“Here and there,” he replied.
“No specific locales?” she asked. “What? You part of some organized crime syndicate you can’t talk about?”
He made an amused snort.
“Is that how you financed this huge house?” she continued, taking in the bathroom counter space she only could conjure on Pinterest.
“It’s only 1300 square feet.”
“Ha! Only 1300,” she said. “Please, you should’ve seen my old apartment. I loved it, but I couldn’t turn in my kitchen without bumping an appliance. Like I’ve never seen a bathtub this big.”
She’d be enjoying the rare ability to fully stretch her legs in a tub if she weren’t soaking in swill.
“That’s a new addition. The reason I had to remove the door,” he said. “What do you think of the light fixtures?”
It sounded like he genuinely wanted to know. Not because her opinion specifically mattered but rather because he inquired about everyone’s opinion to gauge his taste.
“They’re artfully vintage, and I think it works well with the neutral wallpaper,” she said, surveying more of the bathroom before something truly bizarre caught her eye. “Why is there a framed picture of your head badly photoshopped onto a white man’s body?”
His sudden burst into boisterous laughter startled her, and as he continued to laugh, she couldn’t help but feel delighted in anticipation for the yet-revealed joke.
“Are you going to respond or leave me to draw my own conclusions?”
“It’s the main guy from that ’90s Robin Hood movie. It was a gag gift from my brother. I forget it’s even there.”
“Is that what got you interested in archery?”
“I don’t think I had seen it before I started taking lessons. I found the sport after attending a fair in town. There was a very basic archery range with shitty arrows and bows. Got hooked and started going to a range an hour out of town.”
His voice sounded brighter than she’d ever heard; it held a sense of wonderment no one could fake.
“You love it,” she said.
“I do,” he replied.
“I’m always fascinated by people who have one passion,” she told him.
“You don’t?” he asked.
“I like a lot of things. Too many things, some people say. But I guess I feel like I only have a short time on this earth. Why not try out everything?”
“You’ve had a lot of jobs, then.”
“Yeah, I’ve been a secretary at all sorts of businesses. Medical, tech, construction, you name it. I’ve done hand modeling —”
“Hand modeling?”
“Yeah, you know, if you’re selling jewelry or nail polish, you need hands and limbs to showcase the products. Also worked as a nail technician, a nanny, an acupuncturist, water safety instructor.”
“And you’ve loved and been fulfilled by all of them?” he asked skeptically.
“No, of course not. Some were just jobs, and I’ve had my fair share of bad ones, like this one personal assistant position for a lady with a bad reputation in media. She was very particular about everything, and she used to order this salad from an upscale bistro—cost like eighteen bucks for the smallest portion imaginable, but she didn’t like the feta cheese that came with it. And if the cook forgot to leave it out, I’d have to remove it by hand.”
“No way,” Silas said.
“Yup, I’d sit at my desk with a toothpick and a teaspoon, removing crumbly feta cheese from a salad.”
“Nah, that’s too much,” he said.
