Page 22 of Time for You
Henry looked befuddled. “A shower?”
“Yeah. You can use ours.”
“We could wait on Vibol. He could teach him,” Daphne suggested.
“First of all, Vibol has worse bedside manner than any of us, so no, he probably shouldn’t be in charge of teaching a man from the past how to shower. Second of all, we’re stealing the man’s clothes and he has to get to work, so it’s really up to us to teach him.”
“Still waiting to learn what precisely you’re supposed to teach me how to do.”
“Take a bath. But standing up,” Daphne said.
“I think I can manage that on my own.”
“You really can’t,” Daphne retorted.
“I beg your pardon, I have been bathing myself—”
“Okay, I’m going to shut this down before you two work yourselves into a bickering frenzy,” Ellie said. “Henry, I’ll talk you through the basics, and Daphne will go buy you the rest of the clothes you’ll need.”
“The rest?” Daphne asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Well, I’m sure as hell not loaning him my underwear,” Vibol said, walking back in. “Here’s what I could find. Should work for a day or two. Good luck with”—he made a circular motion in the air at Henry—“all this. I’ll check in on you guys when I’m off shift tomorrow.”
Vibol shut the door behind him, and Daphne tried to get out of her assigned job. “He doesn’t need underwear.”
“He really does, though. And I have to go to the food pantry for my volunteer shift this afternoon, so we’d better get going. Henry, you know your measurements?”
“I do,” he said, although the hint of a blush had shown up with the first mention of underwear and hadn’t fully faded yet.
“Great, give them to Daph, and I’ll talk you through the basics of plumbing. Daph, why don’t you get him at least another outfit or two, since this isn’t going to be fixed by tomorrow no matter what.”
Daphne got home half an hour later with a crinkly white-and-red plastic bag containing several pairs of pants, long-sleeved shirts, and the cheapest pack of boxer briefs she could find. She had googled “1885 men’s underwear” while standing in the aisle, feeling like a pervert, and figured boxer briefs looked the most similar to what he was used to—assuming she hadn’t stumbled onto like, fetish sites. At the last minute she’d grabbed him a hoodie too, since it was still chilly.
“He’s been in there awhile,” Ellie warned her. “I checked a few minutes ago, and he said he was fine, just ‘marveling at the technological prowess’ of our century.”
“The hell does that mean?”
“I think it means he’s impressed by unlimited hot water. Anyway, you’ll have to convince him to get out eventually.”
“How?”
“That’s your problem; I already had to explain hot water heaters to him. I’ve gotta run, though. And Daph?”
“Yeah?”
“Be nice. He’s not a dick, he’s just really disoriented.”
Daphne didn’t feel like that was entirely fair, since she’d been perfectly pleasant to Henry most of the morning. But without the buffer of everyone else, she had felt her hackles rising even before she’d left on her errand, so maybe Ellie had a point. Daphne mentally chantedbe nice, be nice, be niceas she approached the bathroom. She knocked but got no response. “Henry? It’s Daphne. Are you okay?” she asked the door.
The water shut off, and she heard the curtain rings drag along the shower rod. “Henry?” she called again.
“What do you need, Miss Griffin?” he called.
“I have your clothes.” She could feel his hesitation, and she sighed. “Remember, I am a medical professional.”
“One moment,” he replied, and she heard rustling before the doorknob twisted.
Daphne stepped back just as the door opened, and—well. Henry stood in the door with a towel tied around his waist, wisps of steam curling out from behind him. Apparently, they had gyms in 1885? Or weight lifting. Or else he was just very, very lucky in the genetics department, because his body was what she could only callwell formed. Whereas Daphne had gotten the distinct impression that Anders waxed his chest, that was obviously not something men did in 1885, and Daphne suddenly had a newfound appreciation for history.
