Easily Amused (4 page)

T
he next day I woke up earlier than usual for a Saturday morning. It seemed like I’d just settled into a comfortable position when dawn arrived with a thud, like a subway car coming to a stop. Normally I’d let myself drift back for another delicious hour, but the knowledge that there was another person in the house intruded on my recreational sleep habits.

The night before, despite Hubert’s protests, I’d frantically vacuumed the area rug in one of the spare bedrooms, then taken some extra sheets out of the hall linen closet and given them the sniff test, which they did not pass. It was another hour before I pulled them fresh and warm from the dryer. Hubert insisted on making up the bed himself and, groggy from fatigue, I let him. Then I headed off to my room to collapse into my own bed.

Now I lay there and listened for signs that Hubert was already up and about, but I heard nothing out of the usual. Above me the attic creaked like it did on windy days. When I first moved in I thought it was squirrels, but I never found any evidence of that, or any other rodents, thankfully. The rest of the house was quiet, but just knowing someone else was around gave the air a different feel.

I kicked off my covers, grabbed the day’s clothes from my closet and dresser, and crossed the hall into the bathroom. Normally I’d have lounged for a few hours in my bathrobe, but good friend or no, I wasn’t about to have Hubert see my chenille robe with the frayed sleeves and my sticky-up morning hair.

I emerged from the bathroom a new person. Or an improved one, anyway. Nothing like a hot shower to give the day a sense of possibility. Maybe some time with my old friend Hubert was just what I needed. I’d make breakfast for the two of us—at the very least I had the ingredients for cheese omelets and toast—and maybe I’d take him up on his offer to go to a movie. It had been ages since I’d seen anything not on DVD. Big screen, surround sound, hot buttered popcorn. I could be convinced.

I made my way down the stairs with a sense of purpose. The whole “stranger in my house/unexpected visitor” thing had made me feel like my life was out of control, but now I was the one in charge. I’d start with eggs, and then navigate the day from there.

Except.

I couldn’t find Hubert. On my way to the stairs I’d passed the spare bedroom. The door was wide open, the bed as neatly made as those found in barracks. I assumed, of course, that he’d gotten up while I was in the shower and I’d find him downstairs. A logical conclusion, except for the fact that he wasn’t there either. I walked through every room calling his name, like a concerned pet owner searching for a cat.

No Hubert.

I couldn’t help but be irked. First he entered my locked house, scaring the bejeebus out of me and making me stand outside in the cold with my
neighbors
, no less, then he guilted me into letting him stay the night, and just when I got used to the idea he took off? Where the hell was he?

I stood in the middle of the living room looking for signs he’d
ever
been there, but with no suitcase there wasn’t even anything he could have left behind. Seeing as I hadn’t found a pile of ashes anywhere, I ruled out spontaneous combustion. That, at least, would have been excusable.

He went back to Kelly, that’s what he did. Sure, old Lola was fine for emergencies, but at the first light of day he’d flown back into her fickle arms. Nice. Real nice. Whatever happened to consideration? Whatever happened to loyalty? Whatever happened to leaving a note?

Just thinking of Kelly made me livid. The red-haired demon. In another life she was probably one of those evil mermaids who lured sailing men to their destruction. Or maybe they weren’t mermaids. Anyway, they were something, and they were bad news, but men, oblivious men, fell for their sweet songs and then crashed their ships on the rocks, which is what should happen to stupid people anyway. I sat down hard on Aunt May’s courting couch and watched as a cloud of dust rose from the cushion. I really should vacuum the furniture more often. Or at all. But who had time to vacuum furniture, what with friends breaking in and then going off without notice? My schedule was pretty full.

I picked up the phone on the end table and speed-dialed Hubert’s cell phone. When I got his voice mail, I left a message telling him exactly how I felt. I said he was irresponsible and rude and that I thought he owed me an apology. That felt good. But not good enough. I wanted to hear his voice on the other end of the line asking forgiveness.

I had to look up the number for what I thought of as Kelly’s place. She’d lived there first, and I always called Hubert’s cell rather than deal with the heinous one. But I’d make an exception this time. I pushed the buttons with shaking fingers and listened—one ring—two rings. I leaned forward and rapped my knuckles against the coffee table.
Pick up, pick up, pick up.
Three rings, and then the machine kicked in with Kelly’s “I’m not home right now.” I almost hung up, but as I was about to set the receiver in the cradle I heard, “If this is Hubert…” I lifted it up to my ear in time to hear the rest: “We’re over and I never want to see you again. You can come and pick up your stuff anytime. It’s in the hallway.”

