Hillwood, July 2009
Thaddeus Gammelthorpe accepted your friend request.
Rhonda sucked in a huge amount of air as her hand hovered over her Macbook's keyboard. She was so sure he'd just ignore it. Should she post something on his wall? Poke him? Sending him the present was her version of a Hail Mary pass. Out of sheer desperation, she had finally contacted him. It was a little overboard to give him an expensive gift but maybe he would understand the sentiment behind it. Graduation. The future.
Put your best foot forward.
Run to me…
She was beginning to sound delusional. She sighed, close to clicking the tab away.
But what did she want? Closure? Acknowledgment? She wasn't so sure.
Lately, though, she's had an overwhelming urge to see him. To talk to him and find out what happened. Get close. It was so stupid but the thought made her feel giddy and high. What would it be like to capture what they had in Rome? Could they re-create the magic? Since romance didn't work for them, why not friendship? They were good at that. Nobody had ever understood her so well. Even her flaws. He knew they existed, sure, but he understood it was a part of her. Something to work on. He knew why she was the way she was. And she understood him as well. She even predicted the fallout.
Her index tapped against the laptop's palmrest.
This was such a risk.
All she was sure of, deep in her heart, was that she wanted to see him again. Maybe this time, she would. She smiled as she clicked on his profile. What have you been up to, Curly?
…
It had been a miserable week in Hillwood. All day it rained and downtown was flooded preventing any opportunities to go out. On Saturday night, she's decided she's had it. After telling her parents she was going for a ride, she swiped the keys of her father's Camaro and cruised. It had started to pour again so she turned on the wipers. The water dripped down the sides of her car and she slowed down just to be safe. It was so relaxing just listening to the pitter-patter of the rain against the car roof. There weren't many people about due to the weather and the late hour.
The rain brought the cold with it. At least one good thing came out of this dreary weather, she got to wear her cute winter gear– a grey cashmere sweater, black leather jacket, and khaki-coloured skinny pants. She topped it off with her waterproof boots and a swipe of lip gloss. It was probably too extravagant for an outing to the supermarket, but why not?
Rhonda parked the car in front of the 24-hour store, a branch by one of those big chains. She grabbed the black umbrella her father kept in the glove box. The rain and the wind had gotten stronger. Water whipped against her face at such high speeds that it stung. She spat out the rain in her mouth.
"Dear God."
She ran across the parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief once she was in the store. The white fluorescent light momentarily blinded her and the air-conditioning unit blasted cold air at her moist skin. It was freezing. Her teeth were chattering by the time she was in the dairy section. She made a quick sweep of the big tubs of Yoplait–vanilla, cherry cheesecake, lemon meringue, Boston creme pie before she dumped them in a basket. The sooner she got out of there, the better. As she passed through the aisles, her black umbrella left a trail of slippery sheen on the tile floor.
The only other person at the store was the cashier. A teenager with long, dark shaggy hair. Tall and lanky, looking either extremely bored or sleepy. He perked up once he saw her coming towards him. He had great, high cheekbones and a mouth that was made for pouting.
"Hey," he greeted. "Good evening."
"Good evening. Just these," she said, setting the basket down.
The teenager smiled at her. It was slightly askew but instead of looking wrong it added character to his face. In about five years, women would flock him, Rhonda thought, seeing the potential. He reminded her of someone.
"How are you this evening, miss?" he asked.
Miss? What teenager talks like that?
"Uh, fine, I guess," she answered uncertainly. "Are you the only one here?"
He nodded. She was suddenly concerned for him. Being a cashier on the night shift was dangerous. Most robberies happened at this hour. Even though Hillwood was fairly safe, it was still risky to leave a teenager in charge of a shop at this time. What was the manager thinking?
"Aren't you scared?"
"Me? Pssh, no," he replied, scanning the products.
"It's kind of dangerous to be the only one here at night."
He winked. "Someone has to do it."
Oh boy. This teenager was trouble. One that she would have dated back in high school.
"You're really cute," she said. Maybe boosting a kid's self-esteem was the least she could do.
"Oh yeah?"
"But you're also really young. What are you, sixteen?"
He pouted. Rhonda noted he looked adorable, like a lost puppy. "I turned seventeen last month."
"That must have been one heck of a party. You're still underage though."
He stopped scanning and peered at her. "How old are you?"
"Guess."
"Uh, twenty-five."
