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I squeezed my eyes shut. This was not happening. I was not in a house that had no Internet and no air conditioning. If I could not see him, then this would not be real.
"Okay, I'll come down in an hour."
Instead of unpacking, I sat on my new bed. It squeaked. God only knew what dinner would be. Fish fry, if I was lucky. That was the best case scenario.
I shook myself out of my haze of self pity, and I opened up my suitcases. There were 5 hangers in the closet. I doubled up a handful of my shirts and dresses. That would be enough for a week. And honestly, who was going to see me in the back end of nowhere? I could be naked, and the only person who would care would be Jimmy Fox. He'd probably be unperturbed and uncaring, even if we were supposed to be married. He didn’t show too many emotions on his face or in his voice.
He wasn't hideous. I might even say that he was hot. But he was someone who I'd never marry. I needed concrete and skyscrapers and a million people pushing past me on the metro. I couldn't live in the dead silence out here. Instead of people, there were a million trees. It was unnatural to see this much nature.
I shivered. Only a week, I reminded myself. You can do this. You can tell your dad that it didn't work out. Your trust fund will be safe.
As the day went on, the house felt warmer. The smell of something cooking filled the house. It reminded me of pizza.
After an hour passed, I went downstairs. I was salivating over the smell of the meat, and my stomach told me that breakfast was a very long time ago. I had only had a banana.
Jimmy was standing with his back to me. He was stirring things around in a frying pan.
"I hope you like stir-fry."
"I love stir-fry." That was probably the closest that I was going to get to Asian food out in Wisconsin. "Can I help set the table?"
"Sure. The dishes are in there. The forks and knives are in there." He pointed to some see-through, glass-front cabinets in his kitchen. "Just another minute, then I'll take this off the stove."
I got dishes and utensils out, and I put them on the dinner table. It was covered in a bright, cheerful sunshine pattern.
"This tablecloth is beautiful. Where did you get it? I'd like to buy something like this for my home."
"My mom made it. You'll have to ask her."
"Oh!" I blinked. "Okay." Even when my mom was alive, she was not very good at crafting.
He put stir-fry on a platter, then he carried it to the table. He opened up a rice cooker that I had not seen before, and he pulled out fluffy white rice into two small rice bowls. I didn't expect this in Wisconsin at all.
We sat down and ate. He had very good table manners for a yokel. We were quiet, and the food was really good. I could taste garlic, soy sauce, and a little bit of something tangy.
When I was done, I sat back. "That was so good. What did you put in the seasoning?"
"Lemongrass."
"What's that?"
"What it sounds like."
"Okay." I blinked. He wasn't that nice, but the food definitely tasted good. If it was like this for the rest of my stay, I would be able to stay here comfortably.
When he sat back, I gathered up the food. The platter was empty. We had eaten everything.
I scraped the plates into the garbage, then I quickly washed everything. I put them in the drying rack, then I washed off my hands.
"What do you do for fun around here, if you don't have the Internet or functioning phones?"
"Read books, I guess. I'll show you."
Library
Amelia
I followed him into a room that was filled with old, wooden bookshelves. It smelled like old books. It smelled fantastic.
