STROKED LONG Page 3

  “It’s so . . .” she pauses, and for some reason I wait with bated breath for her next sentence, “it’s so clean in here.”

  Clean is a good thing; I pride myself on being clean. Clean and structured is the kind of life I strive for, one with repetition and order.

  “Thanks.”

  “I like the white walls.” She says this with no sarcasm or humor in her voice. I glance over at her to see if she’s smiling, but all I see is her observing her surroundings, taking in my home. “But where are your curtains?”

  Thrown off by the question, I ask, “Curtains?”

  “Yeah.” She sits down on one of the metal chairs that rests under the dining table and places the tub of cookies in front of her. “Don’t you know, Bodi? Curtains are the heart of a home. They make or break a living space. They can turn any ordinary living room into a homey one. They also feel like a protective shield from the outside world to me.”

  “Curtains?” I fidget in place, uncomfortable with this conversation. Did my childhood home have curtains? Fuck, I can’t remember. “Um, I don’t need them.”

  She shrugs. “I couldn’t live without curtains.” Clapping her hands together, she looks up at me, a bright smile on her face. “Where do we start?”

  “Can I get you a drink?” I ask. Tried to ask. It sounded like a demand. My mom used to sound so kind when she asked house guests . . .

  “Sure, what do you have?”

  I walk to the fridge and hold it open while I call off my drink options. “Water, fat-free milk, protein shake . . .” I cringe as I realize I don’t have anything really to offer her. I don’t do this. I don’t do well with people.

  “I was kind of looking forward to a protein shake, but water sounds great.” She chuckles and I start to feel insecure at my lack of finesse when it comes to being social.

  “Sorry. I haven’t gone to the store.” Grabbing two water glasses, I fill them with ice from the fridge’s icemaker and go for a water bottle when Ruby steps up next to me.

  “I love tap water, no need to open a bottle.” Taking charge, she fills both glasses with water from the faucet, snags napkins from the napkin holder on the counter, and then heads back to the table.

  A little perplexed, I shake my head at her and head back to the dining table behind her. Popping open the lid to the cookies, she takes out two and places them on napkins. Sliding one of them over to me with my water, she winks and says, “In case you get a wild hair in you.” She takes a sip from her glass and then scrunches her nose. “Ooo, that’s cold. The ice knocked against my front teeth. Ever get a brain freeze from ice hitting your front teeth?”

  “What? No,” I say, confused.

  “You know what a brain freeze is, right? Oh wait, you don’t eat ice cream because it’s sweet.”

  I can’t help it, I chuckle. “I’ve had ice cream before, Ruby.”

  She claps her hands and sits up in her seat, vibrancy pouring off her. “Awesome! So you know what a brain freeze is. Ever get one from ice on your teeth?”

  “No.”

  “Me either, but what a story that would be, right? One knock from the old ice cube sent my head into a fit of panic and froze everything over. The only cure? Tongue to the roof of one’s mouth and prayers to Elsa from Frozen to end all pain. Am I right?” She elbows my arm and wiggles her eyebrows.

  “Uh . . . sure,” I drawl out, a little intimidated by her ability to talk about pretty much anything without a worry or care. “Maybe we should get started on the foundation planning.”

  She’s in mid bite to her cookie when she nods her head, crumbs falling to the table. I make a note to vacuum once she leaves. “Great idea. No more nonsensical chit-chat. Let’s get down to business. What are you planning to accomplish with this foundation? What is the money going to? What would you like me to do? Do you have anything done yet? Do you have marketing or promotions or a Facebook page, or a board of directors?”

  Her questions come flying at me a mile a minute and I can’t comprehend all of them. Her multiple and diverse questions spin around in my head, sending me into a pit of confusion and frustration. She’s going too fast, and it’s making it hard for me to concentrate.

