Most nights, he sat by the back door in his fur waiting for me. A few nights, though, I came home to an empty house, which explained his decreased reading. He only read about one book a week, still preferring mechanics.
I began to notice a few things that made me wonder how he spent his time. He mysteriously owned more than several pair of jeans even though I’d only bought him one. He also had a few new shirts. Although, he seemed to favor the ones I’d gotten him, especially the flannel. When I tried asking where he went, as usual, he didn’t answer.
Tuesdays, still one of the nights Rachel stayed over at Peter’s, Clay had dinner ready when I got home. He also did laundry for me if I forgot to do it before then.
On our dinner nights, he still didn’t talk, but I gradually learned more about him through many well-phrased questions. I guessed for over a minute trying to figure out his favorite color. Pink… naturally. What guy wouldn’t have a feminine stereotyped color as a favorite? I gave up trying to guess why after twenty minutes. He also liked trying new foods. After I learned that, I made it a point to bring home one unique food item each week. Fruits like pineapple and kiwi disappeared quickly. Vegetables like okra and Brussels sprouts… well, I laughed long and hard watching him eat those.
I discovered that his dad, now deceased, taught him how to read at an early age. The education he’d received comprised essentially of home schooling. I’d only thought to ask about his education after finding a wallet on my dresser.
Since he’d crouched right behind me when I spotted it, I’d looked at him questioningly and not getting any type of response, I’d peeked inside. He could have barked or something to tell me to stop, but he didn’t. Viewing the contents of his wallet had been informative. On his driver’s license, he looked just as scruffy with the exception of the clearer view of his eyes. I’d stared at that photo for quite a while until his laughing penetrated my fascination.
Behind the license, I found a folded copy of his GED transcript. When I asked him how he managed to get his GED and a driver’s license without speaking, he stopped communicating with me for the night. Moody.
The glimpse at his eyes in the photo started me back on the ‘off with the beard’ kick. His standard response was to bare his teeth. Darn canines.
Telling him about my abilities had no noticeable effect on our relationship other than to open a floodgate in me. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from telling him about all the weird or exciting things that happened to me on campus, the only time he couldn’t shadow me.
He sat and listened to me, giving his full attention. I’d grown so used to his attentiveness, he had confused me when he abruptly walked away from me after telling him I’d received an invitation to a Halloween party.
Nicole from my basic massage class invited me, begging that I go with her. During our one course together, she’d admitted to liking one of the guys in the room who planned on attending and she didn’t want to go alone. Everything in me cringed at the idea of going to a party. I’d told her that I’d never been to one because of the way guys acted around me, which she’d admitted to noticing. However, she didn’t seem concerned when I pointed out the plan could back fire and the guy she liked could start bugging me again. He’d tried for the first two weeks of class then gave up.
I’d wanted to talk to Clay about it, but after he walked away from me, I didn’t mention it again.
The last Saturday in October, I found myself getting ready for a Halloween party instead of studying.
Clay’s grumbling as he watched me put on makeup made it pretty clear what he thought of the idea. I’d borrowed some of his clothes, the stuff that would fit without falling off, and slicked back my hair under a ball cap. Using some funky hair gel from Rachel, I combed some of my hair to look like pork chop sideburns and began the process of penciling in some thick, manly eyebrows.
“What do you think?” I asked turning to Clay who stood on the bed so he could watch my progress over my shoulder in the mirror.
He grumped again then jumped off the bed to leave. Obviously not a fan.
“Rach?” I called to let her know I’d finished. She’d started out as my costume consultant until she presented me with a skimpy dress from her closest and suggested that I go as a call girl. I’d kicked her out then. Clay had looked ready to rip apart the dress.
The door flew open and only Clay’s agile reflexes saved him from a concussion.
Rachel took one look at me and demanded, “What the hell did you do?”
Her shocked expression was priceless.