This kid thought she was twenty-five? Did she look that old? Or was it the way she talked to him? She had been kind of condescending.
She shook her head. "I'm twenty-two."
He grinned. "Cool." He had bagged her groceries. She handed him her card and was about to leave when he asked, "Hey, do you want to…? I don't know, go out sometime?"
She laughed. "I don't want to get charged for statutory, so no. I'm gonna take a pass."
The boy ran a hand through his hair and shot her a saucy smile. "It's not like anyone has to know."
"My advice would be to ask out someone your own age. You may be surprised."
"Or disappointed," he muttered under his breath.
She set down her plastic bag on the counter. "Why's that?"
For a moment, he hesitated then figuring out he had nothing to lose by telling a stranger, he shrugged his broad shoulders. "I'm not exactly at the top of the popularity food chain in my high school."
Rhonda snorted. "The food chain's bullshit. Trust someone who was at the top for four years. You're gorgeous even if they haven't noticed yet. If you like a girl, just ask her out. Simple as that. She'll most likely say yes."
The boy narrowed his gaze. "You were popular?"
"Is that so hard to believe?" Rhonda asked flatly.
"No. It's the natural conclusion after looking at a bombshell like you. I'm just trying to place you."
His compliment earned him another laugh from her. She was flattered even though he was just a kid.
"D'you go to Hillwood High?"
"Yeah."
Rhonda flashed her cool girl smile. "I'm Rhonda Lloyd."
Teenage boy's eyes widened to the point that they were close to popping out of his head. His jaw went slack then he let out some sort of celebratory yelp. "Dude! You're a legend! I mean, they still talk about you. You're like one of the coolest alumni we have. There's like a ton of photos of you in a cheerleading uniform on the display cabinets."
She shrugged. High school seemed like a lifetime away. Plus, those photos on display seemed kind of pervy. Who authorised that? She knew she didn't.
"It's been nice meeting you. Remember my pro-tip," she said, tapping a finger on the side of her temple.
He nodded enthusiastically. She was glad she still had this effect on people.
"Oh, and do something about that hair. If you get a decent haircut, the girls will pay attention. Trust me."
He smiled at her. "Thanks."
"No problem."
The boy glanced down before meeting her eyes and blushed. "You're really cool."
"Don't sweat it," she winked. "See ya and stay safe."
Rhonda didn't notice how the lovelorn adolescent watched her through the shop glass window as she braved the rain to reach her car.
"Why can't all girls be like her?" he sighed and then went back to reading the new Deadpool.
…
It was an embarrassing accident. She'd always been a careful driver but somehow, either it was the rain or the dark, she didn't notice the massive pothole until her engine had slurped the flood water. Her car made a horrible gurgling sound.
"Oh, fuck," she mumbled, hitting the steering wheel with her palms.
The Camaro had halted in front of a row of townhouses. Brick walls with tiny windows. They looked identical in the night. Phoebe used to live in this neighbourhood, she remembered. Rhonda's old house was near here too. She glanced at the plastic bag of yogurt with disdain.
"Stupid."
Maybe if she took a chance starting the engine again. Nothing. Dead. Her father was going to kill her. He loved this old car.
Fat droplets hit her as soon as she opened the door. She was soaked in seconds. The cold seeped into her bones. It was hard to see as the water hit her eyes. She pressed a hand to her forehead to shield them. What was she thinking? If she opened up the hood, it'll get wet, and she didn't know a thing about cars.
Think, Rhonda, think.
"Hey, are you alright?"
She turned to the source of the voice. There was a tall dark figure a short distance from her. It was hard to make out a face under the dim streetlights.
"Uh, I'm fine. My car, it's not starting…"
What was she doing, giving him information like that? Fear was starting to creep in. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and blood pounded in her ears. She could outrun this man, can't she? She could call for help. It's a residential area. Someone would respond. She was getting ready to bolt when he called out her name.
"Rhonda?"
That voice was familiar. Her eyes squinted. The man came closer. His face came to light and she inhaled the crisp air. She let her hand drop and the rain immediately coated her lashes. It stung her eyes.
"Curly?"
Even with the heavy downpour drowning out almost everything, she heard him sigh. "Yeah. It's Thaddeus," he corrected. "Rhonda, what are you doing here?
