I was surprised to hear that he’d been working on it. I wasn’t really used to people investing time and consideration in me. Lance seemed eager and excited to have me here, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Sure!” I replied with enthusiasm, though admittedly I wasn’t expecting much. I was an unplanned visitor and hadn’t really intended for him to go out of his way. I spent the last few weeks telling myself that this was only for a little while and that I’d be out of here as quickly as I could. Not once had it occurred to me that there was some permanence to this arrangement.
Lance eagerly led me down the hallway toward my bedroom. “The bathroom is here,” he began while gesturing to a door on the side. “Decker’s room is here,” he added while pointing at another closed door. “And your room is across the hall from his. Mine is on the other side of the loft.”
I stared at Decker’s door for a second longer than necessary before listening to Lance ramble some more. “I called a friend of mine to decorate. I know you’re really into science, so I focused on geometric patterns as the main theme,” he said excitedly, the pitch of his voice rising with every syllable. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I wasn’t necessarily really into science. Science just came easily to me. It made more sense than people most of the time. “I really hope you like it, but if anything isn’t to your taste, I have a staging warehouse full of furniture. Just say the word, okay? I know how important a space is, and I want you to feel at home here.”
He wanted me to feel at home? When was the last time anyone cared enough for me to feel comfortable? I pushed that thought away and swallowed. Lance then twisted the doorknob and opened the door before stepping to the side so I could see. The moment I saw the bright, airy room, my breath caught in my chest, like a balloon inflated so much that it was about to pop. The space was beautiful. Stunning, even. Based on his job, I knew Lance was into design, but I wasn’t prepared for this.
The first thing I noticed was that it had a big window facing the street, giving me a clear view of the people walking by below. Now to some, that might not seem like a big ordeal. Windows were common enough. Bright rooms were a small luxury that many didn’t realize they were privileged to enjoy. But back in our trailer, three years ago, a massive hail storm destroyed our roof and all of our windows. Mama had to spend most of our grocery money on plywood, and we sealed the trailer shut as much as we could. It took almost two full days of hard work to patch the roof. The makeshift repairs ended up blanketing our small home in darkness.
People didn’t realize what small, dark places could do to a person’s mood. My home became a tomb I couldn’t escape.
The bed in my new room was easily king-sized, much bigger than the twin cot I slept on back home. Deep purple bedding littered with gold, geometrical lines covered the plush mattress, making it look cozy. White nightstands were posted at both ends of the massive bed, with bright lamps perched on top of them. By the window was a cozy leather loveseat with purple throw pillows tossed decoratively along it. A desk with a brand new MacBook sat in the corner, the screen saver already boasting my name. The artwork on the walls was thoughtfully laid out, with more geometric patterns scattered tastefully around the space. I never really gave much thought to the type of bedroom I wanted, but if I had to imagine a perfect place, this would be it.
“This is for me?” I asked in shock while walking inside. My mouth dropped open as I gaped at the room. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when I agreed to move here, maybe a futon in a spare bedroom or an air mattress. But never this. Decker followed after me, clutching my worn backpack to his chest as Lance stood in the doorway, arms crossed with a pleased look on his face.
“Do you like it?” my brother asked.
“It’s incredible. You didn’t have to do all of this,” I replied before pausing at one of the pieces of art above my new desk. The canvas was black and had gold lines formed into a pyramid in the center.
“It’s important to me that you’re comfortable here,” Lance replied in a calm tone. I tried not to get too excited by his thoughtful gesture. If there was anything life had taught me, it was not to let kindness blur your realities. Maybe it was ridiculous to let a jaded past haunt a potentially good future, but I couldn’t just let go of my incessant need to overthink things. My entire life was spent looking over my shoulder or waiting for the bomb to drop. I was conditioned to look for the worst case scenario, because it was easier than getting my hopes up and then being let down.
Decker moved over to my bed with stoic strides, keeping his eyes on me as I took in the room. I was about to ask him if he helped with the design when he intrusively unzipped my backpack and dumped everything I owned on the mattress. He didn’t even give me time to stop him.
“Oh, I can unpack!” I rushed over to him. “You don’t have to help me.” I brushed his arm as I tried to shove everything back into my bag. He grabbed my wrist for a split second, and we both paused to stare at one another. “If you wanted to check for contraband, Mr. Harris, you could have just asked,” I replied in a curt tone before snapping my hand back.
Lance clapped his hands and laughed like I was being funny, but I wasn’t trying to be.
“I was just trying to help,” he replied, though I saw his eyes take in all my belongings. We had a slight standoff before he finally opened the bag back up for me. Shoving my clothes back inside of it, I felt my cheeks fume as I silently thanked whatever god was up there that I hadn’t packed tampons or anything embarrassing.
A hush fell over the room as I took the backpack from Decker’s hands and zipped it shut. They saw the depressing truth: I didn’t really have much. I was pissed that he took my pathetic possessions and put them on display. Something told me Decker purposely emptied my bag, and once again I felt like a question he needed answered. Despite just meeting, he seemed determined to do whatever it took to figure me out, privacy be damned.
“Is that all you brought?” Lance asked as my fingers grazed over a photo of Mama that I purposely left out of my bag. I nodded in answer, then quickly flipped the worn picture over so I wouldn’t have to see her smiling face beaming up at me. I’d only looked at the photo a handful of times. It hurt too much to really sink into the image, so I kept it folded and hidden away.
“I travel light,” I replied with a wink, determined to change the subject once again with lightheartedness. Decker just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest in deep disapproval. I could practically see more of his questions forming at the tip of his tongue. “I brought this for you, actually,” I added before picking up the photo and walking it over to Lance. It was one of the last things Mama gave me. Seemed fitting her last gift would benefit someone else and not the daughter that took care of her. Mama was always chasing other opportunities, other endings. It was easier than facing the reality of her situation, I supposed. In another reality, she had a son she loved. In this photo, she was a selfless mother, doing right by her kid.
The picture was of her at sixteen, in a hospital gown with a proud smile on her face, like she was the fucking Virgin Mary. She was cradling a newborn baby wrapped up in a blue hospital blanket, with her sweaty hair pulled back. I remember feeling confused for a moment when she’d shown it to me. The picture was worn and creased like she spent a lot of time looking at it. There were even lipstick stains on the back as if she’d used it as a napkin at one point. It wasn’t until she whispered Lance’s name that it clicked. Of course it was him. We didn’t really have photos of the two of us. Hell, I honestly had never seen a baby photo of myself. And yet she held on to this little piece of Lance. Maybe it made her feel good.