“I guess I'm not a threat then? Or do you normally space out around people you don’t trust?”
She chuckles she has such a nice laugh. I always have so much trouble keeping a straight face when she laughs.
“Touché. I will take a chocolate milk shake if you are getting something.”
I smile at the change in conversation and nod. She doesn’t think I will spike her drink, which is progress.
“Okay I'll be right back.”
I get up and go to the counter. I watch her from the line. She is looking at everyone in the place. Is she looking for someone she knows so she can get away? I don’t think so. She looks almost scared that she will recognize someone.
“Here you go.”
I got her a large, since she hadn’t specified a size. She looks at it in awe. She hadn’t been expecting one that big?
“Wow that’s large. I don’t know if I can drink all this.”
I shrug and began eating, waiting for her to say something or give any indication as to whether or not she has made a decision. She looks nervous. She has never been nervous around me. Her first email to had been on the verge of bossy.
“So, how long before we can hire people to move my stuff and leave this God forsaken place?”
“So you want the job? You haven’t asked me any questions. You’ve barely talked since I arrived.” We haven’t discussed any of the details of her working for me and as that is the reason I am here. I’m not sure how I feel about the wasted trip.
“I know.”
“Aren’t you afraid of moving in with me?”
She shrugs. Apparently not.
“No. Not as much as I should be. I will have far more freedom than I ever had before no matter what schedule you set for me.”
“Is there something in particular I should know?”
Is she going to stab me in my sleep because she has developed a hatred for all men? As if reading my mind she laughs and says, “I'm not likely to let you know how damaged I am before moving in with you. You’d change your mind.”
No I wouldn’t. She is the only interview I have conducted that I haven’t felt like I am hiring myself a babysitter instead of a housekeeper and cook. My doctor wanted a nurse to stay with me. Apparently I don’t remember to eat or exercise enough. I bargained that I hire a live in housekeeper and cook and, if at my next check I showed improvement, I could avoid the nurse. He agreed to give me three months and the search began. I need someone to clean anyway, I suck at it. I just don’t have the time for it, or anything really, with all the work I do. “I doubt it.”
When I finish she gets up and throws away her cup and my trash. I can’t resist the urge to be a little sarcastic. “You’re doing so well already. You’re gonna make a great housekeeper. Hopefully you’re this good at cooking too.”
She sticks her tongue out at me and smiles. This is much more the ‘her’ I have gotten to know.
“Ha ha. I'll have you know I'm a great cook as long as you aren’t picky.”
I laugh and stand up, adjusting my computer bag strap, and head towards the door. “That inspires confidence.”
She shrugs.
“Do you have any allergies?”
We walk out the door and I can’t help but give her a look. Wasn’t lunch supposed to be when we discussed everything?
“All the things we should have talked about over lunch and you only ask me that now?”
“I'm not usually this off I promise. This whole situation has me a bit off my game.”
I nod and shrug. Hmmm, I don’t have any allergies. I wonder if she does. What if she is allergic to something I love?
“No allergies that I know of. Do you? I want to make sure when I have people over we don’t order anything you might die from eating.”
“Do you have a lot of girls over?”
I laugh. Not in this lifetime. “None actually. It’s just once a week my guy friends all show up at my place and we have a gaming and anime night. I was referring to those.”
I have mentioned it to her before when telling her I wouldn’t be available Friday nights or Saturday mornings for instruction, since that’s when they all crash at my place. At twenty-four I am one of the few that have my own place, and I am the only one that isn’t in a crummy apartment. Other than Tommy, who won’t invite the guys over because he always has his girl of the week living with him.
“Oh. Well yes I'm allergic to shellfish. And I hate lima beans and brussel sprouts.”
“Okay, I can live without those things.”
She smiles and again I want to smile.
“Anything you hate?”
Other than brussel sprouts and lima beans? Good things to hate, does anyone really like them other than old people? “Asparagus.”
“Oh I hate that too I just forgot to add it to the list.”
Convenient. Looks like we won’t have any start up problems. “Sounds like we are compatible to live together.”
She nods and looks thoughtful.
“Do you leave the toilet seat up?”
I am so shocked I stop for a second trying to figure out if she is serious or not. It seems so.
“You have your own bathroom. The place I rent has three bedrooms. Two rooms have a full bath between them. One is my office, the other my bedroom. I tore out chunks of the walls and have doors going between the bathroom and both rooms making it more convenient. The other room is a master bed and bath. That one would be yours.
“I chose what was most convenient for me when I first moved in. Your bedroom is bigger and the bathroom will be strictly for you. The guys and visitors will use my bathroom since you don’t have to go through anyone’s bedroom to get to it. So if I leave the seat up you can go to your bathroom and not be frustrated with me.”
“Okay. Are you sure you don’t want the master rooms?”
I shrug. I actually already have it all set up like this. I’m not just changing it because she is moving in.
