“Um, well, I guess I’ll take that as a compliment then.”
I smiled shyly and scurried away. Before the man left, he stopped at the bulletin board and read over my advertisement for kids’ piano lessons.
When he tore off a little phone-number tab, I said, “That’s me,” and pointed my finger right at my boob like an idiot.
“Okay?” He hesitated. “I’ll call you?” It was a question. I shook my head up and down frantically.
He smiled and chuckled and then just like that, he was gone. “He wasn’t wearing a wedding band!” Jenny sighed. I didn’t respond.
Track 3: Ask Me
The following day at exactly 12:01 the buzzer sounded. Punctual, I like it. I skipped over to the speaker. “Yes?”
“Hey, it’s Will.” I buzzed him in. He was up the stairs in a second and rapped a silly little beat on the door.
I opened it wide. “Hey, come on in.”
“Hi, Roomy!”
He stepped in, then stood there transfixed for a minute before looking around. I observed his every move. He walked through the living room and kitchen, which was one big loft-style room. The kitchen had a breakfast bar and two big windows facing out to the street. The other side of the room was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, full of records, CDs, and books. “Ah, Mia, this place is great. Are those your dad’s old records?”
“Yeah.” I felt a twinge of sadness about Pops. Will set his bag down next to the coffee table that sat between two identical beige sofas that faced each other. The upright piano was against a little section of wall just as you entered the hallway.
“I love this piano,” Will said as he ran his fingers over the keys. He was like a kid in a candy shop. My father had black-and-white photos everywhere. Will paused at a picture of my father and me from a few years back. He turned to face me, his eyes narrowed into the listening-to-God look. Then he smiled and said, “You’re beautiful.” I realized how handsome and expressive Will’s face was close up. The way he spoke to me made me believe that he could never tell a lie.
“Thank you,” I said softly and then moved to change the subject. “I’ll show you the room.” He walked behind me down the hall toward his new room. I was unreasonably nervous, like I had just asked him to take me to bed. I showed him the large bathroom that we would be sharing. He seemed happy and said it was literally the size of the storage closet he had just moved from. The two bedrooms at the end of the hall were identical, one on the left and one on the right. I was in my father’s room on the right, which had a window out to a courtyard in the back of the building. The room on the left had windows that faced out to the street. It also had a little platform and fire escape, which I figured Will could smoke on since there would be no smoking inside the apartment. I pointed to the closed door of my room. “That’s my room.” I hoped he got the message that it was off limits. “And here’s yours.”
I let him walk in front of me and then I stood in the doorway and watched him as he looked around. On the wall there was a poster of Eddie Veddar singing onstage with long hair. It was from back in the grunge days; he was shirtless and sweaty. His eyes were closed and he was gripping the microphone.
Pointing to the poster, Will smirked. “Not your father’s, I take it?”
“This used to my room during the summers.”
In his best girly voice he said, “It’s like he’s singing right into my soul.”
“Shut up!” I whined sheepishly, “Take it down, do whatever you want.” I pointed to the window. “You can smoke out there.”
“Oh, I quit.”
“Good for you,” I said. The room had a bed with blue bedspread and a dresser in the corner. I had taken everything else out.
“This is perfect,” he said, smiling widely.
“So we have to figure out some kind of rules for privacy and all that.”
“Well you work days and I work nights, so I’m sure it will be fine.” He stared at me and then continued. “What did you mean, like a sock on the door type of thing?”
“No, no. You’re right, it will be fine. Anyway, we can just figure it out as we go.” I had no idea how meaningful those words would become.
“Sounds like a plan, Roomy.” Then he winked.
“Okay, so where’s the rest of your stuff?”
“That’s it,” he said, pointing to the big duffle bag he brought in. “Oh, and my guitars and a little practice amp that Dustin, our drummer, is bringing over in his van. He’ll be here in a bit.”
“I just realized I know nothing about you. Do you have a family? Where are you from?” The idea that I just invited a relative stranger, who owns nothing, to live in my apartment gave me a stomachache, but the weird thing was that I felt like I had known him forever.
“I’m from Detroit; my entire family still lives there. My mom works in a bakery at a grocery store and my dad is a retired electrician. I have twelve brothers and sisters.”