Page 19 of Freeing Ruby

The movie’s intense at times, keeping me on my toes. But I jump for real every time I hear a noise coming from outside my apartment. I hear people walking down the hall, voices, a dog barking in another apartment. These noises are typical, but for some reason, having Miguel here makes them seem a bit less threatening.

When the movie ends and the credits roll, Miguel says, “That was good.”

I cover my mouth when I yawn. “I’m glad you liked it.” I stand and collect our empty bottles. “It’s getting late. I guess I’ll head to bed.”

He stands and stretches, arching his back and extending his muscular arms with a deep groan. “Is there anything I can help with?”

I gesture toward the kitchen. “You could put these in the recycling bin, while I grab some bedding for the sofa.”

Miguel disposes of the empty bottles, then joins me at the linen closet, where I grab a pillow, sheets, and a blanket.

He takes them from me. “I’ll make up the bed.”

As I stand this close to him, he seems even taller than I remember. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, giving me a gentle smile. “If you hear anything in the night, come get me, okay? That’s why I’m here.”

“Okay.” If something does happen, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with it alone. “If you get hungry—” I point toward the kitchen “—help yourself.”

He nods patiently. “Don’t worry, I will. Sleep well.”

“All right, then. Good night.” I nod toward my bedroom. “I guess I’ll hit the hay.”

To my surprise, I’m finding it hard to tear myself away from him. I’m not used to having company. Or companionship. Or even a friend. It feels… good.

As I walk away, he remains standing in the same spot, watching me go, as if it’s his job to be sure I make it to my bedroom okay.

After I make a pit stop in the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth, I head to my bedroom and change into my nightgown. Pumpkin’s already curled up at the foot of my bed. He lifts his head, one eye opening partway, then lies back down. As soon as I slide between the cool sheets, he gets up and resettles next to me, pressing against my side.

“G’night, Punkie.” When I scratch the back of his neck, he starts purring.

My bedroom is nearly pitch black at night thanks to the light-blocking drapes hanging in the window. They’re thick, heavy drapes designed to block out not just light but also sound. Sometimes the parking lot behind the building can get a bit noisy late at night, even into the wee hours, especially on weekends.

I reach over to open the top drawer of my nightstand and open my bottle of melatonin. I pop a cherry-flavored tablet into my mouth and let it dissolve under my tongue.

The apartment is quiet, and I wonder if Miguel is in bed yet. Is he one of those people who goes to bed early and gets up early, or is he a night owl?

The apartment is so quiet.

Is he reading?

On his phone?

Texting his friends about this weird new assignment of his?

Is he bored?

Does he regret agreeing to this job?

My mind races with lots of questions and concerns and zero answers.

I hope he can get comfortable on the sofa. I know it’s fine to sleep on because I’ve slept on it many times. I’m just worried because there’s no way he can stretch out fully—it’s not long enough for him.

I should have offered to let him use my bed, because I fit just fine on the sofa. I’ve slept on it on those nights when he keeps throwing pebbles at my window, and I can’t sleep.

I stroke Pumpkin’s back. “There’s a stranger sleeping on our sofa.”

Pumpkin stretches and lets out a chirping sound. I think he approves of our house guest.

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