Once Larry was gone, Bindi turned to Steve. “I’m sorry about not taking the bed apart. I’ll do it now. I’ll figure out how.”
“It’s okay! Calm, calm, calm.” His gentle laughter put her at ease. Bindi almost wished he would wrap his arms around her so she could press her cheek to his chest and breathe in the masculine scent of him.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m such a psycho today.”
“You’re not a psycho. Moving is stressful.”
She looked at the bed, wondering how the hell this thing would come apart.
“We can do it together,” Steve suggested.
Bindi perked up.
“Is it from Ikea?”
She nodded.
“Perfect.” Fishing two Allen wrenches from his pocket, he said, “We’ll work on it together.”
When smug Larry swept back in, Steve convinced him to help move the mattress and box spring out to the truck. After that, Larry begrudgingly continued to carry boxes and luggage while Steve showed Bindi how to take apart her bed.
“Who put it together?” he asked when they were alone in her room.
“My parents. They like doing things for me.”
“That’s nice.”
Bindi wrinkled her nose. “I guess. But it means I don’t end up doing things for myself. If I’d put this bed together, then I’d know how to take it apart.”
“True.” He looked at her across the naked slats, and smiled. “When my girls were young, they’d come out to the garage and work on the cars. Whenever something needed fixing, they were right there by my side.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Bindi turned the screw slowly. “How many kids do you have?”
“Just the two girls, both grown and out of the house. Jess is a contractor, Vivian’s working on her Masters.”
Bindi forced a smile. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly felt so irritable. “You and your wife must be very proud.”
Steve’s brow furrowed just slightly. “That’s very kind of you, but my wife is no longer my wife.”
“Oh.” Bindi tried to unscrew the bed as quietly as possible. What did that mean, she wasn’t his wife any longer?
“Sharon met someone else.”
“Oh…”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Really. I can certainly understand her need. The shifts I worked could be all night, easily. There were some weeks when we almost never saw each other. I think we always loved each other… well, I know I always loved her… but she wanted stability. She wanted a husband who was home in the evenings. The funny thing is, I retired not long after she divorced me. If she just could have waited another year…”
“I really am sorry,” Bindi said, and meant it. “I had a boyfriend when I started looking at apartments. We picked this place together—the place I’m moving to. It wasn’t even my favourite. He liked it the best, and I just went along.”
“That’s a shame.”
Bindi shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m still excited to move. I’m actually kind of glad to live alone instead of going from my parents’ house to shacking up with some dude. My parents would freak even harder if I’d moved in with a guy before marriage.”
“Ahh, they didn’t react well to your news?”
Laughing, Bindi covered her eyes with both hands. “I haven’t told them yet.”
“What?” Steve sounded incredulous.
Bindi pulled her hands away from her face. “They’re on vacation. I didn’t tell them I was moving. They’re just gonna come home and find my room empty.”
Steve chuckled along, though she wasn’t sure if he was actually amused.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. A grown woman with a good job should be able to tell her parents she’s getting her own place. I just didn’t want them being disappointed with me.”
Sweat-soaked Larry swaggered into the room, grumbling under his breath. Bindi cringed, worrying he might insult her again, but he just snapped up another box and turned right around.
“I can’t imagine your parents being disappointed because you’re seeking independence. It’s natural for young people to want to carve their own paths.”
A blush burned across Bindi’s cheeks. She didn’t want him seeing her as a kid, even if she was years and years younger than him.
“Okay, let’s do this,” Steve said. “We’ll work together. Use all your strength and don’t be shy!”
Her heart pounded as they took the bed apart. She couldn’t believe she was really doing it. She’d really helped. It was amazingly empowering.
As she gazed at Steve across a pile of neatly-stacked bed slats, Larry burst in. “Would it kill you to offer me a glass of water? I’m busting my hump while Steve’s in here, hogging all the air conditioning.”
“Of course,” Bindi replied, though Larry was barely a blot on her radar.
She led him to the kitchen and offered him anything he wanted out of the fridge. He zeroed in on some deli meat, and asked where they kept the bread. Usually it would have pissed her off that this guy was making a sandwich on her dime, but at the moment she felt strangely elated, like her feet were floating above the surface of the earth. The wine rack caught her eye as she was leaving the kitchen, and she snapped up a couple bottles, though she’d never been much of a drinker. She could toast her new apartment, when she got there.
Of course, once Larry and Steve had moved her stuff into the new place, Bindi realized she had no wine glasses. She had no glasses of any kind. How could she have overlooked something so basic? She’d planned to go out the next morning and buy a set of dishes and cutlery, but she hadn’t even considered glassware. What else had she forgotten?
The callbox beside the door buzzed like an angry wasp, and Bindi’s heart jumped into her throat. Somebody was downstairs, trying to get in the front door. She raced to the box. Was she supposed to press the button on the left or the one on the right to talk? She guessed left, but the buzzer made a grinding sound, and she jumped away from it.
Everything in her downtown apartment seemed scary now that night had fallen. It was stuffy, and she had no air conditioner, so she’d opened all the windows. Sounds from outside overwhelmed her tired brain: drunk guys fighting, kids on skateboards, sirens and blaring bass notes from passing cars. She could hear a TV, too, but that was coming through the wall.
