We drive the rental car over to the Ford dealership, where my new leased Mustang is waiting for me. It's still an Eco Drive model, but what the hell, at least the color's right. I sign the papers, and we head over to the apartment, where my furniture has already been delivered. Unfortunately, most of it is in boxes. "How'd I end up with the Ikea catalog?"
"I'll get a tool box from the super," April says, dashing off. She comes back a few minutes later while I'm looking at the tied up bundle of boxes that is supposed to become my kitchen table, totally confused already. "How is it?"
"I think the instructions are in French," I say, handing her the one piece of paper I'm able to figure out isn't just a packing list. "I don't know French."
"Thankfully, monsieur, I do," April says with a chuckle. "At least, enough schoolgirl French to help figure this out . . . yeah, these are the instructions. I say we just open the boxes and start sticking stuff together though — it can't be that hard, can it?"
"Okay, why not?" We get to work, and as we quickly find out, it's not quite as easy as we'd hoped. The table goes together just fine, but my TV center is a total pile of flat boards that seem to make no damn sense at all. After an hour, I toss my screwdriver down, frustrated. "All right, fuck this, let's just go buy some cinder blocks and stack the boards in between. Worked for my room at college."
"Don't give up now," April grunts, twisting her screwdriver. "I think I've . . . ouch!"
I step over as she hops around, her hand clenched to her chest and her lip bitten between her teeth hard enough to nearly bleed as she whimpers in pain. "Let me see, let me see."
She hisses, holding out her hand, and she's got a pretty good scratch on the inside of her left hand, blood welling up from where the flat headed screwdriver caught her good. "Damn this hurts!"
I see tears in her eyes, and I take her hand gently in mine, leading her over to the kitchen sink. "Come on, let's get that washed out first," I murmur, giving her a smile. "It's not as bad as it feels, I bet."
The water is cold, and I hold her hand under the flow for a while, until there's no more red flowing from the scratch and my own fingers are numb. Damn, Toronto tap water is cold as hell.
"There," I say, shutting off the water. "It'll be fine. How does it feel now?"
"Numb," April says, wiping away a tear with her free hand. "God, I'm such an idiot."
"You should meet my high school buddy, Fred. He's got a dimple in his right thigh from the same thing, except that he put a Phillips head two inches into the muscle."
I continue, making sure she knows this isn’t necessary. “Let's set this aside, not even worry about the bed except to make sure the mattresses are down, and tomorrow, we'll try again. And I do mean we, after practice or something. That is, unless you have plans.”
“I don’t have plans,” April replies. “This job is pretty much my life.”
I shake my head, strangely pleased. "Well, let me make it up to you. No club this time, you obviously weren't into that, and I can't have another headache like earlier. So let's just do dinner. No alcohol, just food."
"Really?" April asks. She smiles a little. "It sounds like you’re asking me out on a date."
I chuckle and nod. "I guess you can call it that. But let’s set some rules. It’ll be better for both of us."
I've never really had a girlfriend for all that long. I’ve had fuck buddies, no real girlfriends. Not one that I could see myself with for the rest of my life. Besides, I can't open that part of myself again, not after what happened before.
April looks at me a little confused. "I can obey rules, but what kind of rules are we talking about here?”
I can't help it, her eagerness sends a shiver down my spine, and I smile back. "Okay then. Two very simple rules. First, you pick us a nice restaurant. Nothing super black tie, but not casual either. Second, and most important, is that you dress up. Last night you tried, but I think you held yourself back because you just wasn’t sure. Wear that outfit you bought off the internet and thought you’d never wear.”
"I can do that," April says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "But why?"
"Because I want you to see yourself the way the world should see you. Smart, powerful, and pretty. Now, let's get the hell outta here, and get that hand bandaged before our dinner. I've gotta shower and shave myself."
I lock up the door to my new apartment, and April and I head down to my car. "Can I take you back to your apartment?" I ask her as I drive, and she shakes her head. "Oh yeah, your car's at the hotel."
She gives me a little smile, and I can't help but notice again how pretty her face is when she's smiling. "Yeah. Thanks for remembering."
"No problem."
Chapter 6
April
I'm trembling with excitement as I step out of my shower, my hair dripping but I don't mind. My hair is thick and straight and nearly impossible to change from that. Back in school, I almost always just let it air dry on my way to class, it didn't matter. I can run a brush through it after I get dressed, and I'm good to go.