." I half smile.
"What do you like to do?"
"Like for fun?"
"Yeah." He sets the backpack by the door and comes around in front of me. "I assume you like having fun."
"It's been so long since I've had it that I don't really know."
"Movies? Sports? Roller coasters? Any of those sound fun?"
"I like movies but I haven't been to one for over a year. Sports? Not at all. My dad used to bet on sports and if he lost he'd get really drunk and yell and throw shit until he passed out."
Home With You Page 10