Page 118 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Sorry, bad reception. Stay at the house. My attorney will inform Malcolm.
Don't give into them!
I respond:
That’s sooooo awkward. I don’t want to get in the middle of this.
She doesn’t respond.
Fan-tastic.
This is what things have come to with Mom and Malcolm? I’m supposed to just move in—uninvited—with the ex-stepbrother I can’t stand?
No, thank you.
Even though we did have a moment yesterday. Well, sort of.
I had no idea Archie didn’t think of himself as a real actor. He’s always seemedveeeeeryconfident in who he is. I’ve never heard him give Malcolm credit for his career and fame. But yesterday, Archie actually seemed…I don’t know…vulnerable,maybe? Still not quite aware of how good he has it, but with a few more baby steps, he could be.
I might suggest cleaning up after himself as the first baby step.
When I walk into the amazing chef’s kitchen that I cleaned meticulously before climbing into bed last night, traces of Archie are everywhere. The fancy espresso machine is spotted with milk. Drops of coffee are splattered on the counter. An open carton of milk is on the white stone counter. The slightly ajar fridge door is beeping angrily.
I sigh and set my supplies on the kitchen table. I’m not sure where Archie went after showing me to Frankie’s room last night, but he was gone when I came downstairs later. I spent nearly an hour washing the dirty dishes he’d left in the sink and around the kitchen, including the blender caked with dried kale and a plate with cheese stuck to it—so gross. I also wiped up the almond milk he’d spilled, and the kale leaves that didn’t make it into his smoothie.
I had planned on Doordashing something for dinner, but I discovered the fridge stocked with organic meals from some kind of food service. The Mediterranean salmon dish looked especially delicious with a best by date of today. Rather than wasting good food and ordering in, I heated the salmon for myself, cleaned up my own—minimal—mess, and then went to bed where I slept like a baby.
I doubt Hurricane Archie will notice the meal is gone, but I’ll Venmo him once I see him.
If I really wanted to find him, all I’d have to do is follow his path of destruction. He mentioned housekeepers yesterday, but I wonder how often they come. Not daily, that’s for sure.
I could wait for them to show up to pamper the poor little rich boy. Instead, I find a dishcloth and wipe down the espresso machine. Archie’s letting me stay for the weekend. I’ve helpedmyself to his food. The least I can do is keep things clean. And, honestly, after two years in a tiny Greenwich kitchen, and two in the dorms at Parsons before that, cleaning a high-end kitchen like this is very satisfying. A space this beautiful needs to sparkle.
I’ve almost accomplished my goal when Archie startles me with a, “Hey.”
I gasp and turn to face him, then have to hold back a second gasp. Does Archie own any shirts? How many more times am I going to have to pretend not to be distracted by his bare chest and six-pack?
Or is it an eight pack?
I force myself not to count. “Uh, hi. Do you want some breakfast? I’ll make some eggs, if you don’t mind me bumming food off you until I can get to the grocery store.”
“Sure. Help yourself.” Archie’s gaze bounces around the room, hitting everything but me. "I’m not sure what we’ve got in the fridge. I've only been back since yesterday morning."
“Well, you've got a lot to choose from.” I open the fridge wide to let him see the stocked shelves. “I owe you for one of the dinners I helped myself to last night.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” He glances into the fridge, then raises a shoulder in a shrug. “I guess I forgot to cancel the meal service when we were gone. Housekeeper must have put it away.”
“Yeah. That makes sense,” I say, even though it doesn't. Who forgets to cancel food being delivered? That’s like throwing money in the garbage. “Do you think your housekeeping service might have been canceled? Mom said that the utilities and taxes and things were paid up for a year, but she didn’t know about the cleaning service.”
“No clue,” he says with a shrug and a bit of a dazed look. I guess if he didn’t know he was supposed to sign over the deed tothe house, he probably hasn’t been told about anything else to do with the house.
“No worries. I’m happy to help out while I’m here.”
Archie looks around for the first time, noticing—or maybe, wondering—who's cleaned up after him. “Cheers. Yeah, that'd be great. The two of us won’t make much mess.”
One of us won’t anyway,I think to myself before I take out the organic carton of eggs and the milk, then find a bowl. “Scrambled eggs okay? With some toast?” That’s about the extent of what I know how to cook without step-by-step directions.
Archie nods and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants before wandering to the table.
