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“Okeydoke.” I said, pulling the door to but keeping it slightly ajar so she could have privacy, but I could hear if she called. I turned away, my hands going back to holding up my hair, my eyes to the floor. I walked a step and then stopped dead.
I saw two bare feet, their heels and ankles covered with the hems of some faded jeans. My eyes traveled up the jeans, hit a set of well-defined abdominal muscles covered in luscious olive skin. The abs gave way to a very nice chest and shoulders, and on top of it all was Eddie’s head, complete with sexy-sleepy eyes and messy hair.
I froze and stared.
I totally forgot about Eddie.
“Where’s your bathroom?” he asked, his voice slightly gruff from sleep.
I didn’t have the capacity to speak, so I just took one of my hands from my hair and pointed at a door.
He walked the three steps to me, stopped, put his hand to my jaw and brushed his lips against mine. A thrill of electricity tore through my body, rooting me to the spot, and then he walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
I stood there a second then whirled and ran to Mom’s bedroom, suddenly full of energy. I threw her door open and charged in then closed it behind me.
Mom had the light on and was sitting on the side of the bed. Her head shot around and she looked at me, her eyes bright and wide awake.
“Was that a man’s voice I heard?” she asked.
I didn’t answer.
What could I say? I was in a tizzy.
I ran to her bathroom, throwing on the light and staring at myself in the mirror. Thank God, I didn’t look a fright. Face free of makeup and I didn’t have a bedhead. In fact, Trixie’s new ’do seemed the ultimate. It looked good all the time, even after I’d slept on it.
When I turned around, Mom was standing, leaning against the doorjamb to the bathroom.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
“I forgot to tell you, Eddie’s here,” I answered.
Her eyes got wide. “You brought a man home last night?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It isn’t what you—”
“That’s great!” she cried.
I closed my eyes.
My mother.
I opened my eyes.
“Mom, it isn’t what you think. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later.”
“You have a lot of long stories lately. None, incidentally, that you’ve actually told me,” Mom returned.
I didn’t have time for this. It was morning and Eddie was there.
“Mom,” I whined, sounding like a six year old. “Eddie’s here!”
Mom looked at me for a second, nodded and turned, all business. “Right. I need to use the bathroom, then you can help me get my bra on and I’ll get dressed.”
We took care of Mom first and I left her to the dressing bit. I used her bathroom and her face soap and tore her brush through my hair. I stared at myself in her mirror. I was wearing the LA Dodgers nightshirt that my sister sent me. It was huge and shapeless and came down to about mid-thigh. Eddie had already seen me in it, which wasn’t exactly devastating, but I wished I’d been wearing some cute girlie pajamas or a nightie.
I didn’t know what to do. If I got all dolled up before appearing in the common areas of the apartment, I’d look like I was trying too hard. But the Dodgers nightshirt lacked panache.
Who was I kidding? It was me who lacked panache.
