Threefold, Page 3

  “What are you doing?” Cade asked.

  “They were full of holes. I’m going to grab something else,” I responded.

  I glanced toward Cade, and shifted my eyes toward the bathroom door. After a short pause, I turned toward Cade again, “Hey, I’ve changed my mind. Let’s agree on something, okay?”

  “Depends, what?” he responded over his shoulder.

  “Unless she brings it up, don’t ask her about her past. Don’t ask about her being homeless, okay? I want her to be comfortable here,” I said.

  He looked up and shrugged his shoulders, “Agreed.”

  I walked to my room and grabbed a pair of cut off sweats I had turned into shorts. Although they were large, the drawstring was intact. I held them at arm’s length and studied the size, wondering what they would look like on her. I walked to the bathroom and tapped lightly on the door.

  As the door opened slightly, I craned my neck in an effort to see a glimpse of her. A very tan hand reached through the door opening. As I handed her the clothes, I glanced below the towel she was wrapped in and noticed a shapely but very pale thigh. I shifted my gaze upward and was met by one of her mysterious blue eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said as she closed the door.

  I stood and stared at the closed door for a moment before I shifted my gaze toward Cade. I felt as if I wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say. Many things about Rain intrigued me, but at least for now, I decided to keep my mouth shut.

  “Okay, they’re fine,” Cade said as he peeled the foil from the dish of enchiladas.

  I shook my head and chuckled as I walked toward the kitchen, “Glad to hear it, I’d hate for this chick to have to eat slightly overcooked cheese.”

  “Table, or here at the bar?” Cade asked.

  “Table,” I responded.

  He scrunched his nose and stared, “Seriously? We never eat at the table.”

  “We rarely have company. And it’ll be nice for her,” I shrugged.

  “Fine,” he responded as he carried the plates and silverware to the table.

  She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the living room. Cade stood directly behind her, carefully placing the plates and silverware on the table. As she raised her hands in the air and smiled, Cade’s eyes widened and he covered his mouth with both hands.

  “Ta-dah,” she said as she performed a makeshift curtsy.

  As I stood and stared, incapable of speaking, I realized that she was far more beautiful than my former high maintenance wife could ever be. Something, however, told me she had no idea she was as gorgeous as she actually was. I shifted my gaze from her to Cade, who still stood behind her staring with his hands covering his mouth.

  Sorry, Cade, but if I have any say, this girl isn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.

  RAIN

  As we ate our meal, I tried to do so slowly, and not like a savage. The food tasted so much different than what I had become accustomed to that it was difficult not to scarf it down like a starving Armenian. The two very gracious men seemed a little nervous, but continued to be very polite. Cade was almost overbearing with his courteous well-refined behavior. Ethan, on the other hand, seemed comfortable, but had stumbled a few times when attempting to speak. In my four years of being homeless, I had learned that most people proceeded with caution when speaking or asking questions for fear of offending me.

  Actually, nothing offended me.

  I watched the two men eat, and tried to match them bite for bite, not finishing my meal before they did. It seemed they were taking their own sweet time, but I couldn’t be certain. It had been a long, long time since I had sat down at a table and eaten an actual meal. It was quite possible my eagerness to shovel the food into my mouth hindered my ability to accurately understand the concept of time.

  Cade lifted his fork in the air and waved it toward me, “There’s plenty more. Have another plate if you like. I think I’ll have another.”

  I glanced toward Ethan.

  “I’m going to,” he nodded.

  It seemed strange carrying on an actual conversation. In recent years, I had gone weeks and possibly even as much as a month without even speaking to another human being other than a nod or saying hello. I decided to make a conscious effort to choose my words carefully and not sound like a complete idiot. Although I had befriended the librarian on the east side of town and spent a considerable amount of time during my days reading in the last few years, not communicating for long periods of time made doing so seem rather awkward.

  “I might. I’m getting pretty full. It’s very good, though,” I responded.

  Truthfully, I could have eaten all night.

  “Too spicy?” Cade asked.

