Page 61 of The Vacancy In Room 10

“What?” Frank asks.

“Nothing. King me,” I say, and he does, but then points past me toward the brick office wall.

“What are those?” Frank asks, having slayed me in checkers twice already and probably bored with the poor competition.

I look to where he’s pointing and see the beautiful herbs I replanted against the side of the office, green and thriving. “They’re herbs. You can eat them.”

“Oh, we used to have herbs, but my mom said you’re supposed to smoke them. But she did make brownies once, and they were good even though I felt weird after.”

I stare at him, not really knowing what to say and marveling at what he’s been through in his young life. “Well, these are different. Smell them,” I say, and he squats down in front of the little pots and gently handles each one as if they are precious objects.

He smells them, contemplates, and then smells another. “I can tell this is mint, but I don’t know the others,” he says.

“This one is my favorite. It’s basil. Smell,” I say, and he does. He smiles. “Right? Have you ever had pesto?”

“No.” He laughs. “What’s that?”

“Just the best thing ever, and you eat it with a ton of garlic bread and pasta. I can show you how to make it if you want.”

“Like with ingredients like they do on the Food Network? Not frozen?”

“From scratch,” I say, and my heart swells when I remember that we grew these for just this reason—so I could teach my kid how to fall in love with cooking and plants and the earth, and now here is this great kid, and he needs me. It’s not what I expected, but I can’t wait to show him, especially when I see the look on his face and how excited he is. And I can see that it’s mixed with a skepticism, or maybe it’s fear that I’ll forget about it; about him. But I won’t.

“Whaddya say? Maybe this weekend?” I say, and he nods.

And just then, I feel a shadow fall over us, and we both look up to see the figure of a man—a shadow, backlit by the sun. I cover my eyes with my hand and squint up at him from the ground. He steps into the shade, and I can see that it’s Reid. I scramble to my feet in surprise, and maybe to prepare for war, if he thinks he’s gonna tear my herbs out of the ground or sue me or whatever the hell he’s here for.

“You scared the shit out of me,” I say, because there was a brief second I thought he was a cop coming to take me away forever, the way I fear most moments of every day, but I’m still afraid when I think about him saying anything in front of Frank that might make him feel like his very special gift I gave him could be taken away.

“Who are you?” Frank asks.

“He’s nobody, and he’s leaving.”

“Is this your boyfriend?” he asks, amused.

“Isn’t Mary expecting you for dinner?” I ask with a hand on one hip.

“I can take a hint,” Frank says, smirking. He picks up his checkers and skips off across the pool deck.

“What are you doing here?” I ask curtly.

“Well, if you’d ever answer your phone...”

“Look. Forget the goddamn tools. I mean, isn’t this a little much even for you?” I say, and he looks confused.

“What?”

“You got everything you want. Everything. Is this who you’ve turned into? You’re seriously stalking me for some tools you can’t even use? I have nothing to give you, Reid. Just leave me alone,” I say, feeling a bit of a rush because, for the first time ever, I mean it. I can’t believe I told him to leave me alone and meant it. I almost laugh for just a moment—the feeling of elation is brief but there. I turn, feeling momentarily light as air, to go inside the office door.

“Wait. Wha...? I don’t care about tools. That’s not why I’m here. I tried calling you. I just need to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s important, okay?” He looks around subtly and tries to hide a disgusted expression the way most people do when they first experience the place in daylight. “Can we just...grab a bite to eat and talk? Please. My treat.”

“Of course it’s your treat. You think I got money?” I say, hard as stone, but on the inside, I’m going through all of the reasons he would need to talk to me. Has someone contacted him, thinking I still live at that address? I mean, some of my mail still goes there by mistake. Has someone threatened him to get to me?

I must not successfully mask my sheer terror at the thought of what he might tell me because he snaps his finger in front of my eyes to bring me back. “Uh...hello? You okay?”

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