What's Inside a Blue and White House

What’s Inside a Blue and White House

I've done seven deliveries, and I’m on my way to drop off my eighth. Erin hasn’t texted me since I left the apartment, which isn’t surprising. I’ll be going home with some cash, maybe enough to buy her dinner, or a drink, if she’s forgotten whatever it was I did last night.

This order’s from Gelson’s. One carton of eggs, juice, vegetables, and some milk. The customer’s name is Rachel Shayan. The directions on the app take me to a nice part of the city, where there are new townhouses painted with a fresh coat of blue and white. They’re plain, but not ugly, and the people inside are probably happy to be in them. I ease in front of her house, get out, and leave the engine running. I ring the doorbell. A couple moments later the door opens and a small woman, brown-skinned, her hair tied up, leans out. She wears a maroon-colored shirt, grey sweats, and no shoes.

“Hey. Gelson’s order, for Rachel?”

Her eyes dart between the bags in my hand and my face.

“Oh, yes, gosh, I’m sorry. You’re Dan, right? It’s just been such a terrible night.” She pats her eye with a balled tissue.

“Yea that’s me. And I’m sorry, I hope it’s nothing too bad.”

“Thank you. It’s nothing. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” A loose chuckle escapes her.

“That’s good.”

I extend the bags out. She opens the door wider. Next to her kitchen is a clear glass table. On it sits a half-full bottle of tequila and an empty glass. I can see myself sitting there.

“Dan, would you mind putting all that in the kitchen for me?” She smiles and steps aside.

I shrug and walk in. Jeopardy’s playing on a large TV in the middle of the living room. I set items down on the kitchen countertop. On her fridge there’s a picture of her standing next to a tall, grey-haired man. He has a genuine smile. They’re wearing heavy jackets and thick goggles sit on their heads. Behind them are mountains draped in snow.

I walk out the kitchen. Rachel is kneeling in front of the bright TV. I used to do the same thing when I was a kid. It forced me to wear glasses, but now I wear contacts. No one can tell anything’s wrong. The crowd is cheering loudly, and she is clapping along, and for a moment she doesn’t appear alone here. Until the cheering stops. Rachels sips a coffee mug.

“Well, it’s all in there,” I say, almost yelling.

“My husband finds this childish. But I like watching people try to answer these questions, and I’ll guess along. Even if I’m wrong, there’s someone else usually wrong with me. Isn’t that a nice thing to know?” She turns and smiles. It’s the same smile she gave me before at the door. Maybe she’s in her late thirties. She looks sad, but good. I hear a loud vibration. Her phone is ringing. She keeps smiling at me.

“My mom likes this stuff,” I say. I agree with her husband. This shit is dumb. I don’t know what else to say besides the inevitable. “Anyways, I hope you have a good night.” She’s staring listlessly at the TV screen. I start toward the door.

“Dan?”

“Uh, yea?”

“I’ve been inside the whole day. I need to sit outside.” She looks at her balcony. “I’ve never sat outside with anybody yet. We just moved in. My husband hasn’t done that with me yet. Isn’t he a meanie?”

“Oh yea, it’s a beautiful place. I would’ve definitely sat out there with my girl.”

“You have a girlfriend Dan?”

“Yeaup.”

“Oh, well excuuusee me mister,” she says with a laugh. “Well, do you have any other deliveries to handle?”

“Not right now.”

“So, if I leave you a nice tip, could you sit outside with me for a little and keep me company? You can have a drink and leave right after!”

I immediately imagine us fucking outside, but I force the idea dead. A drink doesn’t sound bad. Or the tip.

“Alright. Sure.”

