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The sun, the smell of the surf, the laughter of children were all things she’d failed to notice since Jake had died. Losing him had drained her reserves of even the things she loved most, reading at the top of the list of things that couldn’t hold her interest. Sofia had just started to get engrossed in reading again, and that in turn led to wanting to write.
Driving the winding roads to the house, she slowed down as 626 Andover came into view. In the bright light of day, it was a dazzling older home appearing to be in beautiful condition. In that neighborhood real estate was so expensive, she was sure the crappy shed he “let” Ryan stay in, even without a toilet, would get at least a thousand dollars a month rent, like renting a room with kitchen privileges.
While she idled at the curb, a thought came to her. Why not invite Ryan to live with her? The guest room was private, at the front of the townhouse close to the entrance, so he could come and go as he pleased. She’d make it clear that there were no strings attached, nothing was expected of him but to continue working so he could move on to independence. And in the meantime, he wouldn’t have to live in the shed.
A tap on the car door sent her into the air at least six inches.
“I’m so sorry,” the man said.
“You scared me!”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m Ryan’s landlord. I saw you with him last night.”
“Sofia Saint,” she said.
“Can I help you with anything?”
“No, I’m just being nosy. Trying to figure this thing out.”
“Just in case you’re wondering why we don’t invite him to live inside, I have four young women here. It just felt too close.”
“Okay, I understand. I wasn’t judging. Just curious. I hope you’ll keep it to yourself that I was here. I don’t want to make more trouble for Ryan.”
“I won’t say a word. We’re fond of Ryan. What happened to him was a tragedy. We’ll do what we can to help him get back on his feet. But the work has to come from him. It has to cost him something.”
She nodded, trying to make sense of what he was saying.
“Thank you, sir,” she said. “I’ll be on my way now.”
He stepped away from the car and nodded at her, smiling, seemingly unoffended. Hopefully, he’d keep the secret.
Making her way back to the apartment, she decided not to assume anything about Ryan. She wouldn’t have a meal ready for him or try to talk him into staying again. He’d made it clear in his text that he’dbe by to get his things.
As a wave of sadness washed over her, she saw right away what she’d done. She’d picked up a mentally ill man off the street, and just because he’d held her hand on the beach after pouring out his heart to reveal that awful story, she’d allowed feelings for him to grow.
“I guess that’s what loneliness will do to a woman,” she said out loud. “Ugh.”
The upcoming week would arrive whether or not she prepared for it. There was laundry to do and dry cleaning to pick up, food to prepare so she didn’t have to go out again, possibly running into another handsome panhandler.
Back at her apartment, she was throwing laundry into the dryer when the doorbell rang. An adrenaline rush that was almost painful in its punch followed her to the door. Plastering a smile on her face, she opened up to handsome Ryan. Heat flooded her body when she saw there was a woman, a girl really, standing behind him.
“Hey, Sofia. This is my new coworker Tiffany. She offered to take me home.”
With the smile still in place, Sofia stood aside to let them pass by.
“I live over on Brinkley,” she said. “It’s a hop, skip, and a jump to Andover.”
“Gotcha,” Sofia replied.
It couldn’t have been more awkward. Did this guy just tell her the story of his life? Sleep in her guest room?Hold her hand?And now he was withTiffany? Would Ryan share that gut-wrenching horror story of losing his wife and everything else with her?
“I think I’ve got everything,” Ryan said, coming out of the bedroom. “Thanks again, Sofia.” He winked at her as they walked out of the apartment, Tiffany yelling, “It was nice meeting you.”
She watched the couple talking animatedly walking to her car, and then shut and locked the door. Stomping with purpose to the guest room he’d just vacated, she tore the covers and sheets off the bed, stripped the pillows, and stuffed everything into the hamper. They’d be the next load with plenty of bleach. Unreasonable angst drove her, jealousy and hurt feelings, like a little girl.
“You’re overreacting,” she singsonged.
In the bathroom, she poured toilet cleaner into the toilet and then splashed some of it around the bathtub. Gathering his towels up, she threw them into the hamper, too. Then she scrubbed the bathroom down.What better way to spend a Saturday night than disinfecting your home,she thought, seething.