  “Wait.” I hold my hand up and squint, trying to comprehend everything that’s coming out of her mouth. “Just give me a second.” I take a deep breath and open my notebook. I have notes with boxes next to each of them so I can check off the topics I want to go over.

  “Wow, your penmanship is on point.” She leans over and looks at my notes. Feeling a little suffocated, I pull away quickly, and she catches on. “Oh, sorry. Am I invading your bubble?”

  “My what?”

  “Your personal bubble.” She motions a circle around her. “I get it, I can be a little much at times; you just have to tell me if I’m going too fast for you. You’re not going to offend me.”

  I nod and swallow hard. Even though I am extremely uncomfortable, surprisingly, she is not making this hard. She is reading me somehow. If this is going to work, she needs to know a little bit about my working process, that way I can make sure I don’t end up freaking out on her, which I can already feel starting to build up.

  I pat my pens and notebook and then look up at her. She’s patiently waiting for me to answer. “I’m, uh, a little particular about things.”

  “Say no more.” She holds up her hand to stop me from continuing, saving me from having to expose a side of me I try to keep hidden. “Let’s go at your pace. You lead, and I will wait for your cues to proceed. I don’t want to step on your toes or make you feel uncomfortable. So lead the way, Bodi.” Taking another bite of her cookie, she smiles brightly while she chews and waits for me to lead our meeting.

  “Okay.” My chest eases and my breathing becomes less restricted. “I’ll give details of what I want to accomplish, and then we set goals for today. We can go into other things at a later date.”

  “Sounds great to me.”

  Handing her a pamphlet, I start telling her about the idea of the foundation, how we want to develop scholarships for kids interested in art or swimming who can’t possibly afford the right kind of education or coaching they need to succeed. We want to bring arts and athletics together, creating a harmonious connection, rather than having the two things separated. One can support the other. One thing Eva’s passionate about is ensuring kids who are interested in art are given just as much of a chance at a future as those who are very good at athletics. She believes our society sometimes focuses too much on athletic prowess, and she wants to make sure artistic ability isn’t left behind. I support her one hundred percent on this because, even though I’m immersed in sports, I’ve seen how art has been therapy for Eva and how she’s able to live a normal life . . . unlike me.

  “This is fantastic, Bodi.” Ruby’s eyes sparkle with excitement. “We can have a fundraiser gala where we incorporate—”

  Doooooong. It’s eight thirty.

  I grab my phone and head to the living room. “Excuse me.”

  I don’t have to search for the number in my phone, it’s the first one. I make my routine call.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with Ruby right now?” Eva answers on the second ring.

  “It’s eight thirty.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of the time. Are you being rude, Bodi?”

  “No.” I pace the living room, feeling Ruby’s stare on my back, and speak softly into the phone. “I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

  She sighs on the other side of the phone. I know this is annoying to her, my need to call her at eight thirty every night to make sure she’s in for the night, locked up, alarm on, and safe. But this single phone call, to hear her voice and make sure everything is okay, allows me to be able to close my eyes and sleep. Eva is everything to me.

  “Bodi, when is this going to stop?”

  I grip my hair and try not to pull on it too hard, hating the way my stomach is in knots right now.

  Ignoring her, I ask
, “Are you in for the night?”

  There is no use fighting with me, she knows the routine. “Yes.”

  “Are your doors and windows locked?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about your alarm system, do you have it set?”

  “Yes, Bodi.”

  The tension coiling inside of me releases just a shred. “Will you send me a picture of your alarm panel?”

  “I do every night.” She does; that’s not a lie. She puts up with my demands, my idiosyncrasies that would drive any other person insane, but not Eva. She understands where my panic comes from; she was there. That night. That night. She’s my everything.

  “Is Lauren home?”

  “Yes, she says hi, and she wants to know what you think of Ruby.”

  “What does that matter?” I ask, turning away from Ruby a little more so she can’t hear the conversation.

  “Come on, Bodi. She’s pretty, she’s funny, and she has a beautiful personality.”

