Page 18 of Stroked Long
“Thank you. Tell me, what color is her hair?”
“Blonde.” It’s a simple question to answer, one that eases me some more.
“What color are her eyes?”
“Brown with some gold.”
“Sounds pretty. What does she do?”
“Um, works at the Boys and Girls Club.”
“Nice. How are you feeling?”
“Okay.” I shrug. Not really sure where he’s going with this line of questioning.
Can he just get this over with so I can leave?
“Is she nice?”
“Yeah.”
“Funny?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, starting to get irritated. I shift in my seat, and Dr. Auburn must notice my nervousness because he sits back and takes a quick note on his pad.
“Can I ask one more question?”
“Sure.”
“The curtains. Does that question have anything to do with Ruby?”
I think back to when Ruby was in my condo, surveying my space. She wasn’t judgmental, more observational than anything, taking in her surroundings. I’ve never been one to decorate a house. I use it as a space to live in. You know that saying:a house is built with boards and beams, a home is built with love and dreams.I have a house, not a home.
But there is something that stuck with me when Ruby was visiting, something I haven’t been able to get out of my head. Curtains are a “protective shield” to her. Protection, safety, invisibility, that’s what I strive for when I’m in my condo. She struck a chord with me.
Should I have curtains?
Would she appreciate my place more if I had curtains?
What would she say if she saw them?
Why do I care?
“Bodi,” Dr. Auburn presses, catching me from falling too deep into thought.
“Um, yeah. Sort of. Just thinking of doing some remodeling.” The lie is so blatant, Dr. Auburn starts chuckling as he shifts in his seat, causing a very light smile to tickle my lips.
“Okay, good to know.”
***
This is way too complicated, and I’m pretty sure people are taking pictures of me. Or maybe that’s just me being paranoid.
Probably the latter.
I have three different kinds of curtain rods in my arms, all different sizes because I came to Target on an impulse and didn’t measure any window in my condo. After I left Dr. Auburn’s office, I told myself I needed to get toilet paper so I drove to Target, knowing in the back of my mind I had no intention of picking up toilet paper thanks to the stockpile I have in my linen closet. I always have three stacks of three waiting to be used.
I traipsed around the store for a short amount of time, my hands in my pockets, perusing the Blu-ray discs for longer than I should have but then finally gave in and headed to housewares where I’ve been stuck for at least half an hour.
