Round Rock - Michelle Huneven [73]
Hearing movement in the room, she became as quiet as air. She would wait him out, stand there motionless, barely breathing until he peeked to see if she’d gone. A knob squeaked and a door swung open—the one next to Lewis’s. An old man, his gray hair matted in clumps, staggered into the hall, legs hobbled by the pants around his ankles. His shirttails didn’t quite hide his genitals. He gazed at Libby without seeing her, slumped against the wall, and, with great concentration, began urinating on the carpet.
LIBBY transferred ten wet loads into five huge dryers. Red and Billie showed up in time to help her fold. Libby was so happy to see them, she grew weepy. They were such good friends. And such lousy laundry folders. Billie had never folded a thing in her life, and thanks to his military training, Red was so ultraprecise and slow that he probably didn’t fold ten items total.
Afterward, they went to Happy Yolanda’s for burritos. As soon as they ordered, Billie’s beeper went off. “Don’t say anything interesting,” she told them, and left to use the pay phone.
Red asked Libby about her insurance—she always forgot he was a lawyer. “The only thing that worries me,” she said, “is whether I took Stockton’s name off the policy.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Red said. “If there’s a hitch, I’ll handle it for you.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Everybody’s being so nice to me.”
“Why shouldn’t they?” he said. “Anyone who knows you wants to be nice to you.”
“Not Lewis.”
“Lewis’s difficulties in that regard have nothing to do with you.”
Libby hated to cry. It hurt, and the back of her throat was already raw, her sinuses already ached. She put her head in her hands.
Red smoothed her hair. “Lewis is a fool,” he said. “A total fool.”
Libby, surprised by the force of Red’s words, pulled back to look at him.
“Aw, c’mon,” he said. “It’s no secret, Libby. Hell. Ever since the day Lewis made a date with you, I’ve been kicking myself for not getting there first. Not that I deserve the time of day. But I am grateful for the time you give me.”
This made her cry even harder, only this time it didn’t feel so bad. Less bitter, as if she were a fountain of pure emotion. Red put his hand under her chin and lifted her face. All she could think was how blotchy and swollen she must look. She ducked her forehead against his shoulder. His hand slid over her hair again, a caress so comforting and tender that she sobbed aloud. Red kissed the side of her head and she lunged up, out of her chair, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the lips.
He clearly thought it was just a friendly buss, but she insisted, mashing her opened lips against his. Let him be shocked. After a very long moment—long enough to understand she was probably making a total fool of herself—his arms rose up and encircled her, and he actively began to kiss her back.
They stopped, each took a breath, and then he kissed her: calmly, nicely. How had she never noticed his lips were beautiful, full and pale? She thought, fleetingly, she might actually pass out from all the emotions rampaging inside her, then remembered Huey Labette’s zydeco song “Fat Guys Are Great Kissers.” This made her smile mid-kiss, which Red felt. They stopped, pulled apart, his eyes amused and electric-blue. She sat back down in her chair. “Yikes,” she said.
“Likewise,” he said.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said.
“Don’t look at me. My face is blotchy.”
“Not too bad.”
“At least I stopped crying,” she said, and reached for his hand, which he gave over. They held hands, a moment of insane happiness. Truly insane. “I’m probably certifiable right now.”
“I feel pretty good myself,” said Red.
Whole geographies were shifting inside her, washed by tidal waves of fear. She retrieved her hand.
“I wish Billie would get back, because I have no idea what to say or do next,” she said. “Can we talk a little more about the insurance?”
“Sure.” Red smiled at her.
She dug in her purse. “I thought I should take this before anybody else saw it.” She held her fist under Red’s face. Opening