Thursday and Friday had gone rather well for the most part. The grant writing had taken up a lot of my energy, but by the time I was finished work on Friday I had given it to Mr. Watson to review. The goal was to have him make any changes he saw fit prior to it being given to the grant company. However, Friday evening I got to see Donna, Debbie, and Jackie. The four of us had the chance to catch up while the kiddos played. It was nice, honestly. I hadn't seen them in some time and getting to catch up in person was always much nicer than over the phone.
Though, it was now Saturday morning and I couldn't stop myself from trying to clean up my home as much as humanly possible. There were still boxes everywhere, and I was a little bit embarrassed that Harry was coming over with my place looking the way that it did. Normally, I wouldn't have cared. If Donna came over, I would have just told her to not mind the boxes. Yet, Harry was on his way over and I was freaking out. Then again, I hadn't known him for very long so that could've been it.
Heading into my bedroom, I made sure that my bed was at least made and that there were no clothes on the floor. There was a problem with one of the drawers in my bathroom, so I didn't want him to think I was messy when he had to walk through my room. Sighing as I looked at myself in the mirror, I was somewhat thankful that I didn't have much in my bathroom. It looked far less cluttered than it would have if I had everything unpacked that I needed.
By the time it was about ten, I heard the doorbell ring, followed by several knocks on the front door. It left me feeling nervous, but I quickly approached my front door. Soon enough, I was glancing out the peephole, seeing that Harry was very much on the other side of the door with what looked like a tool kit and a small box of something. Hurrying to pull the door open, I watched as he straightened his posture, the curly-haired personality wearing a pair of black jeans and a Led Zeppelin T-shirt.
"Good morning," he stated. "How are we this morning?"
"I'm doing fine," I assured him. "I'm sorry my house is a mess right now. Come in, come in."
I stepped out of the way for him to walk in. He set his toolbox on the kitchen table, leaving me to shut the door behind us. I locked it as well, overly cautious now since there had been a rather active killer on the loose recently. Harry glanced around my home with the small box still in his hands, his eyes focusing on different places before he looked at me again.
"Again, I apologize that it is so messy," I told him.
"So what you have some boxes still?" he chuckled softly. "Nothing is wrong with that."
"You're too kind."
"I'm honest. I wouldn't say I'm very kind, though."
"Yeah, yeah. What do you have there?" I asked, pointing to the box in his hands.
"Oh," he nodded. "It's early, so I thought it would be rude to come over without breakfast of some sort. I decided on donuts. Don't worry, there aren't any cake ones."
His words were kind, and the fact that he made sure to not get cake ones since he remembered I didn't like them was super sweet. We walked the short way into the kitchen, Harry resting the box on the island top before he opened the box. There were a lot of donuts inside, but I was very quick to grab one that had vanilla frosting, grabbing two plates from the cupboard.
"So I see that one works well," Harry chuckled as he took a bite of a chocolate frosted one.
"You are always full of jokes," I stated, resting a plate in front of him. "Bad ones, but they're jokes nonetheless."
"Hey," he complained. "That was rude."
Shrugging off his comment, I told him about the couple of different things I wanted to accomplish today as we ate the donuts. He didn't seem to shy away from any of the tasks, explaining that anything I needed to complete we would finish before he left for the day. It was nice to hear, especially since I felt like there was a lot to do but he was confident that he could get it all done.
"Doll, you've got something..." he started to say, but he quickly cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb along my upper lip. "There."
Harry wiped his hand on the napkin, my cheeks reddened not only from the touch, but the fact that he had very much touched my mouth. It wasn't like it was just my cheek, rather, a different part of my face that I felt was more intimate, so to speak.
"Anyway, I was thinking we could start on the bookshelf," I told him. "I feel like that will take the longest."
"Absolutely."
Before I could grab the plates, Harry had done so first. He took the two dishes, placing them in the sink easily. The gesture surprised me, especially since I was very used to men who would do anything to avoid what was seen as a "woman's job." Brushing the idea off, it wasn't long until we began to make our way to my office after he had grabbed his tool box from the kitchen table. I was pleased that he was so willing to help me with these tasks, though, I was not overjoyed at the fact that I felt like everything was atrocious in my home. There were so many books scattered all over my office, but he didn't seem to care.
"Do you read in your free time?" he asked.
"My free time? When I'm supposed to be sleeping? What's the difference?"
My words made him chuckle. I watched as he looked at the bookshelf that was still very much in the box, Harry crouching down to get a better look at it. Not much later, he was pulling a knife out of his back pocket, the curly-haired man acting like it was totally normal before he cut the box open.
"You just have a knife on you?" I asked suddenly.
