So,I wiped my face with my palm and put on a smile he couldn't see as I told him,“But I’m okay, now. It’s just the hormones and … you know, everything. But I’mfine.”
“Kenny...” I hated the hesitation in his tone and that I had put it there.
Ishook my head, wishing I hadn’t said anything at all. “Stop. You should getback to your family. I'm sorry.”
“Don'tbe sorry. What's your address?”
“What?”
“Youknow. Your address. Where you live.”
“No,”I laughed. “Why do you want to know?”
“Iwannasend you something.”
Itried to argue, but my attempts were all thwarted by his insistence to havesomething delivered to the apartment. So, reluctantly, I gave him the addressbefore hanging up the phone and going back to bed with my water and crackers.
***
I wasawoken a couple hours later by a knock on my door. Begrudgingly, I pulledmyself out of bed, not wanting to deal with strenuous activities like openingthe door or talking to people face to face. My robe was never a suitablereplacement for my blanket, but as the knocking persisted, I had to throw it onand headed for the door, scowling all the way.
Ipeered through the peephole and froze, clasping at the worn lapels of my robewith both hands.
Goosewas on the other side. Carrying two foil-covered dishes and a pitcher.
Ittook a moment to talk myself into opening the door. I really didn't want to.Not in an old, dirty, leopard print robe and pajamas with cats wearing Santahats all over them. And not when my hair or teeth hadn't seen a brush in overtwenty-four hours. But what else was I going to do? I couldn't just turn himaway or pretend that I hadn’t heard the door. He'd come all this way fromwherever he came from, and on Christmas, of all days.
So,I unlocked the deadbolt and slowly opened the door a crack.
“Hey,”I said quietly, peering through the sliver of space between door and jamb.
“Hey.”Goose smiled and lifted both hands bearing gifts. “I brought dinner.”
“Youdidn't have to do that.”
“Friendshipisn't about doing the things you have to do. Plus, yougottabe starving.”
Itwas true; I was. But I still hadn't showered or acquainted myself with my deodorantin some time. And really, when was the last time my floor had seen a vacuum?
“No,no, I’m good,” I insisted, putting on a close-lipped smile. “I had crackers, soI'm okay.”
Gooselaughed, filling the hallway with warmth. “Kenny. I don't care what yourapartment looks like, or the fact that you're dressed like you probably ownsixty cats. I just walked over here in the snow to bring you dinner, and Ireallyhave topiss. I promise I won't say anything or staylong. I justwannause the bathroom and make sure youeat something.”
Therewas no way I could turn him away after that. So, after only another moment ofhesitation, I nodded and opened the door to invite him in. He stepped insideand seemed to make himself at home right away, walking past me and into thekitchen. I followed and watched as he placed the dishes and pitcher on thecounter.
Heturned to face me and asked, “Where's your bathroom?”
Ipointed to the closed door adjacent to the living room and said, “Close thedoor when you're done. My cat likes to drink out of the toilet.”
Hislips spread in an amused grin. “How the hell did I know you have a cat?”
Rollingmy eyes, I muttered, “You said sixty.”
“One,sixty,” he shrugged, still wearing a grin, “still a cat lady.”
Watchinghim walk through the living room to the bathroom door, I silently marveled atthe size of him. My shoebox apartment was dwarfed to the size of a matchbox ina nearly comical way and it hit harder than ever before how badly I needed abigger space. Babies might not take up a lot of room themselves, but theirthings certainly do.
Hereturned to the kitchen moments later, sighing with relief. “You have no ideahow badly I needed to pee,” he groused, shaking his head as he peeled the foiloff the plates and revealed two identical dishes of food.
