Page 41 of More Than a Good Friend

“Hey.” Her voice is strained, tired.

“Where are you?”

“Don’t drive while you’re on the phone.”

She notices every little thing. How can she tell I’m driving?

“Then tell me where you are so I can hang up.” I need information, not a scolding.

A small laugh comes from her end of the call. “I’m about to clean the game room bathroom. Then I’m done.”

“Don’t start. I’m on my way.” I toss the phone on the seat and head over. “I can handle one bathroom. How hard can it be? You can do this, Dag.”

Laughter interrupts my pep talk. “You didn’t hang up.”

“Maybe I just wanted to hear you breathing.” That might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever said.

“Right. See you in a second.” She ends the call.

I’m driving her home so that she has time to relax before tonight. Since there will be food at the shindig, she doesn’t have to worry about dinner. And she never takes long to get ready.

When I meet her in the game room, she holds out a bucket filled with cleaning supplies. “You’re really going to clean the bathroom?”

“Yep. Right after I drive you home.”

Her eyes are all misty, and when she blinks, a tear spills down her cheek.

I’m trying to do everything right and be a good friend, but I must be getting it wrong. “Why are you crying?”

“Thank you.” She sets the bucket aside. “And I’m not crying. I’m just tired.”

I brush the tear off her face. “Looks like crying to me. Need me to carry you?”

“No!” She rolls her eyes and marches toward the door.

One thing I’m good at is shifting her mood. All it took was one little question and she forgot all about the weepies.

* * *

The game roomis just off the mess hall, and all the guys use this bathroom often. And it is ick.

I dig through the bucket Goldie gave me as I watch a video on how to clean a bathroom. There is zero chance that the gloves that fit Goldie’s tiny hands will also fit mine. Guess I’ll be doing this with my bare hands.

These guys are going to get a lecture on aiming for the giant hole in the toilet. How does so much yellow—I’d rather just refer to it as that—get all over the floor? The splash zone here is worse than the one at the killer whale show at Sea World.

One bright side is that I don’t have to scrub a tub. There’s only a sink and a toilet in here. I set my phone on the counter and lean it against the wall, letting the video play.

As the helpful cleaning lady goes through her tutorial, I follow along each step of the way. I have to pause a couple of times at the beginning—before touching the toilet—so that I can pull out the right cleaning supplies, but then I start the actual work.

While the cleaner stuff works its magic in the toilet, I wipe down the walls, clean the mirror, and scrub the small counter. I want Goldie to be impressed with my work, and I definitely don’t want her to come in here on Saturday and clean it all over again.

Maybe I should ask her for some red nail polish. I could paint a target on the inside of the toilet bowl and give these guys somewhere to aim. That might help.

When I finish, I snap a couple of pictures and send them to Goldie. Then I rush home to shower. I for sure can’t show up to the dance like this.

CHAPTER15

GOLDIE

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