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Of course she jumped on it.
Morals or not, money was a big motivator for people who didn’t have it.
Her apartment building was almost identical to the rest of the ones on the block. A little old and dated, but made with good bones.
“You really don’t need to walk me up,” she insisted as we moved inside the elevator that sported some graffiti that made it clear someone with some street affiliations lived in the building.
That was not a fact that should have bothered me, but I couldn’t shake the strange, protective sensation as we rode up silently to the fifth floor.
I reallydidn’tneed to walk her up. I wasn’t really sure why I was insisting on doing so.
“Gotta write down the care instructions,” I told her as we walked toward her door.
That was a bullshit excuse. If she thought so too, though, she kept her mouth shut as she unlocked her door, turned on her light, and allowed me to follow her inside.
I never really gave my own apartment much thought when it came to decorating it. That wasn’t my forte, and I wouldn’t pretend it was. I had a bed to sleep in and a TV to watch. And space I didn’t have to share with some random con. That was what mattered to me.
But, clearly, I was missing out.
Because while my apartmentwasmy home, Whitney’s apartmentfeltlike a home.
Nothing looked designer or expensive, but it seemed like she’d put a lot of care and attention to detail into making it her own little haven.
From the cheery mustard-yellow walls to the mid-century modern dark green velvet couch that looked like something my grandmother would have sported proudly in her place, right down to the little trinkets on the coffee table and the art scattered around.
There was a whole wall of white bookcases with books stacked double-deep on them, making the cheap fake wood shelves bow under the pressure. Other books were scattered around too. One on the arm of the sofa, another on the kitchen counter, and a stack of shiny plastic-wrapped ones with library tags on the spines sitting on a chair, likely waiting to be returned.
Lined up behind the door to the hallway were two big plastic container totes that seemed to sport shit to decorate a classroom with, just sitting there waiting for the next school year to roll around.
If she taught in the same area she lived, it looked like some of the cash we were floating her way might go to helping some underprivileged kids’ classroom to feel a fuckuva lot less depressing.
“Here’s a notepad,” she said, waving toward her kitchen island that cut the space off from the living area. “A supply list and instructions would be appreciated. I, ah, I am really not good with wounds,” she admitted as she went to her coffee machine and started to make a fresh pot.
“Meaning you don’t know what to do with ‘em, or you can’t stand looking at ‘em?” I asked as I grabbed the pen and started to jot down some supplies.
“Ah, well, both, I guess. I mean I can, you know, not look and squeeze some peroxide on it if I have to.”
“Ah, no the fuck you won’t,” I said, watching as she whipped around in response to the edge in my town. “Babe, how old are you?” I asked, watching as her brows knitted at me, making me think she wasn’t going to answer.
“Thirty-seven.”
“Thirty-seven years you’ve been on this planet, and you haven’t learned that you don’t use peroxide on a wound?”
“I, ah, I guess,” she said, shaking her head a little. “Why not, though?”
“Because it eats away at the skin as its trying to heal. Don’t over-treat a wound. There’s a reason hospitals use saline, not peroxide. More isn’t always better with this type of shit. You’ll end up delaying healing. It’s not always easy to find saline, and I don’t advise making it yourself. I’ll get some dropped off here later. Clean with fucking saline only.”
“Okay. I can do that,” I agreed, nodding. “Anything else?”
“Not unless it is looking infected. And by that I mean it is looking red or puffy.”
“I know what infected looks like,” she insisted, rolling her eyes at me.
“Hey, with that peroxide comment, I had to make sure.”
“What if it looks infected?”
“Then you need to see me about it.”
