Avoiding the Memory of You

Three

  I hold my breath, waiting to hear either crying or footsteps as my knuckles hit the storm door.  What I hear first is a bit of yapping before it grows eerily quiet again.  Did the dog keel over and die?

  "Who is it?" is called out from further away than I expect.

  "New renter!" I shout. "I had a note in the mailbox to come over-"

  The door pulls open and I nearly swallow my tongue when I see the woman from the restaurant standing in front of me. She's no longer in her little jean overalls, but a tiny pair of sweat shorts and a black tank top with the University of Alabama's emblem across it. Those brown locks of hers are piled atop her head and a pair of thick black rimmed glasses rest on her face.

  "You?" she questions, her brows shooting up as she crosses her arms. "You're the new renter?"

  "Apparently," I sigh, crossing my arms against my chest maybe to give off a don't screw with me vibe, cut also a bit to cover up the ghastly amount of make up Lucy cried off onto my sweater. 

  The horrified look on her face tells me I didn't hide it quickly enough. "I know, I know. It's going in the garbage as soon as I get in the house. So if you could?" I hold my hand out, waiting for the key.

  "Why are you tossing it? Have you never heard of Dawn dish soap?"

   I stare down my nose at the woman who isn't paying me a bit of attention as she pulls on my arms to show off the dirty spots. "Oh, yeah. Totally salvageable. Come on." She walks away, leaving me standing, stunned in the doorway.

  She continues talking over her shoulder as I begrudgingly follow her. I'm not gonna get in the house without the key and she's holding it hostage somewhere. If giving me cleaning tips is the way towards getting myself in a bed, then so be it.

  "By the color of the lipstick, I'm guessing Lucy either hugged you or you found your way across town to the only strip club within a fifty mile radius." She pauses, her head cocking as she stares at my chest. "Odd place for the make up to end up though if you went to the club. I'd think it'd be a little lower, but hey, to each their own I suppose."

  This woman is a bit more brazen than I originally thought at the restaurant. I mean, it's one thing to come up and speak to a random stranger, but insinuating sexual favors takes  some real guts in my opinion.

  As does the way she's staring at me.

  We watch each other in silence before she's waving her hand out in front of her. "Come on, man. I don't have all night. Hand me the sweater."

 She's holding the dish detergent over her kitchen sink. My eyes narrow and pierce her. "Can't you just tell me what to do and give me the bottle? I'll leave it on your doorstep or whatever."

  "No can do. It needs to be washed and I'm pretty sure your unit doesn't have a washing machine."

  "I get the feeling I've rented the money pit," I grunt in agitation. 

  Gwen laughs at me, full on double over laugh.  It's a dazzling sound, one like I've never heard before. I'm use to hearing my family laugh at my expense, and maybe that's what the woman in front of me is doing as well. But it doesn't sound the same. It doesn't sound like she's laughing at me, as much as wanting me to laugh along with her at the absurdity of the situation.

  "Come on. Pass it over and I'll make sure you get it back tomorrow, free of whoever's Super Orgasm lipstick that belongs to."

  My  hand had been gripping the back of my collar, ready to pull it off until she said the words 'Super Orgasm,' causing me to halt all movements. 

  She must realize what she's said, causing her to not only giggle again, but blush. A beautiful pale rose color tints her cheeks as a hand comes over to cover her gaping mouth. "It's the name of the shade of lipstick!" she assures me, trying to catch her breath.

  "Wait!" she calls out to me as I begin pulling the shirt off again. It's too  late for me to stop as it pops off over my head, leaving me in a ribbed, white tank top. 

  I'm very secure in the way I look. My body is void of tattoos, but muscular. One of the perks of the country club was the ability to use their state of the art gym. 

  I don't miss the way Gwen's eyes widen a touch as her lips form a cute little 'o' in response.

  "I thought you wanted this," I say, breaking her out of whatever stupor the little bit of my showing skin has placed her in. 

  "Well, yeah, but, I mean, there's something else I want, too."

  I lean my shoulder against the door frame, holding out the sweater in my opposite hand. "I don't really know you that well, and I'm gonna be next door for a while, so I'd rather not mix business and pleasure."

  "Oh, gosh," she blanches. "No. Not at all what I was getting at." She snatches the material from my hand. "A name. A name would be nice."

  On a deep inhale of breath I come clean with a name. "Hugh."

  She stops squirting the soap on the sweater and cocks her head towards me. "I don't really get a Hugh vibe from you."

  "What do you mean?"

  Her hands begin massaging the soap into the material. "Well, I hear Hugh and automatically I'm thinking of Hughie, Dewey and Louie." My brow arches, silently questioning what the hell she's talking about. "Donald Duck's nephews."

  "Please don't call me Hughie. It rakes on my last nerve."

  "Your last nerve?" she repeats, rubbing the dirty spots against one another before adding more soap. "You're what? Barely thirty?"

  "Close enough."

  "Pushing thirty and you're already on your last nerve? That's not looking promising for a very bright and happy future," she goes around me and enters into a small room, "Hughie."

    My head falls back against the wall where I'm met with an image across the way of a woman on a hospital bed with tears pooling in her eyes.

  "If I tell you what I prefer to be called, will you drop that damn nickname?"

  She pops her head around the corner from where I can hear the washing machine filling. "I can't really make promises that are so large, but I can try."

  "It's Ransom."

  Gwen steps around, stopping right in front of me. She holds up a key. The key I'm guessing will get me into my new home for the time being. "Pleasure to meet you, Ransom." She drops the key into my waiting palm. "And if we're being honest, I prefer to be called Gwyneth."

*Unedited