  “So?”

  “So . . . you should ask her out.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose from my sister’s relentless attempts at setting me up. She wants me to find someone like she’s found Lauren but I’m not interested in opening up that part of my life to anyone. I’m content with my routine, with who I am.

  I don’t want to be looked at as a . . . freak.

  “Not interested, so drop it,” I answer sternly.

  “Bodi . . .”

  “Eva, I’m not getting into this right now with company. Now send me the damn picture and have a good night.”

  She huffs, clearly not happy with her little brother dismissing her. “Fine, I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I hang up and stare down at my phone, waiting the expected thirteen seconds it takes until the photo I need comes in. The ding indicates she has done what she was told, and I check the picture. Everything seems to be in order; I can rest easy.

  Turning back to Ruby, I stuff my phone in my pocket and say, “Sorry about that. Just had to check up on some things.”

  “No problem. Have to check in on the missus? That’s cute.”

  “Missus?” My eyebrow raises in question.

  “Your girlfriend, it’s cute.”

  “What? No.” I shake my head and sit back down. “I don’t have one of those.”

  “One of those?” She giggles at me, causing my head to shoot up to meet her eyes. Her laughter is all in good taste, I can see it in how soft her eyes are as she observes me. “Sorry, but the way you phrased that was funny.”

  I shrug. “Never had a girlfriend, don’t plan on ever having one.”

  Why did I just say that? I squeeze my eyes shut from my confession as my hand rubs across my forehead. Enough, Bodi.

  “That was Eva.”

  “Oh, I adore your sister. She’s amazing, such a beautiful and talented artist.”

  “She is.” I clear my throat, feeling uncomfortable and feeling a loss of momentum in the meeting. I search my notes. “Where were we?”

  “You wanted to go over goals.” Without skipping a beat, Ruby falls right back into her professional role, guiding me ever so slightly through this meeting. Thank fuck.

  In her notebook, she takes down our top five goals and structures them to show our top priorities and each step to make them happen. It’s helpful and puts me at ease. She relaxes me so much that while she’s writing something down, I reach up to the cookie in front of me and break off a little piece. Her eyes lift from her paper and watch me place the cookie in my mouth. The corner of her mouth lifts as her long lashes flutter over those bright brown eyes in amazement.

  I quirk my lip. “I didn’t want to be rude.”

  She winks. “Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell your coach.”

  I just nod, not taking another bite despite how good it tastes. I don’t detour from my diet . . . ever, so I don’t plan on finishing the cookie in front of me. I feel out of sorts from the little bite I had.

  “I think we have a good plan set up. Don’t you think?” She sits back in her chair right after she breaks off more of my cookie and plops it in her mouth.

  “Yes. The gala is a good place to start, not only to raise money but to raise awareness.”

  “Agreed.” She looks me up and down and crosses her arms over her chest; there is wonderment in her eyes and I can feel she’s about to ask something personal. “Are you excited about the Olympics?”

  “Yes.” That’s all I say. I’m excited, end of story. Not much more to talk about.

  “It’s obvious in the way you elaborate,” she teases.

  “Not much of a talker.”

  “I sensed that.”

  She’s about to ask me another question but I cut her off. “Um, it’s late, you should probably go.”

  She stammers for a second, sitting back in her seat from my abrupt end to the night. “Oh, I’m sorry.” Shit. A quick intake of breath. I’ve offended her. I think.

  She quickly starts gathering her things.

  I cringe, hating that I have no ability to censure what comes out of my mouth. Why am I such a dickhead?

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” No eye contact again. My hands twist on my lap. “I just meant that it’s late, and you must be tired.”

  “No worries.” She brushes me off. When she stands from the table and packs her things in her bag, I stand as well, trying to think of something else to say. It wasn’t the best night, but it wasn’t my worst, so I’m upset at myself for not being able to end it properly.

  “Can I help you?” I ask, looking at her empty place at the table.

