“Hey!” I said, a little sharper than I’d intended.
He stopped almost guiltily, and it was then that I noticed the small basket near my feet. A quick glance showed it contained ramen noodles, Tylenol, and pizza coupons.
“College survival kit,” he said, coming toward me with a hesitant smile. “I guessed from seeing you unload your books last night that you’re attending school, too. I’m your neighbor, Timmie. Uh, Tim. I mean Tim.”
The obvious cover-up of a nickname had me smiling. Childhood baggage was hard to overcome. In my case, I’d never get past mine.
“I’m Cathy,” I replied, using my school name again. “Thanks for the goodies, and I didn’t mean to bark at you. I’m just grouchy when I wake up.”
He was instantly apologetic. “I’m sorry! I just assumed you’d be awake. Jeez, am I dumb. Go back to sleep, please.”
He turned to go into his apartment, and something about his hunched shoulders and awkward demeanor reminded me of…me. That was how I felt on the inside most of the time. Unless I was killing someone.
“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “Er, I had to get up anyway, and the alarm clock must not have gone off, so…do you have any coffee?”
I didn’t even really like coffee, but he’d made a nice gesture and I didn’t want him feeling bad. Seeing the relief that washed over him made me glad for the small lie.
“Coffee,” he repeated with another shy smile. “Yeah. Come on in.”
I wasn’t wearing anything under the robe. “Give me a second.”
After throwing on sweatpants and a T-shirt, I padded over in slippers to Timmie’s place. He’d left the door open, and the aroma of Folgers filled the air. It was the same brand my grandparents had brewed all my life. In a way, it was comforting to smell it.
“Here.” He handed me a mug and I sat on the stool by his counter. The layouts of our apartments were identical, except of course Timmie’s place had furniture. “Cream and sugar?”
“Sure.”
I studied him as he went about the small kitchen. Timmie was only a few inches taller than me, not quite six feet, and had sandy-colored hair and taupe eyes. He wore glasses and had the type of frame that looked like it had only filled out from the skinniness of adolescence recently. My internal suspicious radar so far hadn’t picked up anything threatening about him. Still, it seemed every time someone was nice to me, he or she had ulterior motives. Danny? One-night stand. Ralphie and Martin? Attempted date rape. Stephanie? White slavery. I had a reason to be paranoid. If I felt even the slightest bit woozy after drinking this coffee, Timmie was going down for the count.
“So, uh, Cathy, are you from Ohio?” he asked, fumbling with his own cup.
“Born and bred,” I replied. “You?”
He nodded, spilling some coffee onto the counter and then jumping back with a surreptitious glance at me, as if afraid I’d reprimand him. “Sorry. I’m a klutz. Oh, um, yeah, I’m from here, too. Powell. My mom’s a bank manager there, and I got a kid sister who’s starting high school who still lives with her. It’s been just the three of us since my dad died. Car accident. I don’t even remember him. Not that you wanted to know all that. Sorry. I babble sometimes.”
He also had a habit of apologizing every other sentence. Hearing about his fatherless state made me feel another bond of kinship with him. Deliberately I took a swig of coffee…and let a little bit dribble out of the side of my mouth.
“Oops!” I said with feigned embarrassment. “Excuse me. I drool sometimes when I drink.”
Another lie, but Timmie smiled, handing me a napkin while the nervousness eased off him. There was nothing like having someone be a bigger goof to boost one’s own self-confidence.
“That’s better than being a klutz. I’m sure a lot of people do that.”
“Oh yeah, there’s a club of us,” I quipped. “Droolers Anonymous. I’m on Step One in my membership. Admitting that I’m powerless over my slobbering and my life has become unmanageable.”
Timmie was in the process of taking another sip when he started to laugh. Coffee came out of his nose as a result, and then his eyes bulged, aghast.
“I’m sorry!” he choked, making it worse by trying to talk. More coffee emerged, spraying me in the face. His eyes bugged in horror, but I laughed so hard at seeing him leak like a thermos with holes that I started to hiccup.
“It’s contagious!” I managed to get out. “There’s no escape from the drool disease once you catch it!”
He laughed again, compounding his problem. I hiccuped, Timmie gasped and sputtered, and both of us looked like mental patients to anyone who would have happened by the still-open door. I ended up handing him the same napkin he’d given me, trying to control my giggles while instinctively knowing I’d found a friend.