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Opening his beer, he led me down a short hallway. He pointed to the bathroom. “I only have one bathroom.” He pointed again. “My room.” His finger shifted toward another door. My office.” He then gestured to closet doors that lined the hallway. “I have a washer and dryer behind there.” He turned and glanced at what I was wearing. “We didn’t think of packing a bag of clothes for you.”
I looked down at my school uniform. “At least I have on what I need for tomorrow.”
“I can give you a shirt of mine to sleep in, and if you want to wash your clothes so they’ll be clean for tomorrow, you’ll find everything you need above the washer.”
Once again feeling like a burden, I didn’t have much of a choice but to nod in agreement. “If you don’t mind…”
He walked into his room, and I remained where I stood. It didn’t seem appropriate following him into his private space. When he walked out, he handed me a gray Oakland Raiders t-shirt. I took it, feeling my face heat, and walked to the bathroom, silently laughing at the absurdity of the situation I was in.
Here I was, with Mr. D, my principal, on a school night, having a slumber party, wearing his shirt.
6
Corrine
I wanted to take him up on that beer but wasn’t sure how to ask now that the moment had passed. I sat on the couch, in his shirt and nothing else. I didn’t have clean panties, so I had no choice but to wash those along with my school uniform. He wouldn’t know that I was full commando, of course, but I did. And after the day I had, the evening I had, and now facing the night I had a fear I would have… I didn’t think an entire six pack of beer could settle me down.
“I’m going into my office for a bit. I need to get a couple of things ready for a big meeting I have tomorrow,” he said as he stood near the hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom.
I looked over my shoulder at him and nodded.
“Don’t you have any homework to do?” he asked.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Really?
“Yes, Mr. D,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “Whatever you say, sir.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I teased. I was sitting in the man’s living room, wearing his clothes, and he was going to now act like a father figure.
He gave a small smile back. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I mean…” He pointed to the backpack with the tip of his beer bottle, and in a very authoritative voice I had yet to hear from the man, he ordered, “Do your homework, Miss Parker, or else.”
I laughed as he turned to make his way to the office. But he did have a point. I had a sizable amount of homework, and the thought of regaining some sense of normalcy to end a very frustrating, bizarre day, was very needed and even welcomed.
It was obvious that Mr. D didn’t host dinner parties. The condo didn’t have a dining room. There was a small alcove off the kitchen with a round table and four chairs. Plenty of room for a single man, and the table seemed like a perfect spot to make my temporary desk. The alcove was surrounded by windows, however, and I wasn’t sure about sitting in the middle of them front and center. Mr. D had made me feel comfortable about the sliding glass door in the living room being safe, but he hadn’t done so about the rest of the windows.
Just as I was about to go interrupt him from his work and ask, the doorbell rang.
I froze with backpack in hand, not knowing what to do. I shouldn’t be there. I was wearing the man’s t-shirt. There was no way in Hell this would look appropriate to a single soul who witnessed it.
Mr. D ran out of his office. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting guests either.
“Go hide,” he whispered, fear clearly written on his face. He obviously had the same thoughts that I did.
We were fucked if someone saw me standing in his living room, especially dressed the way I was.
I grabbed my books and did exactly as he ordered, quickly making my way to his office. Once I got inside, I still worried about being caught if for some reason they walked in. What if someone saw me enter? What if they wanted to search his apartment? What if it was a friend who walked about his house freely? I had no idea who was at the door, and I needed to prepare for the worst.
I saw a slatted wooden door in his office, and figured it was the closet. Hearing Mr. D open the front door, I knew I had to act fast. Juggling the books in my arms, I opened his closet and tried to enter, but he had it packed solid with boxes and storage containers. Realizing hiding in a closet was still a good idea, I bolted to his bedroom. Opening his closet, I entered, and squeezed myself to the furthest corner beneath his suits, his shirts, his hanging slacks, and sat next to all his shoes. Because of the slats in the door, the light from the room shone into the closet. Peeking through the slats, I could see his bed, his dresser, and another sliding glass door that I knew connected with the front balcony that was cracked open with a small breeze blowing in.
