The Blue House of 1478 (16) (Patreon)

Saturday passes.

Matthias calls me from an unknown number, so I ignore it.  It's just as well; out of pettiness and embarrassment, I would've ignored it anyway.  He leaves a friendly, albeit staticky, courtesy voicemail about the room at 1478 still being open to renting — and apologizes on behalf of Levi.

I eye the listings of available rooms to rent beneath me.   There's no hope behind Matthias' courtesy call because it's unlikely that he's convinced Levi that I'm not spawned from hell on a contract to make his life miserable.

But...

No one calls my boss to complain, just as Matthias promised.

I call two more ads, but I'm disappointed to find out that Liza is right — both gentlemen seem to be approaching the end of a long life, and as much as I'd have liked to help them with their bills, I attach myself to people too easily to watch them pass away.

I'm selfish, I guess.

—

"Essential oils have always helped me,"  Mrs. Wells is sitting across from me on the warped floor of her dining room, "two drops of this. Twice a day."

She's sliding me a tiny vial of peppermint extract before she finally decides the conversations between her granddaughter and I aren't as impressive as the happenings on her daily showing of Maud Colette.

"Thanks, Mimi," Kia calls over her shoulder as she hobbles from the dining room, and I smile in thanks as well.  It's only semi-awkward that she listens in to our conversations, and probably only a bit stranger that she thinks essential oils will cure my headache.

It's sweet, all in all.

"Don't worry,"  Kia whispers, her pastel pink nails a sharp contrast to her dark skin.  She curls her hand around my forearm and tugs it to her from across the table.  "You're being hard on yourself, which is unlike you, but refreshing."

"I'm in my twenties —  I'm a gay, pizza-roll loving paperboy who lives in a retirement community, and I might be homeless in two weeks,"  I close my eyes, the humor that I had intended lost on the words, "I was riding a thirteen-year old's bright yellow bike.  I can't believe I picked a fight after riding in on a thirteen-year-old's bike!"

"Theo.  You would've embarrassed yourself anyway, cool adult bike, no cool adult bike."

"Whatever.  I have the social skills of a jilted seventy-year-old because that's all the human contact I have.  I read about ghosts and goblins at least once a day." I inhale,  "What am I even doing?  I am the epitome of someone who should be hard on themselves."

"Are we making ridiculously long lists here?"  Kia rolls her eyes, flipping her dark, tight curls away from her face, "I'm also gay and adore pizza rolls,"  She shrugs, resting her cheek on her hand, "I have long since left the bright world of my twenties, oh, but with a divorce under my belt."

"That's —"

"I'm a certified care assistant, but thanks to a heart made of sap — I now I live, penniless, with my grandmother so I can help my granddad wipe his ass on bad days."

I flush with guilt.

"Kia, uh, no, that's not what I meant.  You're doing —"

Kia raises her other hand to me for silence and glares.  My mouth clicks shut.

"Sorry."

"I drive a 91' Subaru.  And not because I love the vintage aesthetic and frequent trips to Hwan's Repair."  She continues, and gives a self-deprecating sigh,  "My only friend here is an extension of my annoying brother's friend, who, defying gay stereotypes, thinks rain jackets are an alternative to dressing nicely."

"Hey, that's me,"  I raise my hand and high-five her outstretched one, and she snorts,  "where is Hunter, anyway?  And shut up. You love your 91' Subaru.  It gives you the excuse to goggle at Eu-Jin."

"You shut up. Anyway.  Party tonight,"  Kia shrugs, "Down by DovePort.  He's out getting stuff for the cookout; I think he thinks he can win over the small populace of  young women by burning hotdogs on the beach's rusty grill."

I laugh around my inspection of her grandmother's vial, sniffing the strong liquid,

"They'll probably get tetanus instead.  Could he play nurse?  Very romantic, war film style."

Kia only grunts in response,

"Are you going to go?"  I tack on.

"Is your sister going?"  My nose wrinkles in distaste, and she groans, "Gross, no, we've been over this.  The sister that isn't a complete ass and simultaneously has lived years thinking all lesbians want to bone her, despite being a complete ass."

"The only nice sister I have is Katie,"  I snatch a sliced apple from Kia's plate, "and, nah, doubt it. Unless she doesn't have work tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"I can text her, but her boyfriend probably won't want to come all the way out.  Also. Liza will be very sad to know she's not attractive to all lesbians."  I shove the apple into my mouth, and Kia follows with her own, her brown eyes forlornly shifting to the window.

"We can add that to my list," Kia sighs, "pining after a girl who's been with a guy for over ten years.  Figures."

I smack her arm.

"Your car might break down again.  Then in will swoop Hwan's Repair's one and only — Eu-Jin."

I wiggle my eyebrows, and Kia brightens.