“I'm not lying when I said I had this set up already. That room is empty except for furniture, the place came furnished except for electronics. It has a dishwasher to. It was a requirement because I can’t scrub a dish to save my life.”
Sadly I’m not lying, but she looks at me like she is afraid for me if I am being serious. I take it most normal people can wash dishes.
“You don’t look like you eat enough to keep a bird alive let alone dirty a dish.”
I shrug. So I have heard. The doctor told me something along those lines, but the doctor had actually cursed. I had never heard a doctor curse before.
“I often forget to check the time when I work. When I travel for work I eat more, business lunches and what not. When the guys come over they shove massive amounts of high calorie food down my throat. They think that one night a week keeps me from dying.”
“They are likely right.”
I laugh and shrug.
“I’m not that bad. My friend Bobbi brings me a meal a day, but it’s never anything remotely tasty.”
“So my job is to fatten you up with things that aren’t all grease.”
“He would say things with a calorie, carb, and fat limit, but don’t feel you need to follow those rules. I’ve never been a huge health nut. I'm not going vegan anytime soon let’s just put it that way.”
She laughs. Apparently she isn’t either if that look is any indication.
“I myself love my meat products. I tend to do a lot of home cooking. It’s not as bad as restaurant food health wise, but it’s definitely not recipes a personal trainer would approve of. I like hearty food. Lasagna, steak and potatoes, yummy stuff like that.”
Sounds like way more than I am used to, not bad, but a lot of food. “I'm not picky. Grilled cheese is fine.”
“I’ll remember that for days I have minimal energy because I was up all night writing.”
“Okay.”
She looks at me from the corner of her eye as if trying to gauge how serious I am. I’m not lying. I
don’t want big life disruptions. I just want the health officials off my back and someone I can get along with helping me out.
“How often do I clean?”
“How often do you need to? As long as there isn’t a layer of dust on anything and there aren’t dishes piled up I don’t care. I have a pet peeve about stepping on things though. I don’t like dirt sticking to my feet.”
“I actually just mean the week I have my periods…”
“Skip cleaning and make frozen dinners if you want. I don’t mind.”
She looks shocked, but I am serious. I remember my sister on her period, if it is anything as terrifying as that I won’t mind her skipping the cleaning and feeding me and staying in her room the whole time. I have been told not all women go entirely crazy, but most are at least a little bit.
“Thanks. That was a completely awkward thing to ask, but it’s nice of you to be so cool about it.”
“Hey are we near your house yet? It’d be good to see how big of a truck we need to rent. If you are okay with me following you home.”
She looks around, turns, and blushes as she points back down the street.
“The apartment is this way. We passed it already.”
“Hmm, distracted are you?”
“A bit I guess. Come on. Its cooler inside, I have AC at least. We should have taken your rental I'm melting.”
I can’t help but tease her after the hand shaking in the restaurant.
“Isn’t it wrong to get into a car with a stranger?”
She laughs and slips her arm through mine. It is unexpected, but I don’t let it bother me. I am getting used to having the unexpected shoved at me from her direction. When working she asked unexpected questions and made unexpected and unusual mistakes. She never did what I thought she would. It would take forever to try to figure her out and yet I wasn’t intimidated by the challenge.
We head in the direction of her building, or so I hope, and she looks on the verge of skipping. She likely would be if she weren’t holding onto me.
“We aren’t strangers anymore you know.”
I smile and nod.
“That’s good.”
The first week goes by smoothly. She brings me food and cleans, a lot. Everything looks shiny, new, and crazy clean. It is amazing. I have no complaints. I eat and work. It is peaceful in a way I hadn’t expected having a girl live with me, I can deal with this for a few years until my doctor says I am fine to live alone again, no problem. I was an idiot to think it would stay that way; the peace lasted only that first week.
Chapter Two
Instead of knocking, one day the door slams open. It scares me so bad I jump out of my chair.
“What’s going on?!”
“Get your ass into the kitchen now!”
I run out thinking something is on fire, or something equally terrifying. After seeing nothing amiss I try to head back into my office, completely annoyed she disturbed me.
“Are you crazy?”
She slams the tray into my chest and let's go. I have to grab it or it will fall and make a mess.
“You are sitting at the island and eating that or you aren’t going back into that room.”
“I have work…”
“So do I. I have dishes to do, a deadline to meet once those are done and my agent needs some tail feathers smoothed because I up and moved on her. I can’t do anything until you have eaten so I can put away leftovers and clean the dishes. Now sit your ass down and eat or I swear I will hit you with a skillet!”
I sit down and take a bite at a time, watching her the while I eat. She stands there glaring and I wonder if she really would hit me. She looks pissed and I’m not chancing it.
“I eat…”
“Less than my mother’s pet mouse and much less than my toothless great grandmother.”
Sadly the doctors would say something similar and it just makes me more cranky and defensive.
“You don’t have to wait for me to eat to do all that other stuff.”
“Of course I do! I'm not letting the dishes get crusty again! Its gross and I refuse to live like that! Maybe you don’t mind dying of food poisoning, but I do!”
