Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,12
teddy bears and a broken baby crib.
Magpie is as much a neat freak in his bathroom as his kitchen, and when I step into a sparkling shower stall, I have my choice of shampoos, conditioners, and scented soaps. I choose the least girly-smelling products, and wince as they come into contact with the cut on my side. I pull off the soaked bandage, and it doesn’t look good. It’s deeper than Magpie led me to believe and it’s starting to bleed again. After I get out of the shower, I see a fresh bandage laid out on top of a dry towel. Magpie—or at least the neat-freak organized part of him—thought of everything. I dry off, put the new bandage on my cut, and tuck the towel around my waist.
Even if I’m forced for the moment to play nice with Magpie and his gun, I know one thing for sure: as soon as I get the hell out of this apartment, I will run and run and never look back.
Jack leads me into an enormous walk-in closet attached to the bathroom. On one side of the room are men’s clothes and shoes. Pressed dress shirts are lined up by color. On the other side of the room are shelves with neatly folded pants and sweaters. A freestanding full length mirror fills one corner. I wonder when Magpie last wore any of these clothes or wore anything besides old underwear and his fancy blue robe.
“Here, Hank. I think this is what Magpie was thinking.” He pulls out a pair of jeans, folded neatly over a hanger. Then he chooses a white collared shirt and a green sweater and hands them both to me. Without making eye contact, he disappears and I hear the shower running.
I put on the clothes, which are a little loose but fit okay, then I brush the last of the dried mud off my sneakers into a wastebasket and put them back on. Standing in front of the mirror, I take in my new look.
And to be honest, I look nice. Kinda preppy for my taste, but it’ll do.
“I knew you’d shine up like a brand new penny.”
I swing around, and see Magpie standing at the door of the closet, smiling at me, friendly and creepy at the same time.
“I’ll probably have to burn these other clothes of yours, but you won’t be needing them anymore.” He holds up a plastic trash bag. When he brought in the bandage, he must have grabbed my clothes from where I’d left them on the floor. Along with my book.
Panic prickles my scalp. “My book—”
Magpie smiles again. “Ah, a youngster after my own heart, a true lover of fine literature. I would never get between a man and his copy of Walden.”
He reaches into the bag and holds out my book. I snatch it out of his hand. “Uh. Thank you,” I say to soften my rudeness.
Magpie cocks his head to the side and chuckles. “I, too, am an avid student of the transcendentalists,” he announces, loving the sound of his own voice. “Thoreau, Emerson, Whitman. Certainly they are the best of your American writers.”
Whatever. Being alone with this guy makes me want to take another hot shower and scrub my skin raw. I’m relieved when Jack finishes his shower and joins us.
After Jack, Nessa, and I are clean and dressed, Magpie lines us up and takes a good look at us.
“All right,” he says. “You know what to do now.” He smiles, and for a moment I think he’s genuinely pleased with all of us. But then his face turns cold and stiff as a mask. “Now the three of you get the hell out of my house. And don’t be so careless again, you stupid little shits.”
He waves a hand at us. Dismissed.
Out on the street, Nessa presses her forehead against Jack’s before they say good-bye. He whispers something to her, and she nods. Her eyes are full of tears. Then she comes over to me. Those big eyes without makeup are so damn pretty, blue like the sky before twilight. I just want to hold her, imagine her heart beating fast against my chest.
“Thanks for saving Jack’s life,” she whispers in my ear. Then she goes up on tiptoe and touches her lips to mine. Not just a peck, but a soft, full-out kiss that she allows to linger. She gives my hand a hard squeeze, and then, as if I’d imagined her all along, she vanishes