The Wall of Winnipeg and Me

This was the next five years of my life. It could be worse, couldn’t it?

It was seven thirty in the morning, and I was at my dining room table for the last time ever when that now familiar, three-rap knock made my door rattle. I’d just gotten out of bed twenty minutes ago, and I was sitting around waiting for the waffle iron to heat up. Hell, I still had my pajamas on, hadn’t washed my face, or even brushed my teeth yet. My hair was up in something that looked like a baby pineapple.

“Aiden?” I called out as I dragged my feet toward the door.

Sure enough, his dark facial hair greeted me through the peephole before I let him in with a yawn and a small frown.

The man who was apparently going to be my new roommate, amongst other things, strolled in, not muttering a good morning or anything. Instead, he waited until I locked the door before giving me a lazy look. “You aren’t dressed yet?”

I had to stifle another yawn, covering my mouth with my hand. “It’s seven thirty. What are you doing here?”

“Helping you move,” he said, like I was asking a dumb question.

“Oh.” He was? He’d said something about it only taking a few trips to move my things, but I’d assumed it would take me a few trips. Huh. “Okay. I was just about to make waffles… do you want some?”

Aiden eyed me for a moment before turning around and continuing on to the kitchen. His head turned from left to right in what I assumed was him either making sure that I had actually gotten some packing done, or taking inventory of what I had left to go. I’d bubble-wrapped all my artwork two days ago. My clothes were all in boxes the people at the grocery store were nice enough to let me have. My books and knickknacks were packed. My television and desktop computer were the only items that hadn’t been prepped, but I had almost every blanket and comforter I owned in the living room waiting to get put to good use.

“Which recipe?” he had the nerve to inquire.

“The cinnamon one.” Before he could ask, I added, “I’m not using eggs.”

He nodded and took a seat at the table, still not exactly subtle in his perusal. All my dishes, utensils, and pots were already out and stacked on the countertops, waiting for their new owners to come and take them. I’d been lugging them around since college, and I figured they’d gone above and beyond the call of duty.

I made more batter and then poured it into the hot waffle iron, keeping an eye on Aiden as he kept taking in my belongings. “What are you doing with the rest of your furniture?”

“My neighbor upstairs is taking the mattress, dining room table, and the dishes.” She was a single mom with five kids. I’d seen her mattress during the few occasions I’d babysat, and my things were definitely an improvement. The dining room table was also a nice addition to the empty space she had where one would have normally sat, even though there weren’t enough chairs for her and all the kids. “My next-door neighbor is taking the couch, the bed frame, dresser, and coffee table for his daughter.”

“They’re coming to get it today?”

“Yep, but my neighbor upstairs is a single mom, and I want to help her.”

“Did you pay the rest of your lease off already?”

I glanced at him from the other side of the kitchen. “Not yet. I was going to go to the business office before I leave.”

“How much do you owe?”

I might have muttered the amount.

There was a pregnant pause before Aiden asked, “For a month?”

I coughed. “No, that’s two months.”

Was he breathing louder than normal? “Did I really pay you that little?”

Again with a comment about my place. “No.” I fought the urge to scowl. I had other things to spend my money on. I didn’t need to explain myself to him.

Did he roll his eyes? “I brought enough cash.”

Was I supposed to say ‘No, don’t worry about it. I have it?’ or was it okay for me to accept it? Ideally, he was already doing more than enough for me for the next five years when I really didn’t have to do much more than sign some paperwork, and make sure I didn’t fall in love with someone…

Okay, that was guilt sweeping along the lining of my stomach, and I knew what it meant. “Don’t worry about it. I can pay for it.” I didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, or whatever it could be called.

Aiden just shrugged.

A few minutes later, the waffles were ready and we ate in silence at the table, both of us eating efficiently and quickly. I washed off our dishes and dried them, leaving them on the stack with the others.

“Let’s get the things your neighbors are taking out of here first, then pack up the cars,” Aiden suggested, his fingers dipping into the front of his shirt to pluck at the medallion hanging around his neck. He moved it so that it lay against the back of his neck, the chain it was on tight around the front of his throat. I’d always wondered where he’d got it from—especially since as far as I knew, he wasn’t a religious person—but it was another one of those things he’d never bothered sharing.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, eyeing the hint of gold one more time. Oh well.

Once on the floor above mine, the single mother opened the door on the second knock, accepting the box of glasses I’d carried up the stairs. “You’re leaving now?” she asked me in Spanish.

“Yes. Do you want to send some of the kids down with me to help carry some things?”