Page 99 of Unrivaled Love
Bryson crosses over to the windows and cranks them open as far as they'll go. It's a high rise building with glass all around the outside so the only open window space is the little rectangle at the bottom that opens a few inches.
Safety first.
I turn towards the kitchen and remember exactly what died.
One week ago I had pulled out salmon from my freezer and set it on the counter to defrost for dinner. There is also a frozen bag of kale that was left out from my smoothie that morning. In the sink is the blender and there are white mold spots on the remnants of the unwashed pitcher.
"Gross." Bryson says from behind me and I nod. I reach under the sink for a garbage bag and toss everything in it before tying it off and marching it down the hall to the chute. I try to breathe the fresher air of the hallway before going back in.
When I get back inside Bryson is fanning the air in the room and looking around with his face still half turtled in his shirt.
“Where’s a candle?” He asks as he keeps looking around.
“Why would I have a candle?” I ask as I grab a baking sheet and help him circulate the air. Bryson freezes and looks at me. “What?”
“You don’t have a single candle?” And then he starts really looking around. “Or a throw pillow.” He walks over towards my television and I suddenly see my apartment in his eyes.
This is literally where I sleep, shower, and eat. Except for when I shower at the facility. I haven’t hung anything on the walls. My books are stacked on the floor in the corner. My laptop is plugged in at the counter and the two stools there are mismatched.
There is a skills mat in the corner I use to practice my footwork and a workout bench with a few weights.
The bedroom isn’t much better with a mattress on a frame and no headboard.
Shit.
I didn’t think about bringing Bryson into my apartment and what he’d think about it. I’ve lived here for six years but it looks like I moved in a week ago.
“Okay, so I need to take a trip to the home goods store or whatever. But my apartment is fine.”
Bryson walks over and grabs me by the shoulders.
“No, your apartment is depressing. C’mon.”
He takes my hand and pulls me out the door. “Where are we going?” I ask as I lock the door behind me.
“Larry will be able to help.”
***
“Larry, my man, you nailed it!” Bryson says as he lifts the shopping bag in his hand and fist bumps his new bff, my doorman. When we got downstairs he asked Larry for the closest home goods store or boutique and Larry gave him three to pick from.
Three stores I didn't realize were just blocks from my condo.
And then, Bryson went shopping.
It was a sight to see. I followed him around in awe as he picked out two candles, a candle accessory kit that seemed completely unnecessary, throw pillows, a blanket that I’ll never admit is the softest thing I’ve ever felt, and a potted plant. When I complained about how much stuff he was getting he told me I was lucky it was him and not Felix who discovered the dreary state of my home.
By the time we get upstairs things had aired out and Bryson lights the Rosewood Forest candle. He tosses the pillows on the sofa and then plops down and kicks his feet up on my coffee table.
“There, so much better.” He says and then he crooks his finger at me and I slowly walk over to him.
“Why haven’t you decorated your apartment, Killer?” He asks as I take a seat next to him and tuck my legs under me.
“I didn’t see the reason to.” Boy, this little fuzz on the cushion sure is fascinating.
“You didn’t want to come home to something soothing or at least filled with your favorite things?” Bryson asks as he shifts to face me.
“Never crossed my mind. I wake up, get ready, eat, practice or play, come home, and sleep.” I shrug, it’s the truth. “Why, what's your apartment like?”