I
was still sitting on the courting couch in the living room, the cordless phone in my cupped hand, when a car pulled up in front of my house. I heard voices, one of them Hubert’s, and the sound of a car door slamming shut. Looking out the front window, I saw a rusty junker pulling away from the curb and Hubert coming up the walk carrying a white bakery bag. The driver gave a quick tap of the horn as he drove off. Hubert turned and waved at the sound.

“Oh, you’re up!” he said when I met him at the door. “Perfect timing. I hope you didn’t eat yet, because I’ve got breakfast.” He swung the bag to show me. “Bagels and cream cheese. Life is good.” Apparently no one had told him I was mad as hell and that he no longer had a girlfriend or a place to live.

I pushed the door open to allow him entry. “Where have you been?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized I’d channeled my mother circa my teenage years. Her “Where have you been?” was always followed by “I’ve been worried sick.” But I couldn’t follow that script because I wasn’t worried sick, just really torqued off. “I had no idea where you were. You just up and left.”

His face fell. “I’m sorry. Didn’t you find my note?”

“I looked for a note. There was no note.”

Hubert blinked and then broke into a grin. He set the white bag down on the coffee table and beckoned for me to follow him. One minute later we were in the kitchen, where he triumphantly pointed to a piece of paper located amongst the carryout menus on the front of the refrigerator. “No note, huh, Miss Smarty-pants? What do you call this?”

I’d call it a note. It said, “Lola, I went out with Ben Cho. I’ll be back soon. Thanks again for taking me in on such short notice. I really appreciate it. Love, Hubert.” Below his name he’d written the time in parentheses. I glanced at the kitchen clock to compare. “You’ve been gone for two hours? Who’s Ben Cho?”

At the kitchen table over bagels and cream cheese, I got the lowdown. Hubert woke up that morning at six and was reading the paper when there was a tap at my front door. It was Ben Cho, who’d been sent by his mother to give a pair of shoes to my displaced friend. Korean-Americans always rally around the new person to help them get situated, Hubert explained, spreading a thick layer of pineapple cream cheese on his bagel.

“But you’re not new,” I said. “You’re not even Korean.”

He licked a stray dollop off his fingertips. “I know that. But it’s the same concept. You see someone in need, and if you can help, you do. Kind of a nice philosophy. If everyone thought that way, the world would be a better place. Did you know Mrs. Cho’s husband owns Tae Kwon Do World? Pretty cool, huh?”

I didn’t even know Mrs. Cho had a husband.

Hubert continued. “He came here twenty years ago with nothing and brought the rest of the family over a few years later. Now they have a house and a business and are living the American dream. Pretty impressive.” He raised his eyebrows as a thought hit him. “You know, I should really ask him to come and speak to my class. We’re covering what it means to be an American citizen, and I’m doing a short unit on Ellis Island and immigration. He’d probably have tons of stories. And if he demonstrated some tae kwon do, all the better. The kids would love that.”

Hubert had a tendency to go off on tangents. “So Ben gave you the shoes,” I prompted.

“Oh yeah,” Hubert said. He looked down at the sneakers on his feet. “And he waited until I tried them on. They actually fit, sort of. Then we started talking, and he said he was going up to Brother Jasper’s church to set up some chairs for this thing they’re having, and I went along to help. Then we stopped at the bread place. God, it smelled good there. Brioli’s, about three blocks down. You know it?”

I shook my head.

“Oh, you really have to go. It’s mostly a bakery, but they’ve got a few café tables, and they sell stuff to drink, too—coffee and juice and cappuccino.” He lifted his mug and took a sip. “And then I came back here. That’s pretty much it.”

“But how did you pay for the bagels?”

He made a noise in his throat like he was trying to clear something out. “Well actually, I borrowed a few dollars from the money in the nightstand drawer in my room.” I must have looked disapproving because he added, “I would have asked, but you were sleeping. I’ll pay you back.”

“You don’t have to pay me back. It’s just…” I tried to picture that particular room. A bed, a nightstand, a dresser with an oval mirror above it. I’d moved in during the winter months and had decided that instead of cleaning the house out one drawer at a time, I’d wait until spring and go through it all at once—every cabinet, drawer, and closet. But unfortunately once spring arrived, I’d lost my motivation. “There’s money in the nightstand?”

He grinned. “A whole shitload of it. You didn’t know?”

Apparently there was no end to what I didn’t know. “Define shitload.”

“The drawer’s crammed full of cash. Mostly singles, but some fives and tens, too. And there’s a bunch of change in the bottom. You didn’t know this?”

“I keep meaning to go through Aunt May’s stuff, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.”

Hubert looked incredulous. “You haven’t gotten to it yet? I’d have done that first thing. It’s like a treasure hunt around here. Who knows what else you’d find?”

Well sure, he could say that—he found money. The drawers I looked in had contained wool socks and tattered tablecloths. “It’s on my list. It’s just been real hectic with work and all.” The words sounded lame, even to me. It made me wonder what I’d done with my free time the last four months. Could watching Netflix DVDs and surfing the Net account for that many hours?