  I shook my head, “Oh, no. It’s perfect. I like the enchiladas, but I really like the corn.”

  “A-loh-tay. It’s spelled E-L-O-T-E.” Ethan said as he carefully sounded out each syllable, “He makes it all the time. It’s corn and cheese.”

  “It’s goodness,” I said as I scooped up my last spoonful.

  Cade placed his fork on his plate and cupped his hands together. He reminded me of the gay kid I went to school with whose name continued to escape me. As I watched anxiously, he opened his mouth, sighed, and began to speak softly.

  “Thank you. I take pride in preparing my meals. Ethan eats it, burps, finishes his one beer, and goes to his room. It’s nice to have someone actually appreciate it and express their appreciation,” he said.

  “Fuck you, dude. Everything you cook is good. We both know it. I’m not going to praise you like you’re my wife, you’re my fucking roommate for Christ’s sake,” Ethan grunted as he pushed himself from the table.

  “Hand me your plate, I’ll get you some more,” Ethan said as he reached for my plate.

  Cade rolled his eyes and shook his head lightly. After what seemed to be a self-conscious clearing of his hair from his forehead, he sighed heavily, “Let her finish what she’s eating, Ethan. I’ll get it for her when she’s done.”

  Ethan held his hand to the side of my plate and waited as he glared at Cade. After a moment, I lifted my plate to his hand.

  “Thank you,” I said as he accepted the plate.

  Mental note: Ethan’s the alpha.

  I lifted my hand to my face and acted as if I was scratching my nose with the side of my index finger. As I grazed the tip of my nose with my first knuckle, I inhaled a slow shallow breath.

  God I smell good.

  “I really liked the smell of that soap; the orange one. What was it again?” I asked openly.

  “White bottle?” Ethan asked from the kitchen.

  “No, clear,” I responded over my shoulder.

  Cade rolled his eyes and flipped his bangs out of his face, “It’s mine. It’s good stuff. Axe. It’s the Snake Peel. Does it smell like citrus?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Love that stuff,” Cade grinned.

  “Smells like shit. The white bottle’s better. Try it in the morning, you’ll love it,” Ethan said as he walked away from the kitchen, both hands holding overly stuffed plates of food.

  “In the morning?” I asked under my breath.

  Ethan shrugged and shifted his eyes toward Cade, “Not much sense in leaving tonight. It’s raining like a motherfucker, and it’s already hailed twice. Probably hail all night.”

  “He’s right,” Cade agreed, “The weather is awful. You should just stay. Your clothes won’t be done for a while anyway.”

  Ethan set his plate down and walked around the table. As he handed me my plate, he grinned, “He’s right. You should stay.”

  Before Ethan had a chance to walk away, Cade reached into his lap, raised his cellphone, and smiled.

  “Lean in…” Cade said under his breath.

  “Damn it, Cade. You know how I hate…” Ethan said as he turned away.

  “Come on, we may never get a better chance,” Cade sighed as he raised his phone above our heads.

  “What?�
� I shrugged.

  “Scooch in here and I’m going to take a picture of all of us,” Cade said as he glanced over his shoulder toward Ethan, “Come on you big ape.”

  As Ethan leaned down, resting his elbows on the table on one side of Cade, I leaned over and laid my head on his other shoulder and smiled. The phone clicked as he took a few photos. After the third or so, Ethan grumbled, stood, and walked to his side of the table. Cade scrolled through the photos, put the phone back in his pocket, and turned toward me. After staring at me mindlessly for a moment with his mouth partially open, he glanced down at his plate. He played with his rice and beans with the end of his fork for a moment, and eventually looked up and smiled. I smiled in return before shifting my eyes to Ethan.

  “You can sleep in my room, I’ll sleep on the couch,” Ethan said as he sat down.

  I expected at best they’d feed me, fuck me, and ask me to leave. I had no idea they’d make such a generous offer to a girl they didn’t even know.

  “I could be a serial killer,” I said as I turned my plate in a half circle, positioning my corn directly in front of me.

