He still appears hesitant, but when I hand him the glove I found in the basement—yes, I may have spent a lot of time looking for it while Zoe was napping yesterday—he finally cracks a grin.
“Thank you.”
I feel like I’ve just won an Olympic medal.
He goes to give Zoe a kiss, grabs his stuff, and only gives me one last look before he’s gone.
“So.” I turn to Zoe. “What else do we need to pack?”
I get to explore the entire house to finish packing those bags.
During my time babysitting, Zoe and I have kept to the main living areas, the backyard, and her bedroom, so I haven’t seen much of the rest of the house. Now, given the excuse to do so, I was happy to rediscover the rooms Eli and I made good memories in over the years. What I love most, though, is all the glimpses I get of Eli in unexpected places. The guest bedroom upstairs I stayed in once when Ruth was gone to Malaga with her girlfriends now houses Eli’s work desk, complete with handwritten recipes and Post-its with random ideas likeportable fire pit for s’mores?I wrote a yes on that one.
What gave the best insight, though, was obviously Mr. and Mrs. Grant’s old bedroom, which has now become Eli’s. I never would’ve walked in there voluntarily, only following Zoe in when she said it was where her dad stored the beach towels—it wasn’t—but since I got a glimpse, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. What else could I learn from Eli in there? The room was mostly neat compared to the rest of the house, with his khaki comforter pulled tight across the bed and pillows arranged neatly. Pajama pants were strung over the rocking chair while a pair of boxers sat on the floor. Images of what Eli might look like wearing only those may or may not have floated through my mind. A few picture frames sat on his nightstands, but I didn’t have enough time to examine them, and I’ve spent the night obsessing over what else I missed in there.
After we were done packing way too many bags for a two-person, week-long trip, it was past Zoe’s bedtime, but she was too excited to show any signs of fatigue. It took four stories, including an incredibly tedious one about a gnome who travels the world, before she finally fell asleep. Then, I came downstairs and watched TV for a bit, but my mind wasn’t in it. It was stuck in that damn bedroom.
Finally, at midnight, I gave in and walked back in. Just for a little tease. I wouldn’t sneak too much.
But here I am, thirty minutes later, full-on snooping. I wish I felt remorse, but I can’t muster the feeling. I’m enjoying it too much. If I liked seeing Eli’s calendar on the fridge or his packed lunches inside it for glimpses into his daily life, this is like winning the lottery. For example, on the shelves in his closet, he still has the baseball trophies he won in college. I didn’t even know he’d played in college. I knew he was good, but I didn’t think he wasthatgood. Our time together was never about our separate lives. He did know most of what happened at home, and I knew he was going to graduate with honors, but we barely spoke about the time we spent in our respective schools. He knew I hated that part of my life and didn’t want to relive it, and I guess he didn’t want to sound braggy about the easy time he was having.
The picture frames on his nightstands end up featuring Zoe, his siblings, and Mr. Grant in what must be his forties. His head is out of his truck, and he’s giving us what Eli and I used to call his president smile—all teeth, wide and bright.
Up to this point, I’ve kept myself away from the drawers, but God, they’re appealing. The top one on the nightstand is open an inch, which is the most teasing image I’ve ever seen. The fact that I’m leaving tomorrow is probably making it worse. I want to absorb as much information as I can before I don’t see him for who knows how long.
I glance at that drawer again. Cracked open is basically open, which makes it fair play.
Fuck it.
I tiptoe to it even though I’m alone with a sleeping Zoe in this house, then peek inside.
It’s a typical bedside drawer; an amalgam of things someone would find in their pockets at the end of the day. Fluffy hair elastics, change, pens, receipts, random charging cables. I don’t find any condoms, and a part of me is relieved, even though he could be keeping them somewhere else. I go to close the drawer when something catches my eye under the layer of items. I know I shouldn’t touch anything, but I’ve seen something like this before. In Ruth’s things.
I’m careful as I pull a piece of scrapbook paper out of the drawer. It’s got Ruth written all over it, with feathers and fabric I’ve seen in her things, but also with collages I’ve seen her do before. And in the middle of the page, the main piece: a picture of two kids I recognize immediately.
It’s him and me.
I’m fifteen, I think, making him sixteen. We’re facing away from the camera, which explains why I never knew this photo existed.Two years before he saw me as more than a friend. We’re sitting cross-legged on the picnic table in Ruth’s yard, looking at the water. Eli’s head is thrown back, dark strands slipping back as he’s laughing. I can hear it through the picture; this loud noise that could be considered boisterous, but that to me only ever represented happiness. I’m turned toward him, and while I’m not cackling like he is, the smile I’m wearing shows I’m simply glad to see him so happy. I know it, because watching him laugh was the best way to make me smile. I can’t see my eyes clearly, but if I could zoom, I know they would havelovesickwritten all over them.
“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised to find you here.”
I jump back, so shocked I drop the scrapbook which falls in slow-motion over the bed.
Eli is leaning against the doorframe, his face unreadable. His eyes are glassy, which confirms he listened to me and had a couple drinks. His hair is wind-swept, a strand falling over his dark eyes. He looks delicious.
“You’ve always been nosy.”
I can’t say much to that. Iamrifling through his things.
I can’t find it in me to be quippy, either. Not after how rattled this picture has made me. Why would he keep it in his bedside drawer?
“When did she give this to you?” I ask, not bothering with apologies.
“The day you left.”
It’s difficult to swallow. That means after Ruth gave me money and a packed bag of stuff I might need, she went to see Eli inthe morning to tell him I was gone. She gave him something to remember me by. She knew I wouldn’t be back. Knew we’d never see each other again.
My eyes burn. I breathe through it.