“I only took twenty, but I’ll pay you back as soon as I get home and get my wallet.”

Home. The word jarred like a direct hit at Paintball Dave’s. I’d forgotten to tell him that his definition of home was changing fast. “About that…” I paused while the words rearranged themselves in my mind. Better to tell him outright or do the soft-shoe shuffle?

He held up a hand. “Don’t even say it. I insist on paying you back.” There he was again with his lopsided grin. Such a big, happy doofus. How could Kelly be so mean? “It’s the least I can do after you let me stay and everything. Although, nothing personal, I will be glad to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

The last time I’d felt like this was in fifth grade when I said good-bye to Whiskers right before my dad took him to the vet’s to be put asleep. I took a deep breath. “Hubert, you need to call home.”

“Kelly called?” His eyes lit up like Christmas.

“No, I called over there looking for you, and Kelly had a message for you on the answering machine.”

“And what did she say?”

“I really don’t want to get in the middle of this. Just call and you’ll hear for yourself.”

His eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, but he didn’t push the subject, just picked up the receiver to Aunt May’s old wall phone and pointed a finger. “Hey, a rotary dial! How trippy is that? I haven’t seen one of these in ages.” He turned to me with a smile, and I nodded. Then I gave a halfhearted wave and left the room. I didn’t need a front-row seat to watch him get his heart torn out. Behind me I heard the
chut, chut, chut
of the dial rotating back to its original place. I kept going until I couldn’t hear it anymore. To put even more distance between us, I went out to the front porch, shutting the front door behind me. If he started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stand it. If it were me, I’d want some privacy and time to pull myself together.

I leaned against the porch railing so that my face was in the light and took a deep breath. It was the kind of warm spring day I’d yearned for all winter long as I shoveled my front walk and brushed snow from my windshield. The air had the after-rain smell I’d always associated with worms when I was a kid. Across the street a delivery truck pulled up in front of the mystery man’s house; the driver hopped out and left a package on the front stoop. Next door to my right, Crazy Myra arranged wicker furniture on her porch and muttered to herself. Down the block I heard a chorus of dogs yapping.

Just as Myra headed inside, my outside door opened and Hubert appeared at my side. He stood next to me for a second and then leaned over and rested his elbows on the railing.

I couldn’t read his face, but I could imagine his misery. “Hubert, I’m really, really sorry this happened. I know I wasn’t always that supportive of you and Kelly, but I know you love her. This has to be really painful.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze, but he didn’t speak, just threaded his fingers together and kept his gaze downward. I continued. “I know it’s devastating, but maybe it’s for the best. Honestly, I never thought you two were a good match. A clean break will give you a chance to move on.”

Hubert turned to face me and gave me a wide grin, the kind I always secretly thought of as his “happy monkey” look.

“Are you quite done?” he asked. “So much drama, Lola. You have totally misconstrued this whole thing. Kelly and I aren’t breaking up. That’s not going to happen.”

“Didn’t you hear her message?”

“Yeah, I heard it, but you have to know Kelly. She goes through these things and then gets over it. She’s probably forgotten about it already.”

“So this is a regular thing? She’s done this before?” Who would put up with such lunacy?

“Not this exact scenario, no. But she’s creative that way.” He unlinked his fingers and ran a hand through his hair. “You really don’t know her, Lola. I wish you could see her like I do. Most of the time she’s the most caring, charming person you’d ever want to meet.”

I’d have to take his word for it.

“She just has this other side. It looks like meanness, but it really stems from insecurity. Kelly just acts out. She’s getting better, though. Relationships aren’t always easy, you know.”

I didn’t know, actually, having had only two serious boyfriends, one in middle school and one in college. Jon had moved away in seventh grade, and Danny, the guy I’d been with for two years and thought I’d be with forever, had moved on to a different girl. Since then my love life had consisted of a string of unrequited crushes and a few dates that never panned out. My mother insisted I was too picky; my father chalked it up to shyness; my sister Mindy said I was a social retard. They all had a point, but I tried not to think about it too much. “So what are you going to do now?”

Hubert sighed. “We’ll work it out. We always do. And then things will be great for a while.” He smiled again, this time without showing his teeth. “On the bright side, we seem to go longer and longer between episodes.” He tented his fingers into a church and steeple.

I filled the awkward silence by saying, “Good luck, I guess.”

“Thanks.” He exhaled and then gripped the railing as if he were standing on the deck of a cruise ship. The
Titanic
, maybe. “I hate asking, but would you mind driving me home now?”

“Sure,” I said. “If that’s what you want.”

“It’ll be the last favor I ask of you. Promise.”