  “Not big enough. You’re too small,” Ethan said flatly as he raised a forkful of enchiladas to his mouth.

  “If you feel a compulsion to kill, please kill him first. I’ll help with the body,” Cade chuckled as he shook his fork toward Ethan.

  “You dip-shit. You’d barf at the sight of a dead body,” Ethan barked.

  “Well, at least I’m not a cold-hearted tattooed biker,” Cade snapped back.

  Ethan rested his elbow on the table and raised his fork in front of his face as he cocked one eyebrow, “Cold hearted? Are you fucking serious?”

  It was entertaining watching two grown men act in the manner they were acting. It was almost as if they were fighting over possession of me. I knew they weren’t, but as they argued, I told myself they were. It felt really nice thinking about it. The thought of having someone care enough to even make the offers they had made caused me to feel wanted, attractive, and almost valuable. As I slowly began to eat my corn, I drifted away to thoughts of this night continuing for nothing short of a lifetime.

  I gazed into my little ceramic bowl. It was empty. It seemed like only a matter of seconds prior it had been full of corn. Still staring into the bowl and feeling confused, I sighed and glanced upward. It appeared Ethan and Cade had become involved in some form of a silent battle with each other. Facial expressions and body language changed every few seconds. I alternated glances between them and finally broke their little argument up by speaking.

  “I’ll sleep on the floor by the ottoman,” I said without looking up, “How’s that?”

  Ethan shook his head and lowered his fork to his plate, “Wouldn’t even think of letting you do that.”

  “The upstairs bedroom is full of junk and doesn’t even have furniture, so it’s not an option,” Cade sighed as he glanced upward toward the second floor.

  I cut a perfect sized bite of enchilada and held the fork to my mouth as I glanced toward Ethan, “Well, I can’t kick you out of your own bed.”

  “Sleep with me then,” he shrugged.

  Oh dear God.

  I attempted unsuccessfully to swallow the enchiladas. After the second attempt, I searched the table for my water as I began to cough. After choking on the food, and later choking on the water, I glanced at him with watering eyes and continued to cough between the words as I tried to speak.

  This was difficult for me to say, but I needed to know one way or the other.

  “Okay…” I said in a low scratchy tone.

  After clearing my throat, I continued, “As long as it’s understood. No sex.”

  He shook his head and reached for his fork, “Hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

  I raised my glass of water to my lips and gazed at the ceiling over his head.

  Thank you.

  ETHAN

  I stared up at the ceiling and studied the shadows. Because I refused to pull the blinds, the blue-white glow from the street lights never really allowed it to be totally dark in my bedroom. I preferred the dimly lit room much more than the darkness, it reminded me of moonlight. My choosing to let the light from the fifteen foot long, ten foot tall windows seep in allowed me to feel less confined; almost as if I were sleeping outside. I raised my hands to my chest, crossed my arms, and broke the awkward silence.

  I rolled my head to the side and stared at the silhouette of her face against the almost spiritual glow the streetlights cast around her, “Describe yourself in one word.”

  She tilted her head to face me, “What do you mean?”

  “In one word, describe yourself,” I repeated.

  “Short,” she laughed.

  “That’s not a good description. Describe everything about you in one word. Not your height, but everything about you. Sum it up in one word,” I said under my breath as I continued to study her.

  “Okay, hold on. Uhhm, I’d say…I’d have to say I was…Yeah, let’s go with this,” she hesitated and appeared to close her eyes.

  As she opened her eyes, she continued, “Transparent.”

  I uncrossed my arms, pressed my elbows into the mattress, and sat up, “What? Not at all. Try again.”

  She rolled her head back and forth on the pillow, “You want accuracy? That’s my description. Now, it’s your turn.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll go with determined,” I responded.

  “Nice to know,” she said as she gazed up at the ceiling.

  Still sitting up in the bed, I crossed my arms and gazed down at her, “Now, back to what you said. Why would you describe yourself as transparent?”

