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He goes into his bedroom to get ready for work, and when he comes back out, he’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I dry my hands on a towel, and then he hands me what looks like a burner phone.
“I’ll be at the shop, but you call or text me if you need anything. You’ll be fine here. No one will mess with you.” His jaw hardens as he says that last bit.
“Okay,” I say.
He walks out of the door after one more glance at me.
I look down at the phone and see the number he’s programmed into it. I see a note where he’s added the name of the auto shop he works at and its address, and the thoughtfulness of his gesture gives me that warm, safe, cared-for feeling again.
Damon might just be a stranger I met in a bar last night, but he’s proving to be more of a friend than I’ve ever had.
While he’s gone, I remove the bandages from my feet and take a shower, standing under the hot spray for an extra long time like I’m trying to wash away every vestige of my old life. I soap up with Damon’s body wash and shampoo, the same scent I recognized on him when he’d carried me inside last night.
I put the big T-shirt back on when I’m done and finger comb my long tresses as well as I can without a brush and then push it back over my shoulders to air dry. I don’t have a toothbrush of my own yet, so I brush my teeth as best as I can with my finger and some of Damon’s toothpaste. It seems too invasive for me to use his toothbrush without his permission, and I blush just at the thought of doing so. I’ve already invaded so much of the poor man’s life.
My feet still sting a bit as I pad barefoot across the hardwood floor of Damon’s apartment, but they aren’t bleeding anymore, so I ignore the pain as I do what little I can to straighten up and clean for him.
His place isn’t very strolled or dirty, but I find a duster and dust every surface I can find before I clean the windows and then sweep and mop the floors. His decor is masculine and bordering on spartan. There aren’t any knick-knacks to dust around. Everything is minimalistic and functional. I’ve thoroughly cleaned everything way too soon, with the exception of his bedroom. I didn’t want to invade his privacy by entering his personal space without his knowledge.
I can’t stand sitting there doing nothing. I should be out looking for a job and trying to get my new life off on the ground, but I realize there’s nothing I can do with no clothes, so I finally settle in on his couch and grab the remote, flicking the TV on to some cooking show.
I mindlessly watch it for a while, not really paying attention, too lost in my thoughts, until my eyelids begin to slip closed.
