Wendy Chapter 3: Moving

Going bats!

CHAPTER THREE: Moving

 

 

Apprehension was a hard knot at the pit of my stomach when I entered housekeeping the next day. Would Dave continue invading my space and acting like a creep? My stomach unclenched by lunch time. Dave was acting his normal a*****e self, but paid no special attention to me. I was relieved there was no repeat of his unwelcome interest.

 

Friday after work, as I strolled towards my car, Eric called my name. We hadn't had any serious talk since the flood, just our usual lunch-time small talk, but I felt something had grown between us. Now he jogged to catch up with me.

 

“Wendy, are you off this Sunday? I wanted to ask a favor.”

 

“Yeah, I'm off. What can I do?” I smiled with pleasure, happy to do something for him.

 

“I'm moving out of my parents' house and have some boxes and small things that need to go to the new place. You've got that station wagon...”

 

“You need transport for them? My wagon isn't super big, but I'd be happy to give you a hand.” My heart lightened.

 

“Great. Can we do it Sunday afternoon?” 

 

We exchanged numbers.  A tingle in my belly joined the lightness in my heart as he headed back toward the hotel.

 

***

 

Sunday was going to be hot. I could tell by the warm, dry breeze at dawn. I dressed in a tank and shorts. Letting my GPS guide me to Eric's, I spotted his parents’ ranch style house just before one o’clock. The fully grown trees lining the street spoke of an established neighborhood. It was quiet and wholesome-looking. The scent of fresh cut grass wafted in my window. I backed into the short driveway, setting the parking brake just as Eric emerged with two cafe chairs, stacked. Boxes stood in neat piles by the garage. I noticed his defined biceps flexing. He looked good in his jeans and tee. I was getting to like seeing him out of uniform.

  

“Hey there. Want some coffee? You had lunch yet?” He was sweating, a sheen of perspiration on his brow.

 

“I'm good, just ate. This is what needs to go?” I gestured towards the boxes.

 

“I've got some furniture too. Small pieces.”

 

“Well, let's see what you've got before we start loading,” I said with a practiced eye on the boxes and chairs. “I can cram more stuff in there than you'd think possible.”

 

***

 

His new place, a stucco apartment building near downtown, stood under large trees as well, but was less affluent than his parents' house. Negotiating a stairwell, we deposited the first load in his apartment on the second floor. It was a light, airy apartment built in the thirties, with quaint touches like the decorative tile pattern around the fireplace. I leaned against the mantelpiece as I wiped my forehead, feeling the heat of the day rising.

 

Eric brought me a bottle of water, handing it over as he opened his own bottle. Misted with condensation, my bottle was blissfully cold. I rolled it over my forehead, the condensation joining the sweat beaded on my brow and running down my temples.

 

“This is a nice apartment, Eric. You lucked out on your first place.”

 

“Actually, this will be my second place. My ex and I lived on the other side of town. I was just with my parents while I regrouped.”

 

I didn't say anything, just made an interested noise. I didn’t like to pry.

 

“How long have you been living with your sister?” Eric asked.

 

“Since she graduated from high school last year. Before that I had my own place.”

 

“So you moved out right away too?”

 

“Right after graduation. Growing up we moved around from one rental to another, with mom's boyfriends. Nothing pleasant to hang around for. I like being on my own.”

 

“Yeah, it will be good to be back on my own too. My bedroom here still has model airplanes hanging from the ceiling.”

 

I imagined him in this peaceful house, making models and being fed sandwiches and cookies by his conventional suburban mother. What was it like to live somewhere for more than a year? What was it like to have security and stability?

 

Eric laughed, following his own chain of thought. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be a jet fighter pilot. I made so many of those damn models. Used all my allowance on the kits.”

 

I dragged my mind back to the here and now. “All those little pieces, I’d go crazy trying to put one together.”       

 

“I’m pretty good with my hands.”

 

My pesky imagination now jumped to what he might do with his hands when not making model airplanes. What it would feel like to be touched by him.

 

“You think a mattress could go in your wagon?” Eric broke in on my thoughts. I couldn’t control my own mind today.

 

“I put one on the roof when I moved, no problem. I’ve got bungee cords,” I replied.

 

We drove back to his parents’ house. After we loaded up the remainder of his boxes, Eric led the way up to the attic where his mattress set was stored. It was hot and dry up there and smelled of dust. Eric pulled off the heavy sheet of plastic draped over the mattress set and reached back to grab the end and start pulling it out of its nook, but jumped back. Something dark swooped over my head and I ducked.

 

“S**t!” He was inspecting his hand and I saw a streak of blood.

 

“Something bit you?” My eyes darted about but I couldn’t see anything.

 

“A bat, I think.” He spread the plastic sheet a bit and it was speckled with droppings. “So much for that mattress.”

 

“How’s your hand? Is it bad?” He peered at it in the gloom and shrugged. I guided him to the window and rotated his hand to see better. There were two small punctures and a smear of blood, nothing dramatic. I continued my inspection until I realized Eric was looking at me, not his hand. I let go and said, “You’ll need to wash that. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

 

“Hospital? For this little scratch?”

 

“Rabies.”

 

He shuddered.

 

***

 

 

“Ow.”

 

I winced as the nurse inserted a long needle into his upper arm.

 

“Okay, honey, hop down and let me do these. Which cheek do you want them in?” The nurse gestured to four more needles neatly lined up on the counter.

 

“Cheek?” he asked.

