Page 267 of Love in Riverbend
At 5:25 a.m., just before my alarm, I receive the third message.
* * *
He’s awake.
* * *
There are tears in my eyes as I send her a response.
* * *
Give him a hug for me. I love you both. Get some sleep.
* * *
On my way to work, I swing by Ricky’s apartment. From all his stories about his roommate, I’m not exactly sure who will answer the door, if anyone. It’s nearly seven thirty when I knock on the door. I wait. I knock again. I wait.
I’m about to walk away when the door opens.
Max’s blond hair is in disarray, and he’s wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, not briefs. I try to keep my line of sight to his eyes. The fly on the boxers doesn’t seem to fasten.
“Um,” I say, “Ricky lost his phone, and I wanted to come by and see if it’s here.”
Max rubs his eyes. “Yeah, you can come in.” He opens the door wider.
I step inside. The living room has two open pizza boxes with nothing but crumbs. And a video game is on the TV screen. I can’t see into Max’s room, but it doesn’t appear as if he has company.
“Have you seen his phone?”
Max yawns and points to the kitchen. “I think that’s his in there.”
The kitchen is as clean as the living room, which isn’t a compliment. On the table by a box of cereal is a black iPhone. I pick it up. “I think it’s his.” I swipe the screen, and nothing happens. The phone is dead.
“I don’t know,” Max says with a shrug. “Where is Rich?”
“He’s down in Riverbend. A friend was injured yesterday.”
“Oh man.” He walks to the coffeepot and lifts the carafe. “Want some coffee? I’m not sure when this was made.” He looks at me with wide eyes. “Coffee doesn’t go bad, does it?”
“Could the phone belong to anyone else?” I ask.
Max contemplates the question for what seems longer than necessary. “I don’t think so.” He wrinkles his forehead. “I don’t remember anyone being here last night.” He pours the coffee into a mug from the sink. “I haven’t gotten any messages. I didn’t know.”
“Well—” I lift the phone. “—he doesn’t have this, so it’s hard for him to message.”
Max laughs. “Yeah. I like you. You’re the best girlfriend he’s brought around.”
“The best?”
“The only,” Max says, lowering his voice as if he’s telling me a secret.
“Do you know where his charger is?”
“Probably his bedroom.”
Carrying the phone, I make my way down the hall to where I know Ricky’s bedroom is. It feels a little like snooping, and I don’t want to be that kind of girlfriend. Turning the knob, I push the door open.
The last time I was at his apartment, Ricky’s bedroom was neat. Today, his new suit is lying on the floor, along with the dress shirt and tie. Drawers are open and items are hanging out.