“Great! Go turn your car off sweetie. I have a great view, ya know. Just give me a couple minutes, I want to change.” She rushes into a room and shuts the door. I look at the blank TV screen and I see myself in its reflection, standing comfortably in a stranger’s home. I watch a commercial where a guy whose car has been fucked up by a fallen branch ask a lizard for help, then some rapid talking and a logo shoots across the screen and then it ends. Jeopardy screams back on. I walk out. It’s a Wednesday night and I’m going to drink with a random woman. This feels pretty good. This sort of thing usually doesn’t happen. I’ll have a drink or two, then go home maybe. Erin will be waiting. I find an empty visitors parking spot and head back.

Through the closed door comes her muffled voice. “Go ahead and grab a beer from the fridge or pour some tequila. I’ll be right out.” The grey-haired man smiles at me on the fridge. I smile back.

It’s not much of a view outside. All the townhouses balconies and backyards look the same in the dim light. I drink beer and inspect the tequila. Don Juan. I sip a little, let it hug me. I shouldn’t be here, but I’m helping this lady. I could put it like that to Erin later. Through the glass sliding door I watch Rachel grab a clean coffee mug. She changed into a light blue robe. Her brown hair falls to her shoulders, with small specks of blonde at the bottom tips. I like watching her move around the kitchen. I see different ways this night could turn out. Finally, she’s sitting next to me. Her beer is already halfway done. I like that.

“I hope you don’t mind being here Dan. I just want to talk.”

“It’s cool. I don’t mind.”

She squeezes my arm. I try to act like it doesn’t mean anything. She pours more tequila, sips, then hands me the mug. I down the rest. I’m feeling walls cracking.

“Where do you live Dan?

“We live on the Northside.”

“Cute. My ex and I used to live in a little apartment.”

“Cool. Where?”

“Somewhere that I don’t want to go back to.” She hits her beer. “This house is much nicer. Do you like it?”

“Yea it’s really nice. Hopefully one day I can live in a spot like this.”

“You will Dan!” She looks around her balcony and across the tops of dark rooftops. “They’re new houses!” She raises her hands in celebration, like she’s a cheerleader for the townhouses.

“Haha.”

“I’m happy to be with company. Fun company.” She places a finger on her lip and thinks. “FUNpany!” She bursts out laughing. I force a chuckle.

“I’m just happy Dan. My husband, Jacob, has left for the night. So that means I can finally relax.”

Those images creep back up. “Really? What’s he doing?”

“He’s speaking at an AA meeting.”

“What?”

“Yeaup. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay home and watch Jeopardy. Oh yes, he got mad, but you see I’m not an alcoholic…. Jacob and AA turned me into one. That’s what that fucking place does to you.”

“Oh. Shit.” She doesn’t seem like someone who needs AA. I think my mom went for a little after rehab. She’s talked about going back.

“If he doesn’t know then he can’t get mad about it.” She raises her glass, so I raise mine.

“Yea. I guess you’re right.” We clink, drink.

“Sometimes it’s nice to leave this for a little,” she says and taps her forehead and widens her eyes, like a mime.

“Yea. I know what you mean.” Rachel strokes her hair, her legs are crossed, and a little bit of cleavage shows behind the blue robe. She’s beautiful. But I don’t know how to tell her. So I drink more.

“It’s a nice night, right?” She laughs and bites her fingernails.

“Yea. It’s a nice night.” I scan the blue and white houses. Small lightbulbs burn over front doors, indicating people are home. But for the most part the windows are dark, the curtains drawn. Everybody’s safe inside. Or maybe they’re not home at all.

“Sometimes I wonder Danny.”

I hate when people call me Danny. “Uh huh?”

“All these people in these little new houses…would they trade places with me for a day?”

She’s drunker than I thought. “That’s interesting.”

“Sometimes I miss that little old apartment…” She perks up a little now. “You’d turn on one light, and boom! You see the whole place in one blink.” She slouches back down, eyelids droopy.

“Our place gets hot. It’s small.”

“There are too many dark corners in this house….” She quietly cries into her hands.