"Huh?" he snickered, glancing over his shoulder to look at me. "I've carried a knife on me since I was fifteen, it's not going to change now."
Of course, I needed to think about it more logically. While I hadn't been around very many men who carried knives on them, I was almost positive I remembered Donna telling me that Billy had stopped carrying a pocket knife around the time that they had kids. It was for the children's safety, mostly, so I guess Harry having one wasn't that strange. It just had been a little startling.
"I'll let you hold it if you're worried I'm going to kill you or something," he chuckled. "You know, with the big scary murderer that I look like."
His words were funny. I assured him I trusted him with the knife, Harry holding it out to me as if to ask if I was sure. However, when I waved him off, he quickly put the knife back in his pocket. Harry made sure the box was lying on its side, my eyes focusing on him pulling it open so that all of the materials wouldn't just fall out. It was pretty smart, especially since I would have been the type of person to just reach in the box a hundred time to pull the pieces out.
"What can I help with?" I asked.
"Um, here. Why don't you help me separate these by letter. See how this one has an A, and that one has an E?"
I nodded, quickly working on separating all of the pieces while Harry looked at the directions. It didn't take very long, and I made sure to place the bags of screws on the desk so that I wouldn't have to worry about losing them. We began building it, or, I helped by finding the correct pieces for Harry while he did most of the physical work. Though, he started to ask me about a book he saw sitting on the floor near us, my eyes focusing on the novel.
"What do I know about The Handmaid's Tale?" I questioned, making sure I heard him right.
"That's the one over there, no?" he asked, pointing toward the stack where it was sitting. "That came out, what? Two years ago?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Have you read it?"
"I don't know, is Offred a Handmaid?"
"So you have read it," I continued.
"Sure I have, Magdalina. I've read a lot of books. I have a good amount of free-time, I would say. More than most are lucky to have."
It was crazy to think that he had read such a woman-led novel. After all, I was quite used to men reading only the newspaper at best. Even in my field of study, I felt like men were able to read whatever they wanted and women were always assigned specific readings. It wasn't fair, but, I only had one year left so I hoped and I prayed that it wouldn't be much worse. Though, the idea that Harry did a lot of things unlike the average man was something I was not used to. He was definitely crafty like most men as he had told me before, but there were certain aspects to him that I would not have thought possible. Like, for example, him taking the dishes to the sink.
"So, you read a lot of books?"
"Oh, many," he agreed. "You should see the small library I have at my house."
It made me smile. After all, the thought of a man being so interested in reading was something that I felt was so uncommon now. They just wanted to come home and watch television or listen to the radio. In the past, I felt like there was no other way to enjoy the evening except leave my ex with either of those devices while I managed my way to the bedroom so I could read. We were completely opposite. But, then again, maybe it was the journalist in Harry that enjoyed the reading so much.
"Just to be sure, you majored in Journalism, right?"
"I did. I have a degree in it and everything," he nodded.
"Nice. Where did you go to college?" I asked.
"FSU. I was going to go to Washington State, and I was accepted and all, but then uh," he paused glancing down at the instructions for a moment before he continued what he was doing. "Then my mom was killed and I didn't want to live in Washington any longer. When FSU found out why I wanted to transfer, they took me almost immediately."
"Harry, I'm so sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for, Magdalina," he assured me quietly. "Things happen. You can't let them ruin the way that you continue to live your life."
He was right. After all, I had never experienced something so traumatic as in a family member of mine being killed, however, I did feel like a part of my family had died at one point. I mean, they left me to survive on my own after everything had happened with my ex. It was disheartening, to say the least. But, it wasn't like there was anything that I could have done to avoid what had happened.
"You miss her, though, I'm sure. Your mom, I mean."
"Of course I do," he nodded. "No one was or ever will be like her. I just try to think that she's watching over me now."
"And you're exactly right," I nodded. "She is with you always. You'll meet her again one day. God intended it to be that way."
He glanced at me for a long moment. There was no expression on his face, though soon there was a small smile that graced his features before he went back to what he was doing. He always had the cutest dimples pop up in each of his cheeks, and I had to say I was immensely jealous. It was so cute, and I had always wanted dimples. I thought they would have made me so much more adorable. Yet here I was, simply thinking about something that was impossible to obtain.
"After the shelves, and once we put the books on here, what's the next plan of action?" Harry asked me.
"Well, we have the cupboard in the kitchen that does not work, the drawer in my bathroom that doesn't work, and the hall light that doesn't work."
"Alright, why don't we do kitchen, hall light, your bathroom?"
