Page 5 of You Shouldn't Have Come Here

I found Calvin at the stove in the kitchen, cooking up something that wasn’t exactly pleasing to smell—an earthy, meaty, sweet scent. He stirred the pot with a wooden spoon while casually drinking a Bud Light.

“Hey,” I said.

Calvin turned around quickly, startled. A smile crept across his face when he saw me. “Hay is for horses.”

I forced a smile back. “Do you have aBand-Aid?”

He set the spoon down on afolded-uppaper towel. “Of course. What happened?”

I held up my finger, and a drop of blood slithered out of the cut. It hadn’t stopped bleeding. “Battle wound from your cracked window.”

“Oh shoot. Sorry about that.” He disappeared down the hall and reappeared moments later with a small first aid kit. “I meant to fix that. Some of my guests aren’t good guests.”

Calvin pulled out a chair and gestured for me to take a seat. He satkitty-cornerand unpacked his kit, pulling out ointment, cotton balls, rubbing alcohol, and aBand-Aid. This was clearly not his first time tending to an injury.

“That’s a shame about your window,” I said.

“Don’t worry. They paid for it.” He ripped the corner of the packaging with his teeth and pulled out a tiny folded wipe.

“Do your guests usually get rowdy?” I held out my finger. Droplets of blood oozed from the cut and dripped onto the kitchen table. They immediately seeped into the unfinished wood, leaving behind a stain. Calvin didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care. He wiped it up and continued tending to my wound.

“Only the bad ones,” he said, glancing up at me for a brief moment.

I winced when he pressed a soaked cotton ball of rubbing alcohol on the wound. The stinging lasted only a few seconds.

“Is it uncomfortable having strangers stay in your house?” I asked.

Calvin paused, and his eyes met mine. “They’re only strangers at first,” he said with a serious face before finishing up with aBand-Aidwrapped snuggly around my finger.

“There you are. Good as new.” He let on a smile while he collected his things.

“Thanks.”

Calvin retook his place at the stove, slowly stirring the pot.

“By the way, there’s some women’s clothes in the top drawer of my dresser. I just left them there. Thought you should know.”

He froze for a second. It seemed as though his shoulders tensed up, but I couldn’t be sure. Calvin turned back. “That would be my ex, Lisa.” He folded in his lips and went back to stirring the pot.

I chewed on my words, unsure of what to say, but then they all tumbled out. “You know they say an ex will purposefully leave something behind after a breakup just so they have a reason to come back.”

“Well, I hope that’s not the case.”

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because she’s dead,” he said.

I swallowed and broke into a coughing fit. Calvin quickly pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. I understood why he said it in such amatter-of-fact way. That’s what death was. You’re either alive or you’re dead. There is noin-between. He handed the glass to me, and I drank nearly all of it.

“You all right?” he asked, giving me a small pat on the back.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Just swallowed wrong.”

He nodded and returned to the stove.

“I’m sorry about your ex.”

Calvin turned off the burner and took a swig of his beer.

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