Five
The next morning Dennis was the first up and out of bed. The light had just started to peek through the curtains, the visible shaft falling on Fiona’s bare back and blanketed bottom. Dennis sat on the side of the bed, found his underpants and pulled them on. He wanted to write this morning. Fact was, he never missed an opportunity to get some words in before the afternoon.
Last night wasn’t much more than a blur, but he came away remembering three distinct things. Fiona had taken the lead last night, she had come, and after he had finished they had sat nude in bed, eating sandwiches and watching TV for the next two hours.
By the time Dennis had finished his morning bout of writing Fiona had woken up. She was dressed in a pair of black sweats and a Colorado State T-shirt, and for a brief moment Dennis considered asking if she had ever attended college, then decided against it.
“Good morning hug,” she said, extending her arms just outside the hallway. Dennis smiled, strolled over and embraced her. He felt the give of her breasts against him and nearly became hard on the spot. He gently let go and stepped back.
“Now, come on,” she said, rubbing his arm. “Didn’t last night make you feel better? I can tell you, it was just the thing I needed.”
“You know,” Dennis said, walking over to the fridge and opening up the door. “That is something I wondered about.” He grabbed some eggs, cheese, and orange juice, kicked the fridge door closed and put all the items on the counter. Fiona was seated on a stool on the opposite side.
“What do you mean,” she said.
“A girl in your position. Maybe I’ll refer to you as a transient. How does a girl like you go on dates, meet guys, make love?”
Fiona snickered. “You said make love. You ever heard the term slapping bellies?”
Dennis smirked. “Yeah, I’ve heard it.”
“Well, if you know how the world works Dennis, an attractive girl—even a not so attractive one—can slap bellies pretty much anywhere she goes. Guys will give sex like a capable homeless man swallows his pride. Always.”
“So, you just pick up guys and do one night stands?” Dennis had the skillet out and had mixed the eggs and the cheese and was actively pouring it in the pan when he realized she hadn’t responded. He looked at her, and saw a strange smile on her face. Almost seductive.
“Is that your thing, Dennis? One night stands.”
“Really. I want to know.”
She shook her head. “Hell no. The only time I ever sleep with a guy is when I’m staying at one place, which is only three times out of the year.”
“So how did you know you were going to see me past last night? Considering you were on the move?”
She shrugged, picking at her fingernail. “I don’t really know, to be honest with you. At first I just wanted to kick it and talk. Yeah…I’d have to say the liquor changed the night’s intended trajectory.”
“Is that so?” Dennis chuckled.
She smiled. “You know, I considered what it would be like to be a poet at one point, and the thought bored me to tears.”
“Wow, I’m surprised you say that. Writing probably gives me the best kind of rush I can get. I don’t know what heroin’s like, but—”
“I should hope you don’t.”
Dennis laughed. “But the joy I get from it—not necessarily the sensation but the joy—is the same. Based on how people describe it. They say heroin is like touching God.”
“That’s an interesting analogy.”
“Well, I’m sure you could’ve done better. Here.” He handed her eggs on a paper plate, the fork on the side.
“Thank you. You…you’re not going to eat anything?”
Dennis had made just enough eggs for her. He grabbed a banana out of a brown basket near the sink.
“No,” he said. “I’m good with this.”
“Put that down,” she said, grinning. “Grab a fork and come eat this with me.”
Dennis put the banana down, walked around the counter and joined her. She stabbed the eggs with the fork, and fed a bite to him.
“So,” she said, taking the next bite. “Do your skills extend beyond making eggs, or are you doomed to cooking one meal breakfasts’ forever?”
“They go further, but not by much.”
She nodded. “Okay. So…I have a question for you, and I want you to be honest.”
“All right,” Dennis said. “Shoot.”
“Did you mean what you said? About taking care of me?”
“I did,” he said quickly. “I really did. But I know you don’t really know me and I don’t really know you so we shouldn’t jump into anything. But it’s just something we can try out and if it doesn’t work, I could fix you up in a nice place for six months or a year so you can get on your feet and we’ll move on with our own lives.”
“I wouldn’t make you do that. What right would I have? To say everything that I’ve said and then take a handout?”
Dennis put his hand on her wrist and she looked into his eyes.
“Tell me what it is you expect of me,” she said, her face solemn.
“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”
“I mean what you see here Dennis. You realize you might never get more than this. I talked about finding myself. What if I’m just trying to find myself for the rest of my life? It’ll just be a waste of your time and that isn’t fair to you.”
“You’re young. I don’t mind you taking time to find yourself. I mean, as long as it doesn’t mean you’ll be leaving me to be homeless for a year then coming back.
She chuckled. Looked down at her plate. “No, I wouldn’t do that.”
“Well then, let’s do it. Make it official right now. Try finding yourself with me”
“This is crazy though,” she said, impaling a bunch of egg with her fork. “We barely know each other and now I’m going to be moving in with you like I’m your wife. I just…”
He closed her left hand in both of his and they locked eyes.
“This will work,” he said.
He couldn’t help but notice the bags under her eyes, and realized that she must’ve been up half the night watching TV. He wasn’t certain how long it had actually been because he had been out like a light.
“All right,” she said, smiling. “Let’s do it.”