It couldn't be. He was supposed to be in Chicago. What was he doing here? But there he was, holding an umbrella, wide eyes peering through his black-rimmed glasses, floppy hair that hadn't been cut sticking out of his head. He was more built than the last time she saw him, wider. His arms bulged through his brown t-shirt. The hem of his jeans had been stained dark by the mud.
"M-my c-c-car. It won't start."
He stared at her. She realised that she was shaking. Awesome, now she might catch hypothermia. This night was just getting better and better.
"You're cold," he said, coming closer with his umbrella. She instantly felt warmer. Thaddeus was looking down at her with those glowing mocha eyes. He was close enough that she could see his thick lashes. Every breath he took created a fog of smoke. She focused on his the flecks of gold in her eyes.
"My car broke down. I didn't see the pothole. It must have sucked in water."
"Did you try to start the car again?"
"Yeah."
"Shouldn't have done that. Your car's toast now."
"It's actually my dad's."
This is surreal.
She could help the joy spreading through her. They were talking again, like it was normal. Like the past three years didn't happen.
"He's not going to be happy."
"Oh, I know."
His eyes were still on her. She regained her senses. They haven't truly talked in years. This was a different person than the one she knew before. This Thaddeus seemed more lethal. Dangerous. No nonsense.
"I'll call a cab. I'll have the car towed tomorrow," she said.
He didn't reply immediately. He had a slight familiar frown, one that he wore when he was considering things.
"It's past midnight and it's raining buckets. I doubt anyone wants to drive you up to the mountains. It's going to take at least forty minutes in this weather."
"Then what do you suppose I do?" she asked.
"Come inside."
"What?"
He pointed at one of the flats. "My house. Or rather, my parents' house."
"It's fine. I don't want to imp–"
"It won't be any trouble. Come on, you're freezing."
She glanced down at her hands. Her nails were turning blue. The wind had picked up again. She shivered and he sidled up closer to her.
"Wait, I need to get my things."
Rhonda opened the car and grabbed the yogurt and her wallet. Upon seeing what's in her bag, his brows shot up.
"This is why you're out at night?"
She glared at him. "Let's just get inside like you said."
"Whatever."
They walked up his steps and stopped in front of a white front door. He pulled out his keys and she took the umbrella from his hands.
"Didn't know you live here," she said.
"Yeah, we moved after high school," he replied.
The door opened with a click. She walked in ahead of him, her steps echoing against the dark hardwood floors. Soft, yellow light illuminated a small but well-decorated living room. It was so nice to be toasty again. Rhonda deliberately stayed off the carpet, conscious of the fact that she dripped wherever she went.
"Thaddeus! Is that you?" a voice came from a room down the hall.
"Yeah," he yelled back. "It's me, ma. I have someone with me."
"Who is it?" the voice asked. Then a head popped out of one of the doors. It was a woman with thick dark hair and red-rimmed glasses. There was a delicateness to her bone structure. She was a petite lady, the kind that Rhonda envied, having been the giant in every class she was in since the fourth grade. The woman had flawless olive skin and recognisable wide eyes with laugh lines, so similar to her son's. It widened with alarm when it landed on her.
"Oh, hello!"
Rhonda gave a small smile back and raised her hand in greeting. "Hi."
Thaddeus' mother came out of the room. She was wearing a thick maroon robe cinched and tied at the waist.
"This is Rhonda. Rhonda, this is my mom, Allegra."
Allegra gave her son a pat on the arm. "Of course, I know who this is. Good evening, Rhonda." She shot her son a knowing smile and if Rhonda wasn't imagining it, she could have sworn she saw him blush. But he grabbed her bag of yogurt and rushed through the door his mother came out of.
"I'll put this in the fridge!" Rhonda heard him yell out.
The older woman smiled at her. She walked over to where Rhonda was standing. Then leaned in, as if she was going to share a secret.
"We've met before. At your high school, you remember? My son won 1st place that day."
Rhonda noticed the hint of pride in her voice. She remembered. Allegra was talking about the track meet a few years back when Hillwood High won. For relay and sprint. "Yes, of course. How could I forget? That event was what everyone talked about for days."
Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, just 16, had set a district record for 400-metre sprint. It was the first time their school had placed. It even got the attention of the local paper. The scrawny sophomore was suddenly noticeable. By the end of the week, his name was on people's lips.
"Would it be alright if I use your phone? I left my cell phone at home. I'm actually here because my car broke down just outside your house."
Rhonda pointed her father's Camaro through the window. Curly's mother leaned towards the glass to get a closer look.
