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“By candid, do you mean…”
“That perhaps the girls don't know. Or perhaps they do; perhaps it's all staged and made to look like the girls don’t know. I hear it’s very convincing. As I said, I haven’t actually seen the photographs. It's a private exchange.”
She waves her hand in the air vaguely, as though brushing away an unpleasant odor.
I stand suddenly. The room seems to have gotten quite close, too close. I need some air. I need to be going.
“Candace, thank you so much for your time,” I mutter, already turning toward the door.
She sighs, and I can hear several things in that small sound. Sadness, frustration, anger. How much of that is directed at me, I don't know. I can't even care anymore. I need to get out of this room.
But before I leave, I turn around, gruffly thanking her and making eye contact one last time. She's done me a favor, and am thankful, but I doubt I'll ever see her again. She seems to know it too, and waves at me from behind her desk, goodbye.
Chapter 12
Kita
I don't have to be quiet, but now it's such a habit that I can hardly stop myself.
Yesterday, it still kind of felt like he was here. Like his vibrations were still in the house. But today, everything seems strangely empty. All I can hear is my phone going off from time to time, the almost silent motor in the refrigerator in the kitchen, and any noise that I'm making. I seem quite loud. I wonder if I disturb him more than I thought on a day-to-day basis.
With finals coming, we have a few days of no classes and I get to sleep in late. Finally I get up around 9 o'clock and stretch for a long time, finally rolling out of bed and spending fifteen minutes or so luxuriating in long yoga poses. By the end of it, I'm a little overheated and sweaty, feeling invigorated.
I just walk right out into the hall in my panties. Just why not? There's nobody here to see me, so I can kind of pretend I own the place.
I think again, this is sort of place I would own, if I got to pick. It used to be a warehouse or something, but Daniel made it nice. There's exposed brick everywhere, rafters and painted ductwork. Lots of open spaces, but the upstairs is quiet and secluded.
I keep looking at those rafters hungrily. I could try a balance beam routine on them but I'm so out of practice. It would probably be highly embarrassing for Daniel to come back from his trip and find me unconscious on the floor below, injured after a messy dismount.
Not that that would happen. Of course. I'm sure I could remember a few things.
But I'm not going to try it. Definitely not.
I head out to take a shower and kind of pause in the hallway, looking at Daniel’s closed door.
Would he mind?
Of course he would mind. He's an extremely private person.
So I have to be extra careful.
I sneak to the end of the hallway, tiptoeing for no particular reason. The doorknob is almost warm against my palm as I open the door, letting myself into his secret chamber.
His scent is what I notice first. It almost knocks me over. This room, though it seems so tidy, smells like he was just here. Such a manly, thick scent, a combination of soap and maybe a little sweat.
I walk over to his bed, stroking his pillow with my fingertips. Before I even know I'm going to do it, I bend over and bury my face in the pillow, inhaling deeply. It does smell like him. Actually, it smells so much like him that I'm filled with longing. I sort of want to roll around on his bed, touch myself, imagine what it would be like to…
Okay, that's bananas. Just stop.
But I could maybe borrow one of his shirts again? Something like that? He didn’t seem to mind last time. I could replace it before he even got home and he would never know.
No, really, I have to stop. I don't even know what's come over me.
His dresser is simple, spotlessly clean and dust free. I open the top drawer carefully, half expecting some kind of alarm to go off. He's got a dozen socks on the left side, nested together and rolled neatly as I might expect. On the right side is a tray with cufflinks and tie bars. A small box.
I open the box. The smell of cedar wafts out at me. In the top of the box is a picture, laminated and glued. Looks to be maybe thirty years old or something like that. A small boy wearing a hat with ear flaps, standing on top of a chair next to a taller boy. They stare seriously into the camera, not smiling at all. Is one of those boys Daniel? I can't help but wonder. They look a lot alike, maybe brothers? Does he have a brother? I don't even know.
I should ask him.