  “I got it, thanks though.” Rushing, she places her bag over her shoulder and carries her tub of cookies toward the door.

  She reaches for the handle, but I stop her by placing my hand on the door. My heart is beating a mile a minute as I try to figure out how to bring that smile back on her face. She’s been so nice to me this entire time, and then I practically tell her to get the fuck out of my house.

  I fucking hate everything about me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “It’s cool, Bodi. Like I said, no worries.”

  My eyes are cast at the ground, so I can’t tell if she’s serious or not. I’m too afraid to look her in the eyes so instead, I unlock the door and pull it open while stepping to the side.

  “Have a good night.” She brushes by me, and I catch a hint of lavender.

  “Night,” I respond, shutting the door quickly and locking up when she’s out of my condo.

  I check the locks three times, review my alarm panel and then go back around through the house, making sure everything is in order. I throw the leftover cookie in the trash. I clean the table with surface cleaner, making sure to scrub hard. Then, I take the vacuum and run it through the house again, spending extra attention near the dining room where cookie crumbs could have fallen.

  I place the dishes in the dishwasher, clean the counters, check my food in the fridge—just to make sure it’s prepared for tomorrow—and then head to the shower where I wash my hair three times, shave, and lather up, cleaning every crevice of my body with precision.

  After I’m dried off, I walk naked to my bed. I like how the cool fabric differs from the heat still coming off my body after my shower. As I sink into my mattress, I think about my night and how impossibly uncomfortable I was most of the time. Ruby thought my house was clean. I liked that. But, she wasn’t dismissive. Weird. What would she think of my bedroom? My empty room bar the bed, dresser and nightstand. It’s . . . clean. Of course.

  There is no doubt in my mind from my conversation with Eva, that she set the entire thing up. “Come on, Bodi. She’s pretty, she’s funny, and has a beautiful personality.” She hopes Ruby and I click, that maybe something will spark between us. She’s right. Ruby is pretty, very funny, and probably has a beautiful personality. Poor Eva, she’ll never give up until she thinks I’m settled. Wh
at she doesn’t realize is that my life right now is as good as it’s going to get. I’m able to function normally for the most part under the watchful eye of the media. I’m able to go out without having a mental breakdown like I used to, and my home is just the way I like it: quiet, peaceful, and secure.

  I don’t need anything else in my life. It’s all I deserve.

  Chapter Three

  RUBY

  “Hey, sweetie. How are you?” Eva pulls me into a big hug then sits across from me at a little table in the popular coffee house Eva wanted to meet at. “You look fantastic.”

  “So do you,” I reply, taking in her skin-tight black jeans and white shirt that is tucked in the front like a cool kid. Eva has always been the epitome of casual style. She might have a loose-fitting boyfriend tee on, but her killer black heels and dangling silver jewelry make up for it, not to mention her long brown hair that reaches past her middle back. I’m not into the ladies but hell, Lauren, her girlfriend, has one hell of a catch. “I swear you get skinnier every time I see you.”

  Eva passes off my comment with a wave of her hand. “Same old girl you know.” She leans over and puts her hand over her mouth as she whispers to me, “But I might have stepped up my Pilates routine. Got to stay limber.” She winks at me and then picks up the drink menu. “What are you getting?”

  “Green tea. I was thinking about getting one of those Rice Krispy treats but now I’m second-guessing my decision.” I sit up and suck in my gut elaborately.

  Eva peers over her menu and raises an eyebrow at me. “Are you kidding me now? You have the body of a goddess, all curvy and beautiful. If I could obtain your kind of curves, I’d be a happy woman. Instead, I was blessed with a twelve-year-old boy’s body: flat everywhere. Did you know that Lauren actually makes fun of me for the lack of ass in the back of my jeans?”

  I’m by no means overweight. I’m healthy and thankful for my flat stomach, but Eva is right. I do have curves—big ones—hence the reason I wear dresses.