She squinted and said, "What a strange coincidence."
Then she stepped back, tilting her head towards the living room.
"Telephone, yes, of course. It's right by the tv." Allegra's mocha eyes inspected her. "Oh dear, you're wet."
"It's fine," Rhonda tried to reassure her. "Mrs. Gammelthorpe."
"Allegra will do. You must be cold. I'll get some clothes for you while you make your phone call."
"It's really fine…" the words died on her lips as Allegra disappeared upstairs. She was surprisingly quick for such a short woman.
The Gammelthorpes' living room was painted sunny yellow while the couches were deep blue. The tables, the chairs, the vases were all white. She immediately loved the coziness of the space. Their house phone did sit on a side table near the tv. With trembling hands, it was still bloody freezing, she quickly punched in the number. The phone rang for a while.
"Lloyd residence, Langley speaking," an old, rusty voice answered.
"Hey, Langley."
"Miss Rhonda?" their butler guessed.
"Yeah, it's me. Listen, long story short, I went out to buy something. I took dad's Camaro. And the flood's worse here than I thought. His car broke down after I sunk it in a pothole."
She glanced around the room and saw Thaddeus' diploma on the wall. "I'm still in town. I'm staying at a friend's house."
"Would you like me to send someone for you?"
Allegra entered the living room with a set of pyjamas and a towel. "You can spend the night here," she softly mouthed. Rhonda smiled and nodded.
"Thank you," she said while placing a hand on the phone's speaker.
The older woman waved her hand as if to say it was no big deal before setting the clothes down on the sofa and disappearing again.
"In the morning. It's quite late and I'm fine. I don't want to trouble anyone so I'm going to just spend the night here. If you can call for a tow truck to get daddy's car tomorrow, that'll be great… And let me break the news to him, he's not going to be happy about this."
She gave Langley the address.
"I see, madam. Well, good night and be safe."
"Thank you, Langley. Have a good night as well."
Rhonda hung up the phone and collected the clothes. There were voices down the hall. She followed the sound and ended up at the archway entrance of a huge rustic kitchen. Thaddeus was in front of a counter speaking in rapid Italian to his mother. Allegra sat by a small breakfast table, nodding. Then, she said something that made him quiet.
"Hey," Rhonda greeted, warning them of her arrival.
Mother and son both looked up. Allegra gave her a warm smile, Thaddeus, not so much. She started to stand up.
"Thanks for the clothes. I just called home. I told them I'll be back in the morning."
Unsure of herself, she leaned against the archway to seem more relaxed. Even if Thaddeus was suddenly being cold, at least his mother liked her.
"No problem, dear. You can have a warm bath upstairs. Come down after and join me for some hot cocoa to warm your bones. Thaddeus is making some."
Only then did she noticed there was a pot of hot chocolate on the stove. Thaddeus stirred it as he added more milk. He was avoiding looking at her.
"You can have some if you want," he said, shrugging his wide shoulders. His mother shot his back a dirty look.
"Go on and wash away the rain from your hair. You'll have a cup waiting for you," she said.
Rhonda sensed the tension and was thankful to be dismissed. She followed Allegra's instruction and went up the stairs, passing by framed family photos hanging on the walls. The toilet was just beside the top stair. She flipped the switch and was visually assaulted by the bright, starkness of white. The porcelain gleamed. Allegra Gammelthorpe was a neat-freak. She looked around. The bathroom was small and functional with a bathtub and a shower. Rhonda chose the shower since it was faster. After savouring the splash of warm water, she cleaned herself up with a floral scented soap and minty shampoo. There was no hairdryer so she towel dried and put on the black and white pinstriped pyjamas. She draped the towel over her shoulder and left her long hair down to dry.
She folded her wet clothes and placed them in a plastic bag she found in one of the cupboards. Hopefully, she could run her clothes through a dryer before she left since she was naked under the pyjamas. Her Victoria's Secret underwear had gotten waterlogged as well. It made her slightly self-conscious to be so exposed.
With careful steps, she made her way downstairs, passing by the living room and noticing an old clock. The hands pointed 12:45. She yawned. It was getting late. She proceeded to the kitchen. Just like she said, Allegra was waiting for her by the wooden table with two mugs of cocoa in front of her.
"Feel better?" She sipped on her drink as she watched Rhonda sit down across her. She held out a hand to gesture at the younger girl's cup.
