At precisely 6:20 I am walking up the short walk to the little navy blue house with white trim Heather had indicated as hers. The house was hough old and a feast due for a fresh coat of paint. The small front yard sisted of a two tiny patches of green wn with narrow beds ht, cheery flowers b the approach. In a word I would describe the pce as ‘quaint’. It was a far cry from the huge, almost patial, two story brie the Hutton’s had lived ba the old neighborhood. After living there with her husband and kids all those years I could imagine how cold and lonely such a big house would feel.

  I smooth out my t shirt and run a hand over my freshly cut hair before feeling my smooth jaw for any spots I might have missed. The barber hadn’t been willing to give me a shave on top of the cut for just 27 bucks but luckily I’d been able to do a fair job with my electric razor in the rear view mirror. After the salon I had less than a fiver to my for a meal and a bed for the night I thought it an iment worth making. I mean, how far was that money going to st me anyway? As I stand there mustering my ce I am still ting my blessings for Heather’s generosity. God, the way I spoke to her! She would have been within her rights to spit on me and tell me off, never mind invitio her home. This might have been just a reprieve before hitting the gutter tomorrow but after the day I’d had I was srateful for it. It made me wonder if I had a pair of guardian angels still looking out for me.

  I shake my head and try to banish that thought. Imagining my parents seeing me in my current state was more than I could bare right now. After a deep breath to yself I kno the white wooden door.

  Maybe 30 seds ter I hear the st couple of footsteps approag the door before it swings opeered in the white door frame stands Heather just as I had seen her earlier except that her sandals had been traded out for a pair of slippers. Able to look me eye to eye despite her thin slippers she smiles a warm and weling smile.

  “Hello Elliot.”

  “Hello Mrs. Hutton.” She does not correct me to Heather this time. I’d fucked that up by being disrespectful to her.

  “Well look at you.” She surprises me by stepping up close and running her fihrough the short hairs just around my ear. I’m a bit weirded out by the ued touch, and my hair having just been washed and cut my scalp was ultra-sensitive at the moment, but I do not recoil from her. “That’s much better. I bet it feels better too.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” I nod.

  Leaning in she gives me a sniff. “I think a shower is in order.”

  “Uh, yeah. I meant to…”

  Stepping back she waves away whatever excuse I was about to e up with. “Supper will stay warm. Let’s grab go that pile of clothes I saw in your car.”

  “Clothes?”

  “Your dirty undry.” She ughs and swats my belly with the back of her hand. “It might be a bit before you them again. e on.”

  Grabbing a pair of undry baskets that had left beside the front door she hands me one and pnts the ainst her the curve of her hip. Before I know it Heather is leading back down the sidewalk toward my car. I am terribly embarrassed as we pull my soiled garments from among my other crap to stuff them into the baskets. I mumble a few fibs about why I hadn’t done my undry in so long but she didn’t seem muterested. Her focus was oask at hand. Soon we are heading back up the walk with every scrap of clothes I had to my name piled in the baskets.

  “Whose this young man?” es a creaky voice from the yard over.

  “Ms. Hancock.” Heather greets the elderly woman. “This is Elliot. He’s a friend of Liam’s.”

  Friend? More like bitter enemy in an uneasy truce, but who was ting. “Hello Ms. Hancock.”

  “Hello dearie.” The wrinkles of her weathered face deepen as she smiles.

  “He’s passing through tonight.” Heather says. “I had a spare room and thought I could save him on a hotel.”

  “That’s nice.” She says. “o meet you, Elliot.”

  “Same to you, Ma’am.”

  With that we tinue on into the house. As Heather waits for me to slip out of my shoes she says. “It’s o see that your manners have returned.”

  “Yeah. I’m…not proud of how I talked to you.”

  “All is fiven.” She assures me once more. “Follow along.”

  From the entryway we enter into the main room of the house which sisted of both living room and kit. Everything was and tidy. At just a g was as clear as day that this pce had not felt a man’s touch as the decor was all soft feminine pastels. A few things stand ht away as I look around the living space. The first, and most obvious, was the potpourri st that filled the area with the aroma of vender and who knows what else. Though strohan I would have liked it was very pleasing on the nose. Sed was the ck of television or any kind of home eai unit that would have dominated most rooms like this. And finally was the tasteful, good quality, but mismatched furnishings. As someone who had been shopping at sed hand shops for his whole adult life I reized that Heather was shopping at the same kind of pces that I was. The more I looked around the more I saw through the facade of doilies and potted ferns and khrows and framed family photos to the aging furnishing and older style kit appliahe more it began to dawn ohat she might have moved out of her big house for more reasons than mere loneliness.

