Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” I tried awkwardly.
He shook his head as if it didn’t matter. He pulled the towel off, revealing himself again, and walked to the dresser. Inside, he found a clean pair of boxers and an oversized T-shirt. Climbing into the shorts, he handed the shirt to me. I thanked him with a smile, understanding instantly what it meant: he wanted me to spend the night.
I dressed in the impromptu nightshirt and sat down on the bed. “Where are we gonna eat?”
“Here.” He opened the closet to reveal a small dorm fridge and pulled out three bananas and a jar of almonds from the depths. Porter continued to unpack until a feast of nibbles lay on the sheets beside me. He pulled out two bottled waters and handed one over. “We’ve got fruit and nuts, crackers, and I’ve got a package of muffins.”
“It looks delicious,” I said happily.
It was funny what passed for food in different people’s houses. At my own apartment, I had a refrigerator dedicated to vegetables and leftovers. I preferred to cook for myself, though I didn’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen. My favorite dish was angel hair pasta with spaghetti sauce, but that was a treat, so I didn’t have it often. Porter, I could see, was unaccustomed to stocking his apartment with food. Understandably, he didn’t want to venture back out to the common area or store his own dinner in the common fridge. We sat munching on his stash of healthy foods, until my belly was full, and my soul revived.
“What do you do for fun here?” I asked, just to make conversation.
“Nothing.” He shifted, picking up an almond. “I used to get high or drunk and go around looking for trouble. Now… I just work.”
“You don’t have a TV,” I observed. “Do you have a phone or a computer?”
“I have a phone,” he said, “I finally got minutes added, so I can surf the web. But I can’t stream anything.”
“Sounds boring.”
“I suppose I could invite a girl over,” he teased.
“That might make things more interesting,” I admitted.
“It would have to be the right girl.” He hesitated. “Because I wouldn’t want someone who was all into a guy’s car and his job and everything.”
“That type of girl might want a mansion,” I replied, stealing a nut from his pile.
“Hey.” He circled his stash protectively. “Stay on your side of the banquet table.”
I couldn’t remember a more relaxed evening in my whole life. It seemed like I spent so much time working toward the next big thing. When I was in college, I was hell-bent on graduation; then it was getting a job; then being the best nurse I could be. I didn’t think I had ever stopped to just appreciate where I was. It was so comfortable in Porter’s room, just the two of us, joking like old friends. We finished our dinner, and he cleaned up.
Afterward, we lay down on the bed side by side, staring up at the ceiling. A week ago, I didn’t know I could be so happy. With almost no possessions and a single room, Porter was showing me a world of riches beyond material things. Pretending to be king and queen of his miniature castle, we drifted off, curled against one another.
23
PORTER
Iwas worried. There was no escaping the narrative that was playing out in my head. This brother of Gina’s, whoever he was, I knew him, because I’d been him. He was strung out, traumatized. He had gotten himself into something nasty that couldn’t be solved, and he was reaching out to his family as a last resort. I knew him so well because he had been me not that long ago.
It also now made perfect sense why Mr. Matthews was so patient with me. He probably looked at me and saw his son. He clearly wasn’t able to help his son, so he tried his damndest to help me.
It was surprising how much most addicts had in common. I had been a dick to all the people in my life, letting my own illness get the better of me. It wasn’t enough that Mike cared or that he had been to prison to protect me. I had thought I deserved it, that I was more important than my best friend. It was eating a hole in my stomach, threatening to lead me back to drink, this guilt over my own pigheadedness.
I wanted to tell Gina, to explain to her that she couldn’t dismiss the threat her brother posed so easily. He wouldn’t care that they had grown up in the same house, or that she had a life of her own. Like a drowning man, he would flail about, desperate to bring down anyone he thought might save him. I could see it so plainly, without even knowing the facts. It’s what I would have done, and that’s what made me nervous.