"Yes. I do. Thank you so much for your hospitality." She explained, "I feel really stupid about what happened tonight."
Rhonda placed the bag of her dirty laundry under the table. She rubbed her hair with the towel.
"Think nothing of it. Thaddeus is preparing his room. You'll be sleeping there and he'll be sleeping on the couch."
"Oh, I can sleep on the couch," she shrugged.
She really didn't mind.
"Nonsense, you're a guest. We don't have a guest bedroom so his room is the next best thing. It's fine, please. Make yourself feel at home. We promise we're not a family of vampires out to get you in your sleep."
Rhonda let out a small laugh.
"Okay."
"My husband's on a camping trip. He's at Lake... Oh, I've forgotten the name. So it's just me and my son. I've asked him to check the door. Sometimes the crevice at the bottom lets water in during stormy weather. Thaddeus must have seen you then."
"Thank you for inviting me in anyway."
Allegra just smiled.
They settled into a comfortable silence. Only the tick tock of the living room clock, the pitter patter of the rain and the sips of cocoa breaking the monotony. Allegra was so nice to her. Compassionate. A trait passed on to her son. However, unlike her, her son who was often resistant to being helpful in fear of coming across as soft-hearted.
"It's so nice to finally meet you. Again. You know?"
"Huh? I'm sorry, what do you mean?" Rhonda asked, lost.
Allegra linked her fingers around her brown mug. It said 'Coffee makes me poop' in white lettering which Rhonda thought was hilarious.
"Nothing. Well, actually… I know quite a bit about you through my son."
Her wide eyes twinkled in amusement.
"I see."
Allegra realised what that could imply. "Please don't be alarmed. It's just–when he was in middle school, he talked about you. A lot. Every day after school, he would come home with a different story about you. Rhonda this and Rhonda that."
The older woman laughed. It was a delicate sound. "He would even pick his clothes on whether he thinks you'll like them or not."
Rhonda tried her best not to wince. She wasn't the best person in middle school. Or high school, for that matter. She especially haven't been kind to Thaddeus back then. But he took countless rejections like a champ. At least, until the summer after freshmen year. He changed. After that, he didn't take her shit anymore. She would insult him and he would hit back with a remark that was far cutting than anything she ever came up with. It sort of changed her life. By the end of the year, they weren't on speaking terms. Or it they were, it was to bare their fangs at each other.
"I bet the stories stopped in high school."
With a smirk, Allegra shook her head. "They didn't. They just became negative."
Rhonda nodded in understanding. "I see. We sort of became enemies then."
Outside, the wind roared. The branches hit against the kitchen windows' glass panes.
"My boy can be quite sensitive," Allegra said.
Rhonda thought about dodgeballs, PS118, and Principal Wartz office. "Yeah, kind of."
"Hmm, and jealous," Allegra continued, closing her eyes for a while.
"Jealous?"
The Italian woman gave her a knowing stare. "I believe it's in high school when you had your first serious boyfriend? What's his name? Brett? Garrett?"
Rhonda's face heated up at the realisation this woman knew way too much of her past. "Chet."
"Yup. That's the one. Oh boy, did I hear a lot about Chet."
"Uh…"
Allegra laughed. "It's alright, honey. No need to get embarrassed. I just want to thank you."
Confused again, she tilted her head, letting the damp towel drop from her hands. "For what exactly?"
"For putting my boy in his place."
Somehow, Rhonda figured that any other mother would be angry at her for rejecting their son but Allegra Gammelthorpe was unique. A puzzle, even. She was a bit of an eccentric. Like her son. Same wild spark.
"And for taking care of him in Italy."
There it was. So she knew. Thaddeus shared it with her. But how much did she know? Did she know about… Rhonda stopped herself. No use making assumptions.
"Thaddeus was close to his grandmother. The news hit us both pretty hard. You know, when I call home, my Uncle Alfredo still asks about you."
Alfredo. She missed that man, his good humour and food.
"Alfredo was the best. About Thad, I didn't know he was going through a tough time," Rhonda said softly. "He never said anything at first. Only when I confronted him. Thaddeus is, well, how do I put it?"
Allegra let her go on.
"Like you said, sensitive. I think he's quite special, you know?" Rhonda said then let out an embarrassed laugh. Allegra kept quiet but something in her eyes softened. "I mean, you've raised him well. He's smart. And nice. At least when he chooses to be." She mumbled the last part under her breath but Allegra caught and she hollered in laughter.