  “So here’s the kit and dining room.” She nods to that area of the room from which a scrumptious smell was emanating from the hot oven to mih the other sts. “Living room.” She nods. tinuing past she nods to each door as we go. “Washroom. Ste. Spare room. I’ve got the bed made up for you. My room, stay out.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  “And this is the basement.” She says as she opens the st door. “Laundry is down here.” She leads me down a narrow set of wooden stairs into a partially finished basement with three rooms. When she clicks the light on I see the first taihe washer and dryer, the sed held the furnad hot water heater, and the st looked to be some kind of office of hobby room. She hoists her basket onto the ter beside the washer and nods to the floor beside her. “You leave that here.”

  “Oh, um, I do my own undry.”

  “Of course you .” She chuckles. “But the washer be tricky if you don’t ba right. This oime, I got it. You are my guest after all.”

  “Well, thank you again!”

  “You’re wele, Elliot.” She grins. “Now you go hop in that shower so I don’t have to smell you all night.”

  A blush warms my cheeks. “Oh. Is it that bad?”

  “I’ve got a sensitive nose.” She says. “I left you a robe and some jammies on your bed so you don’t have to get bato…those.”

  Sheepish about my hygiene I nod without protest. “Yes Mrs. Hutton.” Just as I turn to head upstairs I pause. “Oh, uh, if you don’t mind. What’s the password?”

  She tilts her head. “Password?”

  “For the wifi.”

  “Oh, I don’t have i.”

  “Don’t have i?” I say, perplexed. “Serious?”

  “Never really .” She shrugs. “I just call Lily if I need anything looked up.” She ughs. “Drives her nuts.”

  “No i!?”

  “No.” She says. “Did you for something?”

  “Well…um…everything!” I say. “Who doesn’t have the i?”

  “Just me I guess.” She says as chipper as ever. “Now get on with ya, dirty man, and don’t fet behind your ears.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  I leave Heather loading my undry into the washer and head upstairs. No television? No i? No wifi at all? I felt like I’d stepped into aime. Ah well, I was only here the night. The spare room I find cozy and as tidy as the rest of the pce. The bed I find made and tucked with a homemade quilt as the top yer. On the impeccably made bed was a folded set of men’s blue pajamas that was clearly fresh out of their package. A white bathrobe was id out beside them.

  Peeking through the curtains I see the window looked back out over a very small yard with grass let to grow a bit too tall crossed by undry lihe garbage and recycle bins were just behind the fence along with a single parking spot where a familiar gray luxury SUV arked. I reized it as the same car she’d been driving back when she was running her kids around to their various activities all those years ago. To the right was a ramshackle shed that looked ready to blow over on the stiff breeze.

  I grab the robe and pajamas, quietly amused at Heather’s use of the term ‘jammies’, and head into the washroom. It was as expected for such a woman’s space as this. There were shells and sted soaps and no end of lotions and ois. I start the shoing and strip out of my clothes. As I look at them I am again embarrassed that a nian like Heather had to see me looking so shabby. It was only moments like this that I was even aware of it anymore. At oint had I stopped giving a fuck about my looks? How long had I let myself fester like this? Fuo wonder Bir tossed me to the curb. Maybe, just maybe, she might take me back if I ed up and got my life back together. A guy could dream.

  As I look over my clothes somethiher had said to me es to the fore. She was right. Who knows when I would get a ce to get my undry done again. If she was doing the rest a few more items wouldn’t hurt. I pull on the robe and tie the belt. Colleg up my clothes I pad over to the open basement door then start dowairs where I hear the hiss of the washing mae starting its cycle. I am halfway down when I dip my head to ask if it would be okay to add more clothes to the load when I freeze in my tracks.

  Mrs. Hutton stood fag partly away from me. Held in her left hand was one of my shirts which she had held up to her face as she took long, deep inhaling breaths, clearly smelling my manly funk. Weird. Really weird. Even weirder though…she had the front of her dress pulled up as she maniputed something in front of her crotch with her right hand. What the hell was she doing? I couldn’t see anything, but the way her arm was moving was…odd. For a woman at least. As I watch she lets out a sharp breath, her shoulders heaving forward as she did, then whispers something to herself as her right arm quis in a sort of stroking motion. Jesus! Did she have some sort of toy that she was rubbing against her snatch? By the angle of her forearm it must have been a long one. Did she have a broom handle or something? Was she getting off to my smell? Or just the fact she had a man in her house? How long had it been since she’d had a man around? Since Mr. Hutton seven years ago? Was she attracted to me!? She wasn’t at all my type, and pletely off limits sidering who she was, but I couldn’t deny feeling at least a little bit fttered.

  Well, whatever the hell she was doing I retty damn sure that she would not appreciate an interruption by a nosy guest. Wanting that meal and warm bed I decide to beat a hasty retreat. As quiet as I could I creep back up the stairs aurn to the washroom a very fused and an.