At least the suburbs were quiet at night.
When somebody knocked at her door, her hands rolled into fists, like she was ready for a fight. She crept close enough to look through the peephole, and her shoulders fell.
“What are you doing here?” she asked before the door was open all the way.
“Sorry to disturb you. I know it’s late.” Steve humbly handed over her purse. “You left this in the truck.”
“Oh my god, thank you!” Bindi’s heart raced, and she wasn’t sure if it was the thought that she’d nearly lost her wallet, or if she was just relieved to see a familiar face. “I’m such an idiot. I can’t believe I forgot this.”
“I wouldn’t have come so late unless it was important.”
As Steve stood in the rundown hallway, Bindi’s eyes filled with tears. “No, I’m glad you came. I’m so glad to see you. You have no idea…”
He crossed the threshold when she started weeping into her purse. “Oh no! What’s wrong? What can I do?”
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “I’ve never lived alone before, and I don’t have any wine glasses! I didn’t think. I don’t know what I need.”
She fell against the hard slab of Steve’s chest, soaking his T-shirt with tears. What was wrong with her? Why was she so emotional?
At first, Steve didn’t react. Bindi felt his body tense against hers before giving in to the embrace. He wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her so hard she thought they might melt together like two slabs of wet clay.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“There’s a twenty-four-hour convenience store across the street,” Steve said.
She leaned back and laughed. “Huh?”
“You said you needed wine glasses.”
“Oh, they won’t sell wine glasses at a mini mart.”
Steve’s eyebrow arched. “Want a bet?”
“Sure,” she said, feeling cocky.
“How much?”
“I’ll bet you the bottle of red.” Bindi pointed to the twist-top bottle on the kitchen counter. “What do I get if I win?”
Steve stepped into the hall. “Oh, you won’t win.”
And he was right. Who knew? She watched him out her front window as he crossed the street. He wasn’t in the convenience store long, but sure enough, he emerged with a party pack of plastic wine glasses.
“And a bag of kettle chips,” he said, when he got to her door. “Because red wine pairs well with kettle chips.”
Bindi laughed, and invited him inside. “I wish I had a couch or something to sit on. Even my bed isn’t put together yet.”
“I’ll help you,” Steve offered. “We’ll have a little Saturday night house party: red wine, kettle chips, furniture assembly. Does that sound like the downtown nightlife, or what?”
She couldn’t stop giggling, though tears were still rolling down her cheeks. She probably looked hysterical, but Steve smiled like he understood completely. He closed the front door as she slipped into her narrow galley kitchen.
“I know there’s not much space. Rents are high downtown.” She felt she ought to apologize for the tight squeeze, though she had to admit, she liked feeling Steve’s hard body behind hers. “This was the best I could afford.”
“I love it. Once you get some furniture, it’ll look even better.”
Heat pumped out of him, and it reminded her of the moving van, and meeting him, and thinking he was sexy, and then thinking he was old. As he reached over her shoulder to pour wine into plastic goblets, she realized those two qualities were not mutually exclusive.
“Tomorrow I’ll go shopping and look at couches, tables… what else do I need?”
“I wouldn’t worry about everything all at once—you’ll get overwhelmed that way. Every time you need something, write it down. Try to accumulate over time rather than buying everything at once.” He took a sip of wine. “Oh, that’s good stuff.”
She breathed deeply, feeling his front against her back. Was he hard? She tried feeling around with her ass, but she wasn’t totally sure. How obvious was this? She might as well wear a neon sign that said, “Am I turning you on, Steve?”
Bindi’s heart fluttered, and she swept out of the kitchen. “Better get started on this bed, huh?”
“Sure.” He grabbed a handful of chips and followed her to her bedroom.
As they laid out the wood slats, Bindi stole a not-so-subtle glance at Steve. “I’m surprised you don’t have plans on a Saturday night. You don’t have a girlfriend or anything?”
He shook his head. That was definitely a blush.
“Have you dated anyone since your wife…?” Bindi didn’t want to say “left you,” so she didn’t say anything.
“I wouldn’t say dated.” He handed her one of the Allen keys from his pocket. “There was a lady from the neighbourhood who… well, she was nice to me. She was around a lot. It wasn’t a big thing…”
Suddenly, a new noise burst through the bedroom wall. It might have been a TV, but she didn’t think so. It sounded more like… grunting?
“Oh baby, don’t stop.”
Groaning?
“Yeah, you like it dirty.”
Moaning?
“I like it filthy and nasty, baby. Give it to me hard.”
Coming?
“Harder!”
“Yes!”
“Yeah, baby. That’s it. Right there. Fuck yeah!”
Bindi chugged the rest of her wine. “I’m gonna get some more.”
“Bring the bottle.”
She brought more than just the bottle. Rifling through her boxes, she found the clock radio and plugged it in. “What should we listen to?”
“Anything.” Steve seemed anxious, even though the noise from next door had died down. “Oh, that’s good. Leave it there.”
