Page 2 of Fish out of Water
I glanced down at the list he’d made. It took up almost the whole page. “This looks pretty involved.”
“You’ll be fine.” Mr. Frazier grabbed my hand and pressed the key to his apartment into my palm. “Promise me you’ll go get the mail first thing tomorrow morning.”
“I guess.” It was one more task to add to a morning routine that already included making sure Mrs. Hill didn’t fall getting out of her bathtub.
“Promise me, Julia.” He squeezed my hands in his, crumpling the paper in the process.
Old people were so dramatic. It was one of the many surprises in store for me when I moved to Sweet Side Bay. “I promise.”
“You’re a good girl.” He offered a little smile before turning serious, the line of his mouth flattening. “Make sure you lock your door when I leave.”
Dramatic and safety conscious.
“It’s always locked.” I followed him to the door. “Have a safe trip.”
He stared at me a second before offering a sharp nod of his silver-haired head and turning to shuffle toward the stairs.
That was weird.
Which was actually pretty normal.
Old people were dramatic, safety-conscious, and weird.
I watched to make sure he didn’t fall down the stairs then closed my door, locking the two deadbolts the place came equipped with. I was probably the youngest person to call it home ever, and it showed in lots of ways. From the locks lined on the door, to the lifted seat on the toilet.
Which I actually ended up liking.
It looked funny but came in handy on days I decided I should be a runner.
Which I’m definitely not.
I twisted Mr. Frazier’s key onto my ring so I wouldn’t risk losing it then peeled off my soaked pants, dropping them on top of the washer as I passed the utility closet in the hall. After picking out a replacement pair covered in bright yellow bananas I went to clean up the mess Mr. Frazier’s late-night visit caused.
I’d grabbed Chinese takeout on my way home from work at the botanical garden just like I did every Friday night, and what was left of my shrimp fried rice was now scattered across the laminate floor. One more reason shag carpets were for influencers and old ladies with nothing but time on their hands. It would take hours to pick grains of rice from something like that, but I had the mess collected with a broom and dustpan in under two minutes, tossing it in the trash on my way to bed, grinning at how my lack of design expertise was paying off.
I stopped in the bathroom to brush away the garlicky haze lingering on my teeth. Maybe it was a good thing Mr. Frazier showed up. Saved me from having garbage mouth in the morning.
It was still surprising something could drag him from his bed so late at night.
I brushed a little slower, staring into the mirror.
What was it he said that he had to leave for?
Didhe say?
I spit out the foam as it started to work down my chin and rinsed off my brush.
I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just a family emergency or something.
I flipped off the light and went to my bedroom, falling into the bed and yanking the covers up to my chin.
It was normal for him to tell me to lock my door. All my neighbors told me random shit like that every day.
Lock your door, Julia.
Don’t wear headphones when you jog, Julia.
Make sure the alligator isn’t following you when you walk around the pond, Julia.
