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His smile broadens as a flush heats my cheeks.
I clear my throat. “I meant I could come back later.”
He drops the towel, flashing me with a full frontal of his glorious, naked body.
“There’s nothing you haven’t seen,” he says, “so don’t let me keep you from your work.”
He’s wrong. The white, embossed line running diagonally across his knee is new to me. So is the circular mark surrounded by finer lines, like a spider’s web, on his foot. He looks like a perfect Frankenstein specimen, angrily stitched together and magnificently hard. There’s not an inch of him that’s not one hundred percent man, in every right and every wrong way possible.
For an utterly embarrassing moment, I’m frozen to the spot, staring at him like an idiot. It’s Gabriel who breaks the spell by walking to a rack of shirts. His ass looks like it’s chiseled from marble.
My breath flutters as I force my eyes away and continue the task of making his bed. All the while, I’m aware of him. He pulls on a white shirt and buttons it up. Next follow briefs, black slacks, and silver tie. He sits down on a stool to pull on socks and expensive looking shoes. He opens a drawer and selects a pair of cufflinks, which he fits without difficulty.
I’ve never watched a man’s grooming. There’s something intimate about it. It’s like a privilege he’s given me, allowing me to watch. All dressed up, he leaves the room, trailing his palm over my backside on his way out. The caress is so light, maybe I imagined it. Alone, with no one to see, I fluff out his pillow and push my face into it. I inhale his scent, remembering the taste of him in my mouth. What is it like to be a woman from his world, treasured and respected, and not a maid or sex toy? We’re worlds apart, and our worlds don’t mix.
* * *
For the remainder of the day, I keep a watchful eye on Oscar. His frequent urination stops in the late afternoon. It’s safe to let him out of my room. Besides, he can’t stay here all weekend when I leave.
Gabriel is out when my weekly shift comes to an end. I’m nervous to leave the grounds even if Magda was clear on the rules, but I’m also anxious to see Charlie and Kris. I shove a change of clothes and the container of food remains into a grocery bag and check that Oscar has enough food before I go. Outside, I find Rhett on the porch.
“Hi.” I clutch the bag in my hands. “I’m off until Monday.”
“I know.”
“I’ll need the new key to my flat.”
“You’re going back there?”
“I need to tie up loose ends.”
“Wait here.” He disappears inside and exits a short while later with a set of keys he places in my hand. “The big one’s for the main lock, and the two small ones for the top and bottom deadlocks.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going there now?”
“Probably tomorrow. I’m first going to see my brother.” I also want to visit Puff’s grave. “Where did you bury Puff?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I want to put flowers on his grave.”
“You don’t want to put shit out there. In fact, I’m not sure you should go anywhere near that neighborhood.”
From the look he gives me, I’m scared he’s going to prevent me from leaving, so I say quickly, “See you Monday.”
He doesn’t reply, but doesn’t stop me either. When he presses a code on his phone that opens the gate, I rush through with relief. There are no public busses in this area, but if I walk far enough, I’ll eventually hit the off-ramp to the highway where I can catch a minivan taxi. I flag one down after a fifty-minute walk. I’m the only white girl in the van and receive nasty remarks about the color of my skin from the other passengers, but the driver is kind and lets me sit up front until he drops me off in Orange Grove.
A Jewish community mostly populates the area because of the synagogue. In Rocky Street, I pause to feed the food remains to the street dogs before hurrying the last two blocks to Kris’ house. I enter through the adjoining clinic. A few clients are waiting in the reception area. Kris runs an honest to God good practice for the love of it. She charges way less than what she should, and I know she treats a lot of animals for free when the clients can’t afford the medicine or consultations. She barely makes ends meet, and I feel bad for saddling her with my problems, but I have no one else.
There’s no assistant. She hasn’t replaced me yet. I knock on the consultation room door and push it open.
