“Oh, that goes down to the basement. It’s off-limits. You don’t want to go down there anyway. It’s unfinished so it’s just a bunch of spiders and old stuff and a heavy odor of mildew.” I quickly beckoned her with my hand, “Right this way.”
When I didn’t hear her move, I turned back. She was stopped in front of the door, staring at it. I knew then she wanted to see what was on the other side. When you told someone they couldn’t do something, it always made them want to do it. Curiosity always got the best of us, hence why I added the padlock. Grace must have felt my eyes on her because she snapped her head in my direction and gave a smile that seemed to quiver.
“Shall we?” she said in a high-pitched voice. I found her change in tone a bit odd but then again I was just getting to know her—so everything was odd.
Back in the kitchen, I pulled open the sliding door to a large wooden deck I had installed last summer. It was a nice sitting area with several outdoor couches, chairs, and end tables. Two grills stood next to each other near the railing, a gas and a charcoal.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, taking in the view.
It was the perfect backdrop of what Wyoming had to offer. A pasture with sheep and cows, the river cutting across the back forming the edge of the property line, thick pine woods jutting up just beyond the banks of the river, and the mountains in the distance, towering over the entire scene. It was about the only thing I liked about being back in Wyoming. There ain’t much to do. There ain’t many people my age. But it is beautiful. I’ll give it that.
“It really is,” I said, looking over at Grace. She glanced at me, smiled again, and drank the rest of her beer in one swig. I was about to ask her why she picked Dubois, Wyoming, but she spoke first.
“I’m going to finish unpacking.” She turned on her foot and headed toward the sliding door.
“Let me know if you need any help.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.” Her voice was flirty, or at least I thought it was. She disappeared inside without another word. I felt my cheeks flush. There was just something about Grace, something different. But I wasn’t ready to chase after another girl. It was too soon.
3.
Grace
A set of mismatched wire hangers clanged against one another as I hung up my clothes in the closet. I lined up an array of shoes on the floor in front of the window. Pulling open the top drawer of the dresser, I found several pairs of women’s underwear and a sports bra. They were nice brands: Lululemon and SKIMS. Odd. I held up a pair of thong underwear, size small. A previous guest must have left these behind, or perhaps Calvin had a girlfriend. I dropped them back in the drawer and closed it. The next one down was empty, so I filled it with my undergarments, swimsuits, and shorts.
Bringing my stack of books to the desk, I lined them up all on end in the order I planned on reading them. I’m a speed-reader and expected I could finish all five of them before my time was up here.
I planned to start with a light beach read that would be quick and easy to devour. I liked those because they were mindless. After that, I wanted something sad, and this one was guaranteed to make me cry—or so a blurb on the cover said. I figured I should have something that I could learn from as well, so I brought along a self-help book about habits. I had several bad habits that I knew I needed to break and plenty of good ones that I should instill further. Habits ensured one wouldn’t make mistakes. The horror novel I brought promised I’d be frightened, but I’d be the judge of that. It took a lot to scare me. Finally, a thriller. This one promised a twisty ending I wouldn’t see coming. It seemed every thriller promised that these days, but few actually delivered.
After unpacking my makeup, hairstyling tools, and toiletries, I glanced out the bay window above the long dresser. A large crack ran from the lower left corner all the way to the center. I traced it with my finger. The lip of the fractured glass sliced through my skin. Ouch. I brought the wound to my mouth and sucked on it. The pain dissipated quickly. A streak of blood was left behind, stretching a few inches across the glass, causing the landscape beyond it to appear cracked and tinted red. It reminded me of how I saw the city. I had traveled so far to see the world in a different light, but it somehow always looked the same. The sun fell behind the mountains, leaving darkness behind. I had forgotten about the dark. You don’t really have that in the city—too many lights.
Remembering I had promised to text when I arrived, I slid my phone from my pocket. In the upper right-hand corner were the words No Service. I felt a twinge in the pit of my stomach and swallowed hard. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing.
I found Calvin at the stove in the kitchen, cooking up something that wasn’t exactly pleasing to smell—an earthy, meaty, sweet scent. He stirred the pot with a wooden spoon while casually drinking a Bud Light.
“Hey,” I said.
Calvin turned around quickly, startled. A smile crept across his face when he saw me. “Hay is for horses.”
I forced a smile back. “Do you have a Band-Aid?”
He set the spoon down on a folded-up paper towel. “Of course. What happened?”
I held up my finger, and a drop of blood slithered out of the cut. It hadn’t stopped bleeding. “Battle wound from your cracked window.”
“Oh shoot. Sorry about that.” He disappeared down the hall and reappeared moments later with a small first aid kit. “I meant to fix that. Some of my guests aren’t good guests.”
Calvin pulled out a chair and gestured for me to take a seat. He sat kitty-corner and unpacked his kit, pulling out ointment, cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and a Band-Aid. This was clearly not his first time tending to an injury.
“That’s a shame about your window,” I said.
“Don’t worry. They paid for it.” He ripped the corner of the packaging with his teeth and pulled out a tiny folded wipe.
“Do your guests usually get rowdy?” I held out my finger. Droplets of blood oozed from the cut and dripped onto the kitchen table. They immediately seeped into the unfinished wood, leaving behind a stain. Calvin didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care. He wiped it up and continued tending to my wound.
“Only the bad ones,” he said, glancing up at me for a brief moment.
I winced when he pressed a soaked cotton ball of rubbing alcohol on the wound. The stinging lasted only a few seconds.
“Is it uncomfortable having strangers stay in your house?” I asked.
Calvin paused, and his eyes met mine. “They’re only strangers at first,” he said with a serious face before finishing up with a Band-Aid wrapped snuggly around my finger.
“There you are. Good as new.” He let on a smile while he collected his things.
“Thanks.”
Calvin retook his place at the stove, slowly stirring the pot.
“By the way, there’s some women’s clothes in the top drawer of my dresser. I just left them there. Thought you should know.”