Now isn’t the ideal time to discuss footwear, but my mom taught me to be polite when receiving compliments. “Thanks.” They’re not the cutest pair I own, but they are the most comfortable.
“My grandma has the same ones.”
Very funny. Lucky for him, I have a fantastic sense of humor. “Sounds like your grandmother has great taste.”
The lollipop clicks against his teeth when he chuckles, which of course prompts me to say, “Nice lollipop.”
“Thanks, I got it at the bank.”
Yeah. Okay.
“What’s that snort about?” he asks, tilting his head and making his hair fall across his forehead.
Is he saying they mistook him for a child? I’m not buying it. “And you got one how? Based on maturity?”
“Wow. You talk a lot of shit for a woman who looks like she needs help.”
“You’re the one who came out swinging and dissing my shoes.”
Mr. Lollipop rests his shoulder against his door. “I’d hardly call ‘nice shoes’ a diss.”
“And the grandma part?”
“The truth. Now, do you want help or not?”
I’d love to say no but we both know I’m not getting this mattress down these stairs on my own. Maybe I could launch it over the railing and let it fall. Except then it might bounce and hit one of those cars parked in front of the building. I don’t have the spare money to handle being sued right now.
“That would be great. Thanks.” Beats listening to him tell me his great aunt owns the same jean shorts or that his mother has the same ratty Southern High School T-shirt.
He closes his door and comes over to where I’m wrestling to free the far end of the mattress from where it’s stuck to the corner of the railing. “I’ve heard a mix of hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dish soap is great at getting out piss stains.”
Not sure why he felt the need to spout that random fact at me. Wait! “Is that something you suffer from? That’s why they gave you a child’s lollipop, isn’t it?”
He gestures toward the brownish-yellow splotches coating the entire back side of the mattress. “This is your bed, sweetheart. Not mine.”
Okay, I’m an idiot. “I’ll keep that in mind. Unfortunately, I’ve a policy against sleeping in someone else’s urine.” Not sure why I said “unfortunately” but there’s no taking it back now.
He lifts the back side of the mattress, forcing me to catch the front or be shoved down the stairs. “But sleeping in your own is fair game?”
Walked straight into that one, didn’t I? “Obviously.”
Carefully, I descend the stairs. Walking backwards carrying a heavy mattress wouldn’t be so bad if my fingers weren’t starting to cramp. Why don’t they put handles on the ends of mattresses?
My new neighbor doesn’t seem to be the least bit winded by the time we reach the second floor. I, on the other hand, sound like I ran a marathon and look like I bathed in a puddle. “Can we stop for a minute?” Otherwise, I may end up passing out.
He eases the mattress against the railing once more while I stretch my back and try to quietly catch my breath.
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what do you plan on doing with this thing when we get to the bottom?”
Sweat burns my eyes, forcing me to use the hem of my shirt as a towel. “Why? Do you want to keep it? You’re more than welcome. No judgement here.”
“Funny.”
I thought so.
“You know you’re not allowed to put it in the dumpster, right?”
Crap. I didn’t know that. “Yeah, I know.” I lift the mattress and wait for him to do the same with his end.