"Yeah, most of the time my son's a dick. You don't have to sugarcoat it, honey."
Rhonda laughed as well.
"We're all getting along here, aren't we?" a sarcastic voice cut through the laughter. Just like that, Rhonda felt the temperature in the room drop. Thaddeus didn't seem to want her in his home. He was wary. On his guard. She sensed it.
She wanted to knock him upside the head. How dare he act like this when he's the one who invited her inside? Or the one who didn't call?
Are you even listening to yourself? Stop it. You sound extremely bitter. It was three years ago.
Rhonda bit her lip. Allegra turned to her son standing in the doorway. If looks could kill, he would have been decapitated by his mother's laser glare.
"Don't be rude."
"Sorry, ma," he quickly apologised and shot Rhonda a look dripping in icicles when his mother wasn't looking. He fetched himself a cup of cocoa and leaned against the counter far away from his mother and their new guest.
Her cool-girl glare had never been so quickly turned on someone. She let it pierce him. Imagining that she was carving his face with her eyes. He glared at her right back. Brown fighting Hazel. It was a close match.
Allegra whipped back to Rhonda, the young girl quickly pasted a bright smile on her face. "Would you like to go to bed now? Your room's ready."
"My room, you mean," Thaddeus muttered under his breath. His mother ignored him.
"Sure," Rhonda replied in a chirpy tone sure to piss off Thaddeus. "But I have some wet clothes here. Could I maybe use your dryer?"
"Of course. You can just toss them in the machine. It's in our basement. Thaddeus can show you." She, once again, turned to her son. "Be a dear and help Rhonda out, will you?"
"My pleasure." It sounded sincere except for the fact that he said it through gritted teeth and his right eye twitched slightly. "Come on. It's this way."
"Good night, dear!" his mother called out.
"Good night," she replied.
He walked fast and she almost lost him if it weren't for his loud steps. The stairs to the basement was behind a door attached to the upper staircase. It was pitch black until Thaddeus hit a switch. The lights flickered on with an electric whirr. Upon coming down, Rhonda realised that their basement was probably the least loved space of the house. It wasn't decorated or worked on like the rest of the rooms she'd been in. The floor was linoleum and the walls were lined up with washing machines and dryers. Some of them were big, industrial and painted a bright blue. She remembered how his family used to own a dry-cleaning shop.
She watched him popped open one of the grey ones then he held out an expectant hand.
"I can do it myself."
"Suit yourself. I just thought the princess might be more comfortable with letting commoners do the dirty work."
He let his hand drop and backed away. Rhonda stepped over. She gave him a bitter smile. His arms were folded and an amused expression stretched across his face.
"You said it wouldn't be much trouble to have me here. Why are you suddenly acting obnoxious and irritated?"
He shrugged, "Maybe I changed my mind. It's been known to happen."
Or maybe his mother told him something that upset him.
It was his turn to watch her. She didn't dump everything in one go. Instead, she felt for the cups of her bra and then pulled it out of the bag, letting the strap dangle on her finger. He wasn't so unaffected now. She noted with satisfaction how his face fell and his Adam's apple bobbed. Next, she did the same thing with her lace panties. He looked like he was about to have a stroke.
"I'll wait for you upstairs. To start the cycle, just press that blue rectangular button," he said in a strangled voice.
Then he fled. Once he was gone, Rhonda stuffed her clothes and the towel in the machine. "Chicken," she said under her breath.
…
After her clothes had started to spin, she went upstairs where sure enough, he was waiting for her. He still looked pissed but now more reserved. He leaned against the wall opposite the basement door.
"I'll show you to your room."
"Don't you mean your room?" she said, throwing his earlier words at him.
He let it roll off him, rose from the wall in a lazy, cat-like manner, and brushed past her to the staircase with quick steps. They went past the bathroom she used earlier and a door that she could only assume was his parents' room. There was a sliver of light at the bottom. Allegra was probably getting ready for bed as well. At the end of the hallway was a black door. He opened it for her and she marched past him then dive-bombed the bed. It was soft, covered with a black comforter. She stared at the light grey ceiling with a smile. Her arms outstretched, caressing the comforter.
"Could you be more careful? This isn't your room. If you break anything, I'll have to fix it," she heard him say. He sounded like a nagging aunt.
"You're such a dork. It's mine now. That's what your mom said." She rolled around just to drive the point home.
