Page 13 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
So round. That man did squats.
I needed to stop thinking about his butt. I needed to stop thinking about the way he sawmybutt, dimpled and misshapen.
And the way I immediately felt in his presence? I’d never be able to relax around him. I’d never be able to do anything but worry about what he thought about me. I’d drive myself crazy.
This wasn’t a home.
I walked in on him having sex.
I’d better just go.
I heard a meow at the door, so I went over and opened it, finding a one-eyed ginger cat. I reached down to pet him, but he darted just out of reach.
Why do cats do that? They want to be touched, but when you try, they back off.
Just like me. I wanted to be touched, but not with this body.
As I paced, avoiding my bags and looking out to the sycamores and eucalyptus outside, I thought of more reasons to leave. He had too many animals. He was unorganized. A disaster area looked better than his house. He didn’t do his dishes or the laundry.
Would he expect me to do it? No way! That wasn’t okay. He needed a maid, not a roommate.
This wasn’t working out. I needed to find a new place.
Already.
I stopped pacing and pulled my laptop out of the carrying case, setting it up on the bedside table. I flipped open my laptop and logged onto the Wi-Fi password that Mikey had given me. Then I scrolled through Craigslist.
Studio for rent, $5,000 a month.
Jesus.
God was forsaking me again. Was this a sign that I was supposed to stay here with Mikey?
Wasn’t there anything affordable in Santa Barbara?
No. I answered my own question. There was a reason why celebrities lived here.
I scrolled and scrolled.
Then I called Monica. She assured me that my first day of work would be fine, that my roommate would be fine, that my life would be fine.
I hoped she was right.
The scrappy sound of skateboarders outside came in the room. Stepping over to the window, I glanced at the house across the street, then looked up and down the street. None of the houses in this neighborhood had bars on the windows. I turned back into my new room and looked around.
A ray of light caught the hardwood floor and made a pretty, leafy pattern.
What if I stayed?
The house was close to work and stately, even though Mary Poppins needed to come and tidy.
Mikey wasn’t going to hurt me. He’d been gentle.
This would be okay for now.
Left alone for a few hours, my inner perfectionist came out. I put my clothes away, alphabetized my books, and made my bed.
I didn’t bother to unpack any of those files in my mind, though. And I wondered what Mikey was doing while I worked.