“I’m sorry.” I think about rubbing her back, but don’t. Does she cry in front of Jacob? Suddenly, there’s a bright light falling onto her from above. She stops crying and starts laughing. She shields her eyes. It passes onto me. I look up then turn away immediately. I scratch my eyes vigorously, white spots flashing and fading in my vision. I look back at the sky and there’s nothing but dark clouds. The sound of the chopper’s wings slicing through the air fades away.

“I wonder who they’re looking for,” she says.

“That light got right into my fucking eye.”

“You shouldn’t have looked straight at it.”

I grab my beer. It’s done. Hers is too.

“Let’s go inside. It’s chilly,” she says. Rachel takes the tequila bottle in one hand and my hand in the other and like a magnet on a fridge our hands interlock. I open the door and grab her waist as she attempts to walk by me. I pull her into me, and I look at her grin and see the alcohol in her eyes and imagine kissing her, so I do kiss her, because I’m here. The amount of tongue she uses is uncomfortable, but my hands explore her backside and waist and it’s worth it. I could’ve missed this moment. She pulls away.

“We’re not even inside yet,” she says. Her fingertips graze through my short hair. “Let’s watch something.”

The lights and TV amplify the beaming in my head, and I know I’m drunk, but I head toward the fridge anyways. Its hum is relaxing and guides me to open it, grab two more beers, then close it with a seal. I stare at Jacob’s smile, which looks fake now. Her smile is sad. Or maybe they were always like that. I cheers Jacob, I cheers the fridge, I cheers Rachel. I plop down on the sofa, giving her a beer. She flips through channels. I notice some wrinkles on her neck and face. Maybe she’s past the age of having kids.

“Let’s see what we can find.” She slouches deeper into the sofa, shooting me a glance and smirk. She takes a healthy gulp of the beer and sets it down with the remote on the carpet and lays back, swinging her legs onto my lap. I feel her thighs. Her head is turned toward the TV and her body is angled toward me, like an old renaissance painting. We both need this, to feel safe with a familiar-like stranger. I move closer to her and begin to go in on her neck with my mouth, feeling her up, wanting to see her breasts. She grabs my ass, lets it go, grabs again. I don’t particularly like it, but I ignore it. I ease off her neck, beginning to undo her robe, taking her in. Her eyes are closed while she feels my body, her neck strained back.

“You’re beautiful, Rachel.”

She grabs my hands. “Can you turn off the lights honey? Their right over there.” She’s pointing toward a wall.

“Yea, sure.” I get off the couch and take a couple steps backward. I stumble and feel my foot knock the bottle over. I look down. It’s spilled all over the remote. She leans forward and looks at the mess.

“Oh fuck!” She bolts up and rushes into the kitchen and comes back with an excessive amount of paper towels. She stamps the wet part of the carpet. The liquid seeps through the towels. She wipes the remote, examining it closely.

“He’ll know there was a spill. He’ll notice the remote. He’ll probably be able to smell it.” She points the remote at the TV and presses buttons at random. The channels change rapidly, then the volume soars and sinks.

“It’s working fine,” I say.

She’s pacing while biting her nails. The towels move around like little ghosts with the fast air created by her feet.

“I think it’ll be okay.”

“No, no, no I won’t be okay. He’ll know. He notices all that little shit…”. She stops moving and looks at me with wide eyes. “We didn’t do anything, right?”

“What?”

“How long have you been here? Just a couple minutes, right?” The alcohol is out her eyes, replaced by a child-like fear. I imagine myself as the trench-coat and fedora wearing guy that’s crossed out on neighborhood watch signs.

“We’ve just been talking,” I say more to myself then her. She walks to a wall and cuts the lights off. We both sit on the couch. The TV’s images flash us with no sound.

“Everything’s better in the dark,” she whispers.

Rachel grabs my hand and again they interlock. But we don’t do anything else beyond that. There’s nothing else to be done.

-

Once Rachel falls asleep, I leave. It feels like I’m in my car very quickly, like I just blinked and there I am. I check my phone. Erin texted me once, a simple “Hey”. I call her. While it rings, I think of everything, but mostly her.