"Only for tonight," he reminded her.
She sat up. He was looking at her weirdly. Then she realised, this was the first time that she had ever been in his room, on his bed. His face flushed red again.
"I'm heading downstairs. Good night," he said quickly.
"Wait!"
He huffed. "What?"
"Are you sleeping on the sofa?"
"Yeah?" he said in a way that illustrated 'and your point is?'
"You're too tall for the sofa downstairs."
His eyes narrowed. "How would you know?"
Because I know every inch of your body and am perfectly aware that you're extremely tall.
She rolled her eyes. "I saw the sofa."
He waved an impatient hand, turning away again. "I'll sleep on the living room floor. Good night, Rhonda."
"W-w-w-wait! Damn it. Come back."
"What?" he whipped his head back towards her and whispered harshly.
Rhonda felt so stupid to even suggest this. The warning bells in her head were ringing. They got shriller and shriller. But she ignored them.
"Sleep here instead."
He stilled then cocked his head at her. He looked like he was either about to throw up or throttle her. "With you?"
As if the concept was totally horrendous. Rhonda squelched down the hurt. Control. Total and utter control.
Don't be stupid and brash, Rhonda. You got hurt the last time.
She pasted on her winning smile. "Nah. I'll sleep downstairs. This is your room."
He shook his head and scowled.
"Ma, wouldn't like that. Besides, I wouldn't like that. I might as well just throw you out in the rain too if I let you sleep downstairs."
There were times when he could be sweet or utterly infuriating. Rhonda didn't know which category this moment belonged to.
"And I am not comfortable with kicking you out of your room and making you sleep on the sofa. So, I propose a compromise. You get one-half, I get one-half."
The thought of having the power to throw him out of his own bed reminded her of a wife. The thought of sharing a bed with him reminded her of having a husband. She can't win.
"One-half of the bed?"
"For a man who graduated from Stanford, you sure are purty slow," she drawled the last part in an accent reminiscent of Stinky's.
He frowned before shooting her a derisive grin.
"At least I didn't get an art history degree. I heard Starbucks is hiring this time of the year. You might get lucky."
"Ohhh, burn. A Starbucks joke. Sooo original. So, what's it going to be, big boy?"
He could decide. This was the only ultimatum she'll throw at him. This wasn't how she pictured them meeting again. She imagined a café where they would reminisce about the past and laugh about it. Instead, what she got was this. An accident followed by a disaster mixed with unresolved tension and unspoken emotions. Things that were too heavy to discuss tonight. If there was one thing they could do as a team really well, it was avoidance. Even if it meant falling back into the same patterns they had in high school.
Fight of flight, right?
She heard his voice echo in her head. He had said that to her once. After a food fight involving tapioca pudding and Jell-O that got them both suspended. Funny how she hadn't thought of that in years.
"We can share. I guess. If you're really cool with it."
There was a lot of trepidation behind the words. His foot tapped the floor. It always does that when he's nervous.
She didn't let her smile show. "I'm cool with it. It's not like we haven't before."
The shock on his face reminded her that the last part of what she said probably should have been kept to herself. When he recovered, he cleared his throat.
"I won't kill you in your sleep is all I mean," she added, trying to pass it off as a joke.
He went along with it. "As if you could."
"Don't tempt me."
For a moment, all he did was stand by the door and watch her. Where had all the years gone? She wondered. In a split second, she was brought back to Rome. When he would look at her like that. Then he ruined it by saying with a quick point, "Your nipples are poking through that shirt."
Instinctually, her arms flew to cover her chest. "It's cold and you're a pervert!" she yelled.
He smiled widely then closed the door. "I'm going to change now." He made a short trip across the bedroom and opened his closet.
"You're not doing it in this room!"
He laughed. "Like you said, it's not like you haven't seen it before. And it is my room."
"I never said that. I said–" she stopped herself before burying her face into one of his pillows. "Just do it quickly."
He laughed even louder. "That's what she said."
"Urgh!" she groaned. The sound muffled by the pillow.
There was a shuffling of cloth and then a loud thud of a closing door.
"I'm done. You can open your virginal maiden eyes now."
"Good. I hope they don't burst into flames upon seeing your wretched, naked body."
She still kept her head down.
"One could only dream," he said. Then she felt him tug on the covers. The mattress dipped to her left. Finally, she opened her eyes. He was wearing a thin white cotton t-shirt. She couldn't see if he was wearing pyjama bottoms since his legs were under the covers. "Good night, princess."