She put her hands on her hips and taps her foot. I pick up the pace and finish the whole plate. She is being crazy. She must be on her period. My father has always told me to just do as they say and not argue until they are back to normal. I never understood what he meant, but I was starting to understand it now.
She smiles evilly and grabs the dish, putting it in the dishwasher. I rise slowly and quietly so as not to draw more attention to myself and walk back towards the office. She don’t turn, but she did give further instructions.
“Every morning at 8 am I want you out here, same with lunch and dinner time. You know what time every meal is done. You come out here or I swear I will come in and drag you out by your ears.”
I am so angry all I can do is glare. She finishes taking care of everything, takes a deep breath, and comes over and hugs me. Bipolar…all women are bipolar, that is the only explanation.
“I'm not letting you waste away because you’re an idiot and workaholic. If I have to ground you from sleepovers I will. So let’s do this the easy way and you just come eat with me.”
“Don’t you work for me?”
She pulls back long enough to smile.
“Yes, and as your nanny I'm gonna make sure you live a long and healthy life. Oh, and I want you to come on my evening walks with me.”
“I’m busy and…”
“It’s that or my morning run. Walk or run which do you prefer?”
She puts her hands on her hips again and stares at me. She is intimidating and I can tell she knows it. I sigh and look down. I know from working with her she is like a dog gnawing on a bone. I am not winning.
“Okay. Come let me know when the mealtimes are. I lose track of time a lot, but I promise to come out and eat as soon as you come in. Just give me time to save everything in case. Deal?”
“And the walk?”
“I’ll do that too. You shouldn’t be out alone in the evening anyway.”
She smiles. Of course she is happy, she is getting her way.
“Okay you can go back to work now.”
I go back into my office and take my frustration out on my work. Women complain about dealing with periods, but their terrifying insane personalities, which we have to deal with, make up for our not having them.
The next few meals were a bit tense. She talks incisively. About everything. Books, movies, music, anime, games. She is trying to get me interested enough to respond. But I don’t. I’m not one to give in to terror tactics and I hate being forced into things. She had forced my hand and I was still pissed about it.
Our walks are silent like our meals, at least on my part. I can tell she is prying, making sure I don’t hate her. I let her wonder a bit; maybe she won’t threaten me again. I just keep trying to not remember I am the idiot to suggest this, luckily she doesn’t remind me or I would have never been able to forgive her.
“You know the one time I am out here before you can come harass me about lunch and I see nothing made.”
I have decided not speaking to her is just annoying me. It is making me crankier than listening to her harp on me. I had gotten so used to her being here in so short a time it is weird not talking to her. Of course I talk to her almost daily even when we live across the country from each other.
“I’m sorry I lost track of time. Let me make you something quickly.”
She wipes her eyes and stands heading towards her bedroom door where I am standing to get to the kitchen. I step in front of her, filling the doorway entirely. She turns away, trying not to let me see. Likely embarrassed. I have never seen her cry, it makes me surprisingly want to kick the responsible person’s ass and I’m not violent by nature. Embarrassing.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
She bits her lip like she hadn’t meant to say no, but is com
mitted to it now.
“What happened? Is someone hurt?”
She shakes her head. That’s not entirely true though…maybe her family and friends are okay but she is hurt.
“What happened Trisha?”
“I called my family to let them know my new address. It…well it didn’t go well.”
I sigh and give her a one armed hug. She has been dreading it the entire first week here. She got her new cell phone and number a couple days ago, but she has been on the fence about calling. She didn’t think it would go well and obviously she was right.
“Come on. I’ll treat you to lunch.”
“You don’t cook.”
I shrug, put on my shoes, and motion for her to do the same.
“We will go out.”
She keeps looking around the house like it is wrong to eat a meal someone else cooks and can she convince me to stay. No way she needs to get out.
“What about your work?”
I open the door and walk out, giving her no time to argue. She follows locking the door behind her. Good thing she has her keys, I forgot mine.
We walk in silence until she huffs and looks at me in frustration.
“So are you still going to ignore me?”
“I haven’t been.”
“Yes you have. You don’t speak to me except to tell me if you like the food or not.”
“I’m sorry. I'm not used to people telling me what to do.”
She laughs like it isn’t news to her. She is one to talk, she is the same.
“Yeah, I kinda figured that out already. I wasn’t doing it to be mean.”
I sigh and blush a bit.
“I know. I'm embarrassed about it. I was after day one, but I wasn’t really sure how to apologize for being such an ass.”
“You could have just said something like, ‘sorry I overreacted, now about that book you mentioned.’ Didn’t have to be the book you referred to that’s just an example.”
I smile and hold in a chuckle. No, but she would love me referencing a book for conversation. I'd never hear the end of it after. She can go on about a single book for hours.
“I’ll remember that. But for all I knew you might hold a grudge and actually hit me with the skillet.”
His & Hers Page 12