could. It took almost two full days of hard work to patch the roof. The makeshift repairs ended up blanketing our small home in darkness.
People didn’t realize what small, dark places could do to a person’s mood. My home became a tomb I couldn’t escape.
The bed in my new room was easily king-sized, much bigger than the twin cot I slept on back home. Deep purple bedding littered with gold, geometrical lines covered the plush mattress, making it look cozy. White nightstands were posted at both ends of the massive bed, with bright lamps perched on top of them. By the window was a cozy leather loveseat with purple throw pillows tossed decoratively along it. A desk with a brand new MacBook sat in the corner, the screen saver already boasting my name. The artwork on the walls was thoughtfully laid out, with more geometric patterns scattered tastefully around the space. I never really gave much thought to the type of bedroom I wanted, but if I had to imagine a perfect place, this would be it.
“This is for me?” I asked in shock while walking inside. My mouth dropped open as I gaped at the room. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I agreed to move here, maybe a futon in a spare bedroom or an air mattress. But never this. Decker followed after me, clutching my worn backpack to his chest as Lance stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a pleased look on his face.
“Do you like it?” my brother asked.
“It’s incredible. You didn’t have to do all of this,” I replied before pausing at one of the pieces of art above my new desk. The canvas was black and had gold lines formed into a pyramid in the center.
“It’s important to me that you’re comfortable here,” Lance replied in a calm tone. I tried not to get too excited by his thoughtful gesture. If there was anything life had taught me, it was not to let kindness blur your realities. Maybe it was ridiculous to let a jaded past haunt a potentially good future, but I couldn’t just let go of my incessant need to overthink things. My entire life was spent looking over my shoulder or waiting for the bomb to drop. I was conditioned to look for the worst case scenario, because it was easier than getting my hopes up and then being let down.
Decker moved over to my bed with stoic strides, keeping his eyes on me as I took in the room. I was about to ask him if he helped with the design when he intrusively unzipped my backpack and dumped everything I owned on the mattress. He didn’t even give me time to stop him.
“Oh, I can unpack!” I rushed over to him. “You don’t have to help me.” I brushed his arm as I tried to shove everything back into my bag. He grabbed my wrist for a split second, and we both paused to stare at one another. “If you wanted to check for contraband, Mr. Harris, you could have just asked,” I replied in a curt tone before snapping my hand back.
Lance clapped his hands and laughed like I was being funny, but I wasn’t trying to be.
“I was just trying to help,” he replied, though I saw his eyes take in all my belongings. We had a slight standoff before he finally opened the bag back up for me. Shoving my clothes back inside of it, I felt my cheeks fume as I silently thanked whatever god was up there that I hadn’t packed tampons or anything embarrassing.
A hush fell over the room as I took the backpack from Decker’s hands and zipped it shut. They saw the depressing truth: I didn’t really have much. I was pissed that he took my pathetic possessions and put them on display. Something told me Decker purposely emptied my bag, and once again I felt like a question he needed answered. Despite just meeting, he seemed determined to do whatever it took to figure me out, privacy be damned.
“Is that all you brought?” Lance asked as my fingers grazed over a photo of Mama that I purposely left out of my bag. I nodded in answer, then quickly flipped the worn picture over so I wouldn’t have to see her smiling face beaming up at me. I’d only looked at the photo a handful of times. It hurt too much to really sink into the image, so