Author's Commentary
Second part...
I grabbed the cell-phone from under my pillow, as my eyes adjusted to the light of morning. It was hardly past seven, and I heard the shower running. I pulled myself off the mattress, and pulled on some fresh clothes. The water stopped as I walked into the main other room, where the disheveled make-shift bed was empty. I sat down in a chair at what sufficed for my kitchen table, and waited for my grogginess to wash out. The bathroom door opened, and the girl’s head, curtained by long wet hair, peaked out.
“Oh” she said, noticing that I was in the room. The door opened further, and I saw the light blue towel wrapped around her. Her face reddened and she seemed flustered as she stood in the bathroom doorway. She hesitated to speak or move. “I was just about to go”
“I can wash your clothes for you, if you’d like” I said, trying to emphasize the extent of the hospitality I wanted to offer. “I have a load to take down, anyway,” I added, lying. “If you’re not in a hurry, or anything,” I pushed the point further.
Half-heartedly, she agreed, and brought me small pile of stained and wrinkled clothes. They smelled from several consecutive days of wearing, and reeked of tobacco. I dug out a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt for her to wear in the mean time. I walked downstairs with the small bundle that encompassed almost all her belongings, leaving her alone in my studio with the substitute clothes on the couch.
The laundry room was empty. Seven thirty in the morning wasn’t a time when many people decided to clean clothes. I threw her clothes in a washing machine, and dug a few quarters from my pocket. I walked back up the building’s steps, as the washer rinsed and tumbled the jeans, grey shirt, black jacket, socks and underwear.
I walked through the doorway to see her sitting at the table. She was leaning over a bowl of cereal, shoveling what was probably the first bit of real food she had in days into her mouth. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, wiping some milk from her lip. I smiled and told her it was fine. It made me feel more comfortable, for some reason, to see her eating my cereal from the last clean bowl.
My boxers reached halfway down her thigh, and her exposed legs were clenched together. My black shirt hung loosely over her, the sleeves drooping around her arms. When she sat up, her breasts were slightly noticeable, as the pushed out the loose material. I liked the way she looked in my clothing. I told her it would be an hour or so before hers would be clean.
I had work at eleven, and I hadn’t planned to wake up until ten. There were now over two hours with which I had nothing to do. Without purpose, I sat down in a chair to her right side of the table. I decided to figure out what I could about my guest.
“So, what’s your name?”
“Katelyn”
“How old are you?” I asked, trying not to sound sleazy. I knew she had to be young, but she was also rather attractive. I was only twenty-one, but I knew I could come off easily as a pervert.
“Sixteen” she responded, after swallowing the milk from the bowl.
“Why don’t you have a home?” I followed. She took a moment to consider something, looking into her empty bowl. She bit her lip, as she had the night before. Looking casually around the room as she talked, she started to unravel the situation of her home life. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, but she kept speaking to me. After half an hour, I paused her, and I ran down to the basement to put her clothes in the dryer. Fifty cents and a few minutes later, I returned.
When I got back, Katelyn was sitting on the couch, her legs covered by the blanket. I sat down on the opposite side of the sofa, and she resumed, with more detail. As she told me about her drunken mother, futureless brother and overworked sister, she would, from time to time, look me in the eye as she spoke. When she finished, she brushed lock of hair from her face, and had the blanket wrapped around her body.
I left Katelyn again, to get the dry clothes. I did a sub-mediocre job of folding them, but I knew it didn’t matter. I walked with the clothes, still warm from the machine, back up the stairs for the third time that morning. She was still on the couch when I got into the room, and I put the clothes on the table. I decided to get ready for work, and then realized I already was.
Though it was earlier than I usually left the house, maybe only nine-thirty, I wasn’t sure what else I could do. I grabbed my bus pass from the previous day’s pants, and decided to buy some breakfast before my shift. With some of the idle time I had, I stood near Katelyn, who was still on the couch.
“I have to go to work now, but you can stay as long as you want.”
“Oh. Thank you,” she said, looking up at me.
“I mean, you can crash here as long as you need. You know, make yourself at home.” She didn’t respond.
“Well, help yourself to the kitchen, the TV, whatever you want.” I said, as I backed towards the door. She responded in a small voice, “bye.”
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