 

“I’ll be right out here,” I excused myself and stepped into the corridor, shutting the door. I knew, thanks to my encounter with an aggressive raccoon when I was 11, exactly where those shots went.

 

Back in my Subaru, I failed to repress the laughter that bubbled up when Eric eased his way into the front seat, favoring his left side.

 

***

 

We managed the last of the boxes despite Eric’s bandaged hand.

 

When we were finished and Eric walked me to my car, all my ease fled.

 

“Thanks for helping me. I owe you one,” Eric said.

 

“No problem, I like using my Subaru. See you tomorrow I guess.”

 

We started to shake hands but it turned into a clumsy hug. My face burned as I got into the driver's seat and pulled out onto the street. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Eric in the sunset light, tall and handsome. Uncle Philip was right about grabbing life with both hands.

 

 

***

 

Monday morning's dawn was dry and warm again, boding a sweltering day. Auto-pilot got me to work. Whole stretches of my commute passed by unnoticed as I relished pieces of my afternoon with Eric. Arriving at the hotel, I buckled down. Giddy school girl behavior doesn't earn money or win raises. I clocked in, got my cart ready and started my rooms.

 

I was moving along efficiently until room 306. It was a king size room with a Jacuzzi. As I had been trained, I checked for a “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob. I then knocked loudly, calling “Housekeeping!” Tried it again. No response. I cracked the door and called out “Housekeeping!” one more time. When I fully opened the door, I was horrified to find a couple still in bed, nude. I slammed the door shut calling “Sorry!” into the closing gap. Guilty dread flooded me. It was my fault and I'd get fired. I found Brenda, as Dave was off for the day. After my breathless explanation, Brenda laughed, eyes dancing with amusement at my embarrassment.

 

“Don't worry, Wendy. People do this all the time... let the housekeeper walk in on them, then raise holy hell and get a free room from the hotel in compensation. They knew what they were doing.”

 

***

 

Working on room 318, I moved to my cart to fetch a sheet set.

 

“I hear you had an X-rated encounter this morning.” Eric was leaning against my cart.

 

I glanced at my phone... 2:45, fifteen minutes before Eric's shift started. Had he come early to talk to me? My stomach turned over.

 

“Not quite X-rated, but definitely R. They were not... umm...”

 

“In flagrante delicto?”

 

“Exactly. It was bad enough as it was though.” I needlessly straightened a row of tiny shampoo bottles on my cart.

 

“Good thing Brenda is working today.”

 

“No kidding. How is your hand?”

 

“A little stiff. It’s not my hand that hurts. I had no idea you needed shots in the… Well, it hurts to sit, that’s for sure.” His mournful look was comical but I managed not to laugh.

 

He must have seen the amusement in my eyes because he said, “There is something in the misfortunes of others that is funny, especially when it involves a pain in the a*s. Admit it.”

 

I couldn’t stifle my laughter any more.

 

“Sure, sure, make fun of a guy when he’s down,” he said, rolling his eyes.

 

Managing to get myself under control, I asked, “Do you have a fever or anything?”

 

“Yep, sure do. I feel awful. I might leave early if Brenda can spare me.”

 

“It should get better quickly. You’ll be fine by tomorrow.” 

 

My phone chimed the hour. I still had to make the bed and vacuum 318. I'd have to hurry my last two rooms. Eric suddenly looked alert too.

 

“I'm late. Gotta go.”

Author's Note

How is the conversation between Eric and Wendy when they are in his new apartment? Does it flow, make sense, conjure up images and feelings for you?

Reviews

[AUU]

This was a very pleasant read. And a more light-hearted chapter after the last, which does well for the pacing.

I feel like you're doing well growing their relationship between Wendy and Eric. It's natural. The way you wrote the hospital scene was hilarious due to the brevity of the dialogue.

And you're writing is super clean. I'm jealous! Ha!

My only qualm is Wendy's plainness. Maybe she's just like that, but that doesn't mean you can't use that! I'm expecting a twist, something that really puts her character through the wringer. I'm conflicted. You've done well building a character. I don't want you to change her. If I would have to describe Wendy right now, it would be the girl next door that's always at work. She's not judgmental, she's caring, she's hardworking. Those are terrific traits, but that doesn't make them flawless traits, which is why I'm conflicted. Being "too" good can lead to great drama.

I know you said it's something you're aware of, so my intention is not to keep grinding away at it.

Keept it up :)

[SweetNutmeg]

Many thanks again for your feedback. I do plan on putting Wendy through the wringer. I like what Kurt Vonnegut says on this topic: "Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them-- in order that the reader may see what they are made of." What I have gleaned from all this good feedback I'm getting is that I need to get that hook, that spark of personality in there in the first chapter. I am incorporating this into my current work. You've been a big help.

[Shep]

feels fine to me love the speed love the dialog, love everything about it.

[SweetNutmeg]

Haha, you are reading faster than I can respond! Thank you again, you are always so encouraging.

[Shannon]

This was nice to read, both Wendy and Eric seem nice I these scenes.

I feel like there are opportunities to really build on their characters in throughout.. Have them respond more in real time, showing more about who they are.

[SweetNutmeg]

Now that you've said that, yes, I can see several good openings for conversation that would reveal more about the two of them. I will get to work on that right away. Thank you so much for your helpful words.

[Shannon]

I feel like you set it up, almost there in this chapter with the two of them. And by him moving, we can find out more about Kyle's interests, maybe? Does he collect something? Love to bake (we know not cook). I feel like you started this with the food Wendy makes when we first met them!