I agreed, the two of us finishing the shelving unit within about ten minutes. It was a surprise to me, especially since it would have taken me probably two long hours by myself. Then again, if Harry was a craftsman when it came to wood, I was certain that something like this was a walk in the park for him. I mean, he quite literally had showed that it was. After we put it in the correct spot, he helped me place the books on the shelf in alphabetical order according to author's last name. I liked the way they looked better that way, Harry smiling at me once all of the books had been picked up.
"Look, this room looks like someone can live in it now!" he cheered.
"Oh, you're rude," I complained. "I moved a week ago."
"I know, I know, you told me," he chuckled.
The man grabbed his tools, allowing me to lead him to the kitchen. I pointed out the broken cupboard, Harry setting his toolbox on the counter. He pulled it open, jumping, and catching the cabinet when it fell off the hinges. Though, I felt bad when it looked like he cut his hand, his eyes widening as he set the cabinet on the counter.
"You have to deal with it, I'm going to gag otherwise," he complained.
"What happens when you're alone?" I questioned.
"Then I gag," he shrugged. "Please, it's not even that bad, I just don't want to look at it."
He had gone from being all macho to acting like a small child, but I also didn't mind. It wasn't like I felt as if anything was wrong with that. He had his eyes shut as I brought him to my bathroom where I had my first-aid stuff, Harry's hand barely bleeding, but it was enough that it needed to be bandaged, at least.
"Alright, I'm turning on the water and we're going to wash your hand."
"Got it," he agreed.
I giggled, turning on the sink easily. It left me to make sure that his hand was under the warm water, Harry continuing to keep it there while I squirted soap into my hands. Wetting them slightly, I made sure my hands were soapy before I began to wash his, Harry chuckling.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing."
"Harry," I stated, my tone slightly stern.
"Oh, you know, it just feels funny."
I rolled my eyes at him even though he wouldn't see with his eyes shut, muttering under my breath. He simply chuckled with my murmurs, the curly-haired personality continuing to keep his eyes shut. Once I felt like his hand was adequately cleaned, I shut the sink off, grabbing a towel. Drying off my hands, I soon began to dry his, Harry opening his eyes briefly to stare down at me.
"You really have a staring problem," I told him.
"I'm the one with the staring problem?" he questioned. "Why do I catch you absolutely glued to the glass every morning when you're coming in to work then, doll?"
My face heated up instantly. It was embarrassing to hear him say. Of course, I wasn't saying that he was wrong, but I didn't like to know that he wasn't. I was staring down at his hand as I dried it now, my face on fire. Or, at least I thought it was until I felt his index from his free hand under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him.
"Don't be shy now. I love when people watch."
There was an underlying meaning. I could tell by the smirk that followed his words. What he was implying, I wasn't sure, but if I thought was my face was on fire before, it must have been molten lava now. Shaking my head, I told him I was going to remove the towel so he quickly shut his eyes. It wasn't long until I was hanging the hand towel up, leaving me to grab some Neosporin, and placing it over the cut before I grabbed a large bandage.
"Okay, good. Can you still do stuff with your hand like that?" I asked.
"Yeah, I don't even feel it. I just didn't want to be working and get blood all over your house," he chuckled. "Plus, you know, it makes me squeamish."
Nodding, I followed him back out to the kitchen where the dreaded cupboard door had cut him. He looked at the screws, realizing that two of them were missing from the top, and the bottom ones had been completely unhinged. Harry was quick to look through his toolbox, finding the screws and tools he would need. He was pretty tall, but I grabbed him a chair to stand on for the top half of the cabinet, the dark-haired man getting the job done in less than ten minutes.
"Wow, you're on a roll," I told him as he opened and shut the cabinet like it had always worked.
"Oh, you know me. Onto the hall. I'll probably need that chair, though, if it's a light. Do you have the bulb for it?"
"I do! I bought it yesterday at Richard's."
"I love shopping there," he told me as he turned the hall light on and off to see which light wasn't working before he shut it off completely. "They have the best produce."
"I would say they do, but I like going to farmer's markets."
"Farmer's markets, huh?" he chuckled.
"You're laughing, but I'm serious. Have you ever been to one? I used to go all the time when I lived in Orlando."
"No. I guess you'll have to take me to one, doll."
It made my face flush, but he was too busy trying to unscrew the light cover to notice. It wasn't long until he was handing the cover to me. It was followed by him unscrewing the broken bulb and handing that to me as well. I handed him the new one that was in the box, Harry quickly unboxing it before he handed the packaging to me. Carrying the two items for disposal to the kitchen, I threw them in the trash before heading to the hallway so I could hand him the light cover again.