“Hello?” she says.

“Hey. What’s going on?” “What?”

“What are you doing?” I start my car. She pauses. “Are you ok?”

“Yea, I’m fine. What’s up?” I back out. My foot slips on the brake but it recovers. I pass by blue and white houses. It frightens me that they all look the same. They could all hold a Rachel, or a Jacob, or an Erin, or someone like me, but you will never know it. Not unless they open the front door and let you inside.

“You never call me. And you sound weird. Anyways, I’m still here. Are you coming back soon?”

“Yea, well I just wanted to call instead of text. I’m driving. I’ll be home in like ten minutes. I’m pretty hungry.” I stop at a red light.

“You always text and drive.”

“Yea. Well, I got a big tip.” A cop car rolls past in the opposite direction. I put the phone down. She says something I don’t catch. The cop disappears into the night. “What was that babe?”

“I said cool,” she says, pained.

The light turns green. I’m gaining speed a little too quickly, so I slow down. “Yea, I’m so cool, I froze to death.” I don’t remember where I stole that from.

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Nothing. I can come get you, we’ll get some food if you’re down.” There’s a lot of cars out. I need to get off the main road.

“Let me guess, you want Chinese food?”

“I mean, it’s cheap.” I slow down as I approach a busy intersection. I see Roundin’ Third. Erin likes the fries and beer there. We used to go there a lot. I make a quick right, cutting across two lanes and several honks. I manage to get in the farthest right lane.

“What was that?” Erin asks.

“Some cop driving crazy. So, do you want food or what? I could just pick something up I guess.”

“Yea, sure. I don’t care. I’m fucking freezing in here.

Don’t leave the window open all day. Please.”

“It was really hot today while you were at work. Sorry.”

“Okay, Dan.”

“I’ll be back soon. Bye.” I hang up. In front of me an old lady pushes a shopping cart filled with garbage bags. The light has turned green but she’s still in the crosswalk, blocking me. I roll the window down and wait and try to hear everything I could possibly hear from the city.

-

I’ve just parked. I dig around my front seats for some gum, anything to hide my breath. I find crumpled receipts and a couple water bottles with small puddles left at the bottom of them, which I down. I get out, holding a bag of fries and burgers. Within a couple steps, Erin walks out the apartment. She’s wearing grey sweats and a white long sleeve shirt, her hair down. She looks amazing. I make sure not to get close or she’ll smell my breath.

“Hey babe. I got you some fries from Roundin’ Third.” I hold the bag out. She doesn’t take the food. She looks over my shoulder.

“Dan, your front headlights are on.”

“What?” I turn around. God dammit. I turn back around with a smile. “Oh, thanks babe.” She hesitantly takes the food. I walk to my car. She stays cemented in her place.

“You did that last night too,” she says. I remember fragments of last night. Parking, quietly walking into our room. Turning away from her in bed so she wouldn’t smell me.

“They weren’t on when I walked out here to start work.” I turn off the headlights. I start gathering all the empty water bottles. I’ll recycle. That looks good.

“Because I turned them off, Dan. Before I went to work this morning, I went back inside my room and took the keys from your pants and turned off your headlights. And I also found a six- pack in the backseat.” She turns around, heads inside.

“Can you help me with these?” I cradle the water bottles like a newborn. She slams the door. I take a few steps then figure what the fuck. They bounce against the concrete then lay still. I can’t go inside yet. There’s nothing I want in there. I jump in my car, not starting it. I sit in the dark. Everything feels better in the dark. I reach behind my seat and feel the warm six-pack. They will taste like shit, but I can ignore it. I am good at ignoring. I am good at loving strangers, but not good at loving anyone who loves me. I close my eyes and see freshly painted blue and white houses. Maybe Rachel is awake now. Maybe she’s sitting in front of her TV, thinking scrambled thoughts. Maybe she misses me. Do I want her to remember tonight? Do I want her to remember me?

