Don't Kiss the Bride

“I can’t,” I reply. “Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why are you?”

“I look awful.”

He scoffs into the phone. “I don’t give a shit what you look like. I care that you’re okay.”

“Don’t I sound okay?”

“No, you sound like someone who’s trying to get rid of me.”

“You obviously can’t take a hint.”

“You can’t bullshit a bullshitter, Sparkles. I’m gonna knock on the door in two seconds—”

“Don’t!” I say quickly. “Please don’t. Come to the window on the right side of the house.”

“You mean the one I’ve seen you climbing through?”

I gulp. “Yes.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up. I’ll see you at the window, Rapunzel.”

I throw on a white hoodie, pulling the hood over my rumpled hair. I straighten my wrinkled comforter. On the way to the window, I grab the can of air freshener and give the room a few quick sprays, then make sure my closet doors are shut.

“Be cool!” I whisper to Gus.

Before Jude has a chance to tap on the window, I shove it open and peer outside to find him standing beneath it. He’s almost tall enough to see inside.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi again.” He reaches up and hands me my book bag, hat, and a small, brown stuffed teddy bear. “I got you a get-well bear.”

“Oh.” Further words escape me. I put my things on the floor beside me, but clutch the little bear against my chest. “Thank you.”

“Can I come in?” he asks.

My stomach sinks like a bag of bricks. “In here?”

His gray eyes pin me with the impatience of a frustrated parent dealing with an unruly toddler. I can’t blame him, I know I’m acting like an idiot.

“Fine,” I answer with a sigh, backing away from the window so he can climb through it. I’m surprised he’s able to maneuver his wide shoulders through. For a moment, I was afraid he’d get stuck.

I close the window behind him. He slowly circles the room as if he’s expecting a serial killer to jump out from under the bed or from the closet.

“You look better,” he says when his gaze lands on me.

“Thanks.”

He slowly moves to my bedroom door and nods at the three deadbolts.

“What’s this all about?”

“It’s not as bad as you’re probably thinking, Jude.”

Crossing his arms, he leans back against the door, his frame almost completely covering it. He seems much bigger here in my small room. “Nothing good would require that many locks.”

“Why do you care?” I reply defensively, not wanting to tell him the truth.

His eyes soften for a beat, but harden again when he takes a breath. “I’m not sure, to be honest. But now that I’m here and I see this,” he cocks his head toward the locks, “I’m not just gonna ignore it.”

Jude’s obviously like a dog with a bone. He’s not going to forget this and leave, and I’m too tired to think up a believable, creative lie. Jude’s too smart to buy a lame explanation, anyway.

“You can trust me,” he says. “Haven’t I proven that to you already?”

Still holding the stuffed bear like a security blanket, I nod and lower myself down to sit on the edge of my bed.

“Yes.”

“I’m not into begging people to talk to me, Sparkles. I worked my ass off in the heat today. I’m tired. You look tired, too. Make this easy on both of us, okay?”

He slowly crosses the room and I stare at the tips of his scuffed boots when he stops in front of me.

“Can I sit next to you?”

“Yes.”

He sits about a foot away from me, and Gus immediately starts rubbing her cheek down the length of his arm. I always thought she’d be leery around a guy since she’s never been around one before.

“Cute cat,” he says.

“It’s kind of a long story,” I begin. “I guess there’s a few things going on. There’s what’s out there.” I swing my gaze to the locked door. “And what’s going on with me.”

His large hand gently strokes the cat’s back as he waits for me to continue. Gus purrs like a tiny furry locomotive in response.

“I’m not sure when it started, but my mom is a hoarder. I think she probably always was, but it wasn’t this bad when I was younger. She’s got stuff piled almost to the ceiling in every room of the house. You can’t get from room to room without climbing over things or squeezing between. She stopped cleaning years ago. The kitchen and bathroom are filthy, and there’s bugs and rotting food.” I swallow hard. Jude’s chin rises a little and a muscle in his stubbled jaw twitches. “I can’t use the bathroom anymore, so I use cat litter in a big bucket and just throw it away every day. I know it’s gross, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

He shoves his hand roughly through his hair, the corners of his eyes narrowing as he scans the room, finally noticing the small fridge in the corner.