Though, he was still busy putting the bulb in, my eyes wandering a little. With his arms above his head, his shirt was pulled up just enough to reveal his lower stomach and the boxer band just above the waist of his jeans. I could see he had two tattoos placed just where I could see them with the skin of his body showing, my face flushing at what else could be hiding behind his shirt. Of course, I knew he had tattoos on his left arm, and a few that littered his right, but I could only imagine what was underneath.
"Alright, I need the bulb cover, doll," he stated, my fingers quickly grabbing it from the chair he was standing on to hand it to him. "We're going to be done here before noon."
"You want to get away so fast, huh?" I asked.
He shook his head as he took the light cover. "I don't want to leave, actually. I was just going to keep pestering you and asking what else you needed fixed."
Always so smooth. If he had asked me if I wanted to get away from him, I probably would have just stated yes or no, while this guy was always quick with the comebacks. It was something that I always dreamed of being good with, but I always failed to be. Once he was finished with the bulb cover, Harry took the chair back to the kitchen table. It was followed by us heading to my bathroom, the dark-haired man glancing around my bedroom.
"You want me to hang some of those art pieces?" he asked, pointing toward the ones leaning against the wall.
"Those? No. I got those with my ex."
"Oh," he murmured, looking a little awkward in a way I hadn't seen him act before. "I'm, uh, sorry."
"What's to be sorry about? It's not like you're the reason we broke up. I'm not that interested in going down that story lane right now, though. Anyway, bathroom drawer."
He nodded, but his eyes lingered on the artwork before I walked into the bathroom. Harry stood in my room for a few moments before following me into the bathroom. He set his toolbox on the counter, glancing around the room briefly.
"So this is what it looks like in here when my eyes aren't shut almost the entire time," he stated.
The words made me laugh, Harry allowing me to show him what was wrong with the drawer. Not only was it bad at being pulled out, but the actual drawer part was loose as well. He asked if we could take everything out of the drawer, so I agreed, pulling out all of the jewelry that had been in the drawer in the first place.
"You have a lot of jewelry for a young woman. I don't even think my mum had that much and we were well off."
"Oh," I laughed. "It's, well ... it's embarrassing, but a lot of it is from my ex. I just haven't had the guts to get rid of it yet."
He again looked surprised by my words. I knew it was odd to keep stuff from an ex, but a lot of myself had kind of been torn away when we split up. I lost a lot more than one person when we separated, and because of it I held onto all of the other possible things I could—even if they weren't real. I kept the art, the jewelry, the dishes. Anything to keep me chugging along.
"I'm just going to ask one question if that's alright," Harry started.
"Um, okay."
"Did he like, die, or something? Is that why you held onto everything?"
"That's two questions," I laughed. "But no. He's not dead. I just lost a lot when we broke up so I held onto all the physical things that I could."
Harry looked intrigued by my words. I watched as he worked on fixing the drawer, handing him a screw here and there. He made sure that the drawer was fully working before he worked on the actual drawer piece, Harry finishing that up only a short few moments later. After he had completed the task, I placed my jewelry in the drawer again.
"Next?" he asked.
"I think I have a squeaky door."
"Damn, I probably need some WD-40. I would have to run to the store for that. Nothing you can't join me for, though."
It made me laugh. He grabbed his toolbox, the two of us heading into the bedroom. I was about to leave when he wandered over to the pictures leaning against the wall, Harry setting the toolbox down on the ground next to him.
"You don't mind me looking, do you?" he asked kindly. "If anything, I'd buy some off of you."
I stood in the doorway, nodding. He looked excited then, carefully beginning to finger through the paintings. Some were original pieces, and some were not. I watched as he pulled out the Dalí originals, Harry staring down at them for a while.
"These are numbered," he stated, glancing over at me. "Like, low numbers, too. You have a twenty and a fourteen."
"I know," I nodded. "They were gifts."
"From your ex," he stated. "What did he do? He had to be doing something to afford these."
"They were gifts to his family. They knew I liked art, so I always got the art pieces."
Harry nodded, still appearing confused. I shook my head, moving in front of him to put the pieces back in front of one another. He seemed to realize what I was saying, grabbing his toolbox off the ground as I led the way out of the room. It wasn't long until he was placing it on the kitchen table, the curly-haired man grabbing his keys off the table along with his wallet.
"You ready to go, doll?"
"Sure, let me just put my shoes on."
He watched as I pulled on my shoes, and I felt incredibly nervous for some reason. After all, he was just blatantly staring at me, but I also didn't mind all that much. Once I was finished, I grabbed my pocketbook and keys, the two of us stepping outside. Shutting the door behind me, I locked it, surprised when I saw Harry had opened the car door for me and was waiting with a smirk on his face. I wasn't sure what I had done in life to lead me to this very moment, but I couldn't stop thinking about how I was more than excited to see how this could turn out.