My phone vibrates. A text from Erin. “So, are you coming in or what?” My car is the only thing I own. I think I’ll stay in here tonight. I can do whatever I want in here. I reach back, grab a beer, open it, and take a big gulp. There are no lights on inside our apartment. It’s a warm night with a warm beer. I close my eyes and think of Rachel opening her front door with a smile.

-

I wake to tapping on my window. Empty beer in my hand. Through dirty streaks I see an old man. He walks around the neighborhood a lot, asking people if they want their car window’s washed. I usually don’t have anything to give him. I roll the window down halfway.

“You okay son? What you doing here?”

“Just resting man. What’s up?”

“Don’t you live right there?” He points a crooked finger at our apartment.

“Yea I do. Just chilling in here for now.”

He grins sheepishly.

“Okay okay. Wash ya windows for ya son?”

“Nah man, I’m good.”

He steps back and inspects my car. He has a dirty rag in one hand, and a clear spray bottle with blue liquid in it in the other. He usually has a bike, but I don’t see it around.

“I don’t think you’re so good. I can barely see inside this here.” He runs his index finger along the window, then shows me his darkened finger. “You got dirty windows son. But I can clean’em, you know me.”

I scratch my eyes, look around my car. There are three empty bottles on the floor of the passenger seat side. In the backseat there are three empty slots in the pack but two unopened bottles, the streetlight shimmering off their physiques. I turn to the old man and remember the dollars in my pocket. “How much you want?”

“I’ll clean’em first; you pay me what you feel after okay?”

I sigh deeply and scratch my eyes, then really look at him. “Fuck it.”

I grab the beers and hop out. I take a seat on the curb across the street. He goes to work. I crack a beer. He doesn’t just spray and wipe; he sprays, wipes, sprays again, wipes again. He attacks the same window from different angles. His work is humbling. He’s even going in on the tires. The streetlamp shines on him. He was meant to be here.

“What happened to your bike?”

“Ain’t nothin. Had to give it back is all.”

“You were borrowing it?”

“Someone needed it, so they took it while I was doin my bidness in the bathroom over there at Ralphs.”

The lights have turned back on in the apartment. Maybe she’s watching.

“So they stole it from you?”

“Nah. I just gave it back. Like when my wife died. The almighty took her back. Ain’t nothin ours in the first place.”

“Hm.”

He doesn’t look at me while he works. You could see through the windows for the first time in forever. He lifts the windshield wipers, runs the rag up and down them. He looks at the rag, shaking his head.

“No wonder you out here by yoself.”

“I don’t mind it.” I almost throw up my swig.

“mmmhm.”

The old man wipes his forehead with his shirt sleeve and leaves the only things he owns on the ground.

“Car’s cleaner than it’ll ever be,” he says.

“You’re right. I haven’t cleaned that shit in months.”

“Man don’t you got a lady? I’ve seen her round here. She gotta hate that dirty car.”

“She doesn’t mind the car. She minds me though.” I reach in my pocket, feel a bill, pull it out. A twenty. I don’t remember getting it. I look at the old man. He’s just as surprised.

“Here you go man. Thanks.”

He doesn’t take it.

“She mad at you?”

“Yea.”

“Take her out with that,” he nods at the bill.

“It’s not enough.”

He looks at the twenty, then to me. He chuckles, grabs my keys from off the ground, then swipes the last beer.

“I tell you one thing.”

He opens the beer.

“Whatever you do, clean that car first. Then..”

He takes a swig, grimaces, shrugs, tosses me my keys, and walks toward his rag and spray bottle. He picks them up in one smooth motion and continues down the dark street. When he’s out of the streetlights reach, I can still make out his wiry body, strolling along empty concrete.

I get a text from Erin. “Lock the door whenever you come in. Thanks.”

I take in my car. It’s never looked cleaner. My car will probably never look this clean again. No matter how many times I wash it.

But I can try.

I head inside.