  She shrugged as she began to sit up, “I don’t know, maybe because for my entire life, no one paid any attention to me. It’s been kind of like I don’t exist. I think transparent is accurate. It’s like I’m invisible.”

  I swallowed heavily as I thought of the difficult time she must have had as a child, “I’m sorry your feel that way.”

  She turned her head and gazed out the window, “I don’t feel this way. It’s just how my life has been. My mother was beautiful, but eventually became addicted to morphine and pills. And I’d guess you’d have to call her an alcoholic; that is if you were going to call her anything. My stepfather was a monster. She wouldn’t protect me from him so I left.”

  Although I wondered and felt compelled to ask, Cade and I had agreed not to ask her anything about her homelessness, and I intended to keep my promise. If she offered, I decided I’d listen, but I wasn’t going to push the subject. Now that she brought it up, I wanted to know more.

  “When did you…or how old were you when you left?” I asked.

  She turned to face me and stared with an expressionless face. I gazed at her, wishing I could see the blue in her eyes.

  “Fifteen,” she responded flatly.

  “You’ve been homeless ever since?” I asked.

  “No, I moved out at fifteen. I lived with a girlfriend. She was going to go to the Community College in El Dorado after we graduated, so I moved out when high school was over. After about six months on my own, I lost my job and…well…I couldn’t make it with bills and stuff. I just…I don’t know, being homeless seemed easier. There’s very little pressure,” she shrugged.

  “So this might sound weird, but do you like it? Being homeless?” I asked.

  “I’ve been telling myself so for four years. I started out east, and eventually moved south. I’d been living on the south side for a little more than a year. It got pretty rough. I uhhm. Well…yeah…glad that’s over. So, finally, I’d had enough of it and moved downtown. Probably about the time you saw me the first time. You said you saw me a month ago, right?” she asked as she ran her hands through her hair.

  I swallowed a lump which had developed in my throat and nodded my head.

  “Yeah,” I responded dryly.

  “Well, that’s when I moved here. I decided I needed a change. I’ve been sleeping wherever I
can find a place; it’s easy in the summer, but winter’s a real bitch. I just didn’t really want to go to that park or the bridge at Kellogg. I kept telling myself things were going to change for me, but coming down here made me realize things weren’t going to change for me because I moved,” she paused and sighed deeply.

  “If I wanted to see change, I was going to have to make it. I just haven’t come up with a plan yet,” she said.

  “You said the south side was pretty rough. What was, well, what was different about it?” I asked.

  She turned toward the window and stared for a long moment before she responded. Eventually, the words came in a quiet, almost monotone voice, “There were these guys. They forced me to do things. Bad things. This one, he was the uhhm, kind of like the leader. He kept finding me, over and over. So he took me to this old building, and he uhhm. He said…he told me it was where I had to stay…for the uhhm, well, at night. If I left, he’d find me. That’s what he said. He’d find me. And then, one day it wasn’t one of them. It was just…” she paused and swallowed audibly.

  I was beginning to feel almost sick. The thought of what she must have been through began to sink in. Before I could arrange words to express my feelings, she continued.

  “It was a blur. Like just over and over. I thought it wasn’t going to end. Then I woke up, and there was no one there. I laid there for a long time. I slept a lot. It was like it sucked life out of me. I couldn’t even stand up for a long time. I don’t know. Maybe three or four days or so I was in there, wondering if they were going to come back the whole time. I drank uhhm. They uhhm, they left some of their beers and stuff. I don’t know. So, finally I got up and…yeah. So that’s when I came here.”

  I pressed my biceps into the backs of my hands and squeezed my chest with my forearms as I glanced beyond her and toward the building across the street. Comprehending being homeless, and attempting to understand magnitude of her life and what she had lost - once I started to think about it seriously - was extremely difficult if not completely impossible. Attempting to do so caused me to feel selfish for thinking I had any problems at all.

  “It goes without saying, but I’m uhhm. I’m sorry,” I hesitated and cleared my throat, “If you got to pick, you know, if you could snap your fingers and change things, would you choose to be homeless?” I asked.