Hot jazz. It wasn’t a station Bindi recognized, but she liked it. Sweat drizzled down her temples as she threw herself into building the bed. God, it was a humid night. And, if she wasn’t much mistaken, the city’s grit was sticking to her skin like beach sand. “Uck, I need a shower.”
Steve gazed at her from across the bed frame. “You’ve got one, I assume.”
“Yeah. I hope it has good water pressure.”
“You mean you didn’t test it out before you rented the place?”
She laughed, but judging by his expression, he wasn’t joking. “What do you mean? Like, take a shower while the agent’s waiting outside?”
This time, it was Steve who laughed. “No, just turn on all the taps, see what comes out. Flush the toilet, look in the fridge, turn on the oven. You want to make sure everything is in working order, and that if it’s not, it’ll be replaced before you move in.”
“Oh.” Bindi felt pretty dumb. “I didn’t do any of that. Wow, I can’t believe how stupid I am.”
“You’re not stupid.” Steve tsked. “You know that. Now, if you’d like to test out that shower, feel free. I’ll just keep working on the bed.”
“No, no.” Strangely, it wasn’t the fact that she would be naked one room away from a man she’d just met that made the decision. She wanted to help put this bed together. “Maybe after it’s built and I’ve really worked up a sweat.”
He swallowed so hard she heard him. His apprehension brought a grin to her lips. Was he concerned Bindi would turn into the nice-neighbour-lady and make a play at his wholesome bod?
All this handiwork would have been much easier if the air hadn’t been so thick. She didn’t even have a fan, and she said to Steve, “I bet they don’t stock those at the convenience store.”
“You’re on.” He shook her sweaty hand before they each grabbed one side of the box spring. “What do I get if I win?”
She must have been half drunk, because she said, “Whatever you want, big boy.”
His jaw slackened, and the box spring fell from his hands. Fortunately, he’d been holding it over the bed frame, and it landed just where it belonged. Still, Bindi laughed as she wedged her side in place, then went for the mattress. “You’re really cute, you know that?”
“Cute,” Steve scoffed. “Hardly.”
“Okay, handsome.” She couldn’t even look at him. What if he freaked out? Maybe it was weird for him, getting hit on by a twenty-something. She wasn’t much older than his kids.
In silence, Steve lifted one side of the mattress while Bindi carried the other. As soon as they’d dropped it on the box spring, she shot into the living room, in search of bedding. She knew she’d packed linens.
“I think I’ll head out,” Steve said, shoving his feet into those big rubber fireman boots.
“Nooo!” Bindi whined. The word escaped before she could stop it, and she covered her mouth with both hands. “Sorry. I mean, go if you want. Thanks for your help, and for bringing my purse.”
Steve’s expression fell, and after a moment, he laughed. “Oh, I only meant I was going to the convenience store. To settle our bet? See if they sell electric fans? Remember?”
Bindi’s heart raced, but her shoulders fell. She tossed her head back and laughed. “Okay, well take my keys so you can get back in. I’m gonna jump in the shower.”
With a playful smirk, he grabbed her keys from the counter. “You just think about what you’re gonna give me when I win.”
She closed the door on him, whispering to herself, “I think we both know.”
Racing across the apartment, Bindi dug through luggage, finding a towel and a robe. What else did she need? Soap, of course. She opened the box with all her bathroom stuff, and a box of condoms jumped out at her. Her breath caught in her lungs. They seemed to be shouting, “Use us!”
Bindi gulped. Tucking the box inside her robe’s wide pocket, she raced for the shower.
The water was brown when she first turned it on. “Eww!”
Steve had been right. She should have checked the place out a little better.
But as the shower ran, the water became clear. The brown stuff must have been rust from the pipes. It probably hadn’t been used in a couple of weeks. She reached into the stall and felt for temperature. Nice.
When she stepped into that glass box of steam, all the grit of the day washed off her skin. Drawing soap across her body, she covered herself with suds. It felt wonderful not to be sticky and sweaty and covered in dirt. Her skin luxuriated in the soap as she turned around, rinsing out her long hair. It smelled like… she wasn’t even sure what that smell was, but she was happy to wash it away.
When she turned off the water, Bindi stood in the shower stall and listened intently. Had Steve come back? Hard to tell. All she could hear was the radio in the bedroom.
She dried herself off, and then wrapped her hair in the towel. Was that a creak in the hall? Her heart beat so fast she could scarcely hear over its thundering. Bindi tossed the robe over her shoulders and tied its belt loosely. When she opened the bathroom door, the air on the other side felt moderately cool. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkened bedroom, and there stood a wide-shouldered form plugging a fan into the wall.
Bindi laughed. “The convenience store really sells fans?”
“No,” Steve admitted without turning around. “I bought the one they were using behind the counter.”
“Oh, now those poor people will be hot all night.”
“But you won’t be.”
She almost said, “Wanna bet?” but stopped herself.
Steve looked up from the electrical socket, and his eyes flashed like he’d received a shock. “So the shower works?”
“Yeah.” She leaned against the table where Steve had placed the fan, and then realized she’d never seen it before. “Where did this come from?”
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