Page 19 of When Annika Met Thom

Annika took a bowl and a mug, knife, fork and spoon, then looked a little more.

There were a few cooking utensils—again, she was reminded of starter sets at Ikea—and three pots of various sizes and a skillet in the lower cupboard. A pair of potholders and a small stack of towels resided in the other drawer. She’d already found the dish soap under the sink alongside the trash and recycling bins. There was a kettle on the stove.

Apparently, no one made tea in a teapot. On this night, she’d bought tea at the Thai restaurant, but she might have to pick up a cheap teapot.

One upper cupboard held dry foods and there was a line down the middle of it, made with green painter’s tape. On one side, there were a few boxes of tea, some ramen noodles, canned chickpeas and lentils, a bag of dry oatmeal and some wheat germ. On the upper shelf on that side, there were several packages of dog snacks. She knew the brand was comparatively expensive and Cerberus lifted her head with interest when Annika opened that cupboard door. She gave her one, just because it couldn’t hurt to make friends with a dog of her size.

But the other side of the cupboard was absolutely bare. What did Leo eat? Was it all take-out, all the time? Annika couldn’t imagine him starting the day without his Cheerios for breakfast. Therewasan empty box in the recycling bin, but she didn’t find it reassuring.

Ignoring the fact that her dinner was cooling, Annika opened the fridge. It had a similar line down the middle. On one side, there was yogurt, milk, tofu, half a dozen eggs, a bag of oranges, a box of blueberries, a bag of premium dog food and a big bunch of kale.

There wasn’t a single thing on the other side.

Annika could guess who owned the three bananas on the counter.

Did Leo eat at school instead of at home?

She poured her take-out soup into one of the bowls, well aware of Percival circling around her ankles with enthusiasm. He had poked his nose out of Annika’s bag at the take-out counter in the Thai restaurant, terrifying her that he’d revealed himself. The savory aroma had obviously made him curious. The owner had laughed at the sight of him, then winked at Annika as he packed a piece of poached fish into a tiny container and tucked it into her bag.

She broke it up in Percival’s bowl, mixing it into the cat kibble she’d bought. Cerberus was indifferent, and Annika was glad the big dog had been trained not to expect to share every meal. The dog sighed and began to snore, even as Percival gobbled up his fish.

“You and fish,” she said to him. “How did the guy know it was your favorite?”

Percival was too busy eating to answer.

Annika ate the best khao soi she’d had in a very long time, thinking about what Leo had said—and what he hadn’t said.

Who was the woman who’d answered his phone?

The question was almost enough to put her off the creamy coconut broth, mustard greens, shallots and egg noodles, but not quite. It was delicious, the chicken having absorbed all the spices, and she nearly licked the bowl clean. She’d definitely go back to that restaurant—and not just for the soup.

She kept Percival on his leash as she unpacked the rest of her acquisitions, using Leo’s side of the kitchen spaces. She was looking forward to a hot shower, and began to unpack her own bag. She opened it at one end of the couch, closed the blinds and stripped down to her undies. She took her toiletries and nightgown—and Percival in his travel cage—into the bathroom along with the new litterbox.

It was the same as the kitchen. The medicine cabinet had that line down the middle. There was a razor on one side, deodorant, shaving cream, nail clippers. The other side was bare. One big bottle of shampoo in the shower. One bar of soap—and neither were brands Leo used.

There was no sign of the electric razor Leo used, much less his collection of hair care products. She’s always teased him about his vanity about his hair and it seemed unlikely that med school had prompted him to abandon his collection—and his routines—for a cheap brand of shampoo and one comb.

She would have known that the box of extra large condoms didn’t belong to Leo, even if they hadn’t been on what was obviously Thom’s side of the medicine cabinet.

She looked at that box for a long moment and yearned, then reminded herself that she had no complaints. Technique was more important than size.

Right?

Right.

Still, she sighed when she closed the cabinet door. It had been a long,longtime since Christmas. She set up the litterbox for Percival and put it under the sink, out of the way. He explored it, then retreated to the bath mat. It had long soft tendrils and he was gleefully sliding through them, like a snake in tall grass.

Towels. She needed a towel.

There were two closets in the hall and she opened the wrong door first. The coat closet had an empty hanger, undoubtedly for the jacket Thom was wearing, and a heavy leather jacket that was too big for Leo. There were black leather boots there, too, also in too big of a size for Leo, and a black motorcycle helmet on the shelf. She found a pair of heavy gloves and a watch cap there, too. Both big. Both black. She sensed a theme.

The linen closet was pretty spartan, again with the line. At least on Leo’s side, there were a few towels and to her relief, they looked familiar. Something was his! She was pretty sure she remembered his mom buying this set when he’d come east to school in the first place. She took them into the bathroom and closed the door, keeping Percival on his harness, just in case.

She’s also retrieved one of his rubber balls from her bag, the one with the bell inside, and tossed it onto the bath mat when she returned. It vanished between the chenille tendrils and Percival sat up with interest. He pounced and found it, rolling over with it grasped in his paws. He then tossed it himself to play again. By the time she got in the shower, he was dooking as he played—the clicking sound peculiar to ferrets was a sure sign of joy. She heard him settle down by the time she rinsed the shampoo out of her hair.

There were sheets on Leo’s side of the closet, too, and a pillow and blanket, so she claimed them and made up the couch as well as she could. Annika was sure she’d be able to sleep anywhere after her day, but when she finally turned out the lights and stretched out, her thoughts were churning.

Cerberus was snoring and Percival was quiet, but Annika couldn’t relax. The sky was dark outside the windows but there was too much ambient light to see any stars. There was a steady hum of traffic that she wasn’t used to hearing at night, but it was kind of soothing, even with sirens in the distance. Did cabs honk all night long? That wasn’t why she couldn’t sleep, though, and Annika knew it. Was she worried about Thom, a virtual stranger, returning home and pouncing on her?

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