He clapped and the lights went off. They were plunged into darkness.
"So impressive," Rhonda said sarcastically in the dark.
She listened to his steady breathing. He was ignoring her. She went on.
"When did you buy the clapper?"
"After I burned all your Barbie dolls. Look, can you just go to sleep?"
The quiet made her uneasy. Staying in a room with him wasn't such a good idea in hindsight. She felt a panic attack coming on.
"I knew it was you. You're sick," her voice had a breathy Marilyn Monroe quality to it now. If she just went along with the jokes, she'll be fine.
"Still not sorry about it. Those things make great burning material. By the way, are you an owl? Why won't you just shut up and go to sleep?"
"Stop giving me attitude. I didn't plan to be stuck here, okay?"
Her voice came out sadder and more broken than she intended. She felt him turn towards her but she kept staring at the ceiling. Even if she did cry, she doubted he'd see it. It was so dark in his room. There was nothing to focus on but the sounds. The thunder rolled outside and the rain still crashed against his windows. His sheets rustled.
"I'm sorry."
Short. To the point. For years, she thought she wanted his apology but now that she had it, it felt more like a dismissal. It opened old wounds.
She heard him breathe in. "I guess, no… I was, I was so shocked to see you outside my house. The way I dealt with that shock is by being an asshole. You don't deserve that. I'm sorry."
She didn't reply.
"I think I'll go sleep on the couch now."
Her hand shot out to stop him from moving. "Can we– for tonight, can we just pretend everything's fine? That nothing happened?"
When she didn't hear him say anything, she continued, maintaining her grip on his arm. "Like, you're not going to sleep on the couch because it's awkward and we kept in touch for years."
"This isn–"
"Like we're just two high school classmates who had an accidental meeting in Rome. And now, now we're stuck here doing our best to deal with the circumstances."
She waited for him to insist on moving to the couch again. Instead, he relaxed.
"Yeah, we can do that."
"Great."
She let him go and there was silence once again.
"Rhonda?"
He hadn't spoken in so long that it sort of jolted her awake when he called her.
"Yeah?"
In the darkness, she can pretend it was her imagination's version of Thaddeus that she was talking to. He was just a disembodied voice in a sea of nothingness.
"Why'd you add me on Facebook?"
She aimed for a breezy laugh what came out was a choked chuckle. "It's not a big deal. I asked, you accepted. It's in case of high school reunions. Just want to be sure I'm updated."
The delivery made it seem like she wasn't obsessing over that friend request earlier in the week.
"And the shoes?"
"Hmm?" she pretended she didn't know what he was talking about.
"The dress shoes you sent a month ago?"
"Oh that," she said like she'd forgotten. "Graduation present. I sent one to everyone." Well, she did. But it was to cover up the fact that she only wanted to give him a present. She figured it would be too obvious if only he received one.
"You sent everyone Italian dress shoes?"
"No, you idiot. I sent everyone a personalised gift. Suited to their tastes. Courtesy of yours truly."
She heard him snicker. "Such a saint. I guess now that you're an art history graduate, you have to bribe people to get a job. It's sad."
"Shut up. You're such a smartass. If you must know, I do have a job lined up at McDonald's as a cashier. Thank you very much. So you don't have to stay up at night and cry, worrying about me."
He snorted.
"And I bet you liked those shoes."
"My roommate dug them even more."
"Tell me you didn't give them to him," she moaned.
"I didn't," he sighed.
"Good, because they were for you."
She felt his breath on the side of her face. She missed this closeness between them. His scent was everywhere and she wanted to bathe in it.
"Thanks," he said quietly. "I know they cost a lot."
"The price isn't important."
"The luxury of being rich."
"Coming from someone who owns a gorgeous apartment in Rome."
"It's my mother's. And shut up," he retorted.
"You shut up."
"You shut up."
"You shut up. Trying to get some sleep here," she snapped.
There was a quiet moment before they both sprang into laughter at their silliness.
"We're okay, right?" she asked. The question hung in the air.
Before finally, he replied.
"I think so," his warm voice enveloped her. She was hyper-aware of the touch of his skin when he wrapped his fingers around her hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, cradling her hand close to him. He thought she had fallen asleep but she heard him.
And at that, they both fell asleep peacefully. Holding hands in slumber like they used to.