Chapter 5 Five

5

As the evening approached, my stomach was filled with the sounds of "this is beyond amazing." "I have never cooked this well," I exclaim as I stuff my face. I would never been clean while eating at home until I saw his facial expressions. I stopped eating and wondered, "Am I doing something wrong? "Is there something on?" He took a napkin and moved it to me. My face will permanently turn red. With all the speed I was going, I needed to work on making myself less embarrassed. "Sorry, I swear I am hygiene clean; I just enjoy good food," his posture remained unchanged, which was unusual. He was sitting straight, with his hands not touching the bowl and his elbows not resting on the table. Yes, he was using a spoon, unlike me. I had my feet crossed Indian-style and was ripping the stake with my hands. I ate my mashed potatoes with a fork, my jacket was tied around my waist, my elbows were on the table, and so on. "I feel like we are opposites in this eating arrangement." You sure you want to get to know me because I promise I go downhill with many of my mannerisms," he stayed quiet during my talk but was done with his soup; once he placed his bow a bit high, he cleaned himself to reply me, "I was aware you would be messy, manners I am sure you have, but our classes are different, and you have a very different lifestyle as a result," I stayed quiet. If only he knew it was not true, I would choose to stay this way. There is no point in fixing something that could kill me. I tried for years, but it did not go well. As the elderly lady took his plate and sat another with ice cream, he inquired, "Tell me something about yourself that you would like to tell me?" That fit came to mind when my cell vibrated. I raised one finger, saying in silence, "Give me a moment," and texted these two dumb friends and my mother to let them know I was still alive and eating with Marge. I was not ready to tell them about my fiasco yet, even though I should have because, let us face it, it was them. They dragged me from that hellhole. Even if I stayed alone, it was my choice in the end, up until now. "Well, so far you know I am in the middle class," he set his spoon back down, cleaned himself, then responded in seconds, stopping my train of thought, "no, you live in a middle-class apartment complex, you are not of that class." I looked at him serious, straightened myself a little, and replied, "How would you know I am not from the middle class?" He smiled and then pointed with both his eyes and his finger. "Your demeanor indicates that you are adapting to feel comfortable, and I looked into your information while I was changing clothes. Could you tell me who or what you are fleeing from?" I dropped my fork, and he gazed into my life. "That is illegal unless I gave you permission or the court ordered it, and I have no idea who the fuck you are. You were also hiding from someone." I did not feel like eating here earlier due to my embarrassment. I did not want to be here, even though the guy was smoking hot to talk to. This was extremely out of line. I set my feet down and began to prepare to leave when his phone vibrated with a text message. We went to look at the cell, and he placed it between us so I could see what it was. It was called Su, and it said, "plumbing, electrical, and cleaning are completed." I looked up at him and asked, "You cleaned my apartment?" He bit the inside of his cheek, so stinking cute: "Well, I should not be that rude. Clean means clean. I mean, shoot, my fault. Thank you for your extra consideration." I tried desperately to save my ass, but it made him smile a little, so that was a good start. He quickly responded to the guy, then said, "I am sorry for the bad manners, but I have a problem with not having a proper home. I am going out on a limb here. He said, returning to his normal state, "I just want to get to know you for you, and I am running from something complicated in order to survive. I do not want to deal with any more of that. I can trust you if you let me. I will not go through your belongings again. "I apologize for that." I despise how considerate he is of me, and I am torn about what to do, but perhaps this is not my past screaming, 'run out now you have a chance at freedom,' because he is not the same as my past. I took a deep breath and replied, "Tell me what you found out. I am not ready to discuss a lot of topics with you. Everyone has a past, but not everyone can admit to it in the same way. He nodded slowly, having finished his ice cream. I raised my index finger and looked at him, perplexed, "How in the hell do you not have a brain freeze right now?" He put the bowl back up like before, then said, "Military school does a lot to a teenager, and as for your early question. I know you are divorced from the military, but there is not much there because the US hides a lot of legal information. Finally, the documents stated that he was imprisoned but did not specify why. I gulped hard. He was aware of the most intimate secret I harbored. I sat back down feeling even more torn, now devastated, "a widow, you were in the hospital when you were 15 years old, having your kidney stones removed, and there the guy in the last days of cancer of barely 17 years asked to marry you, because he wanted to know how it felt to be married before he died, which was," I cut in his words to finish, "was three weeks later, yes I agreed to the terms because I knew the harshness of his life, we had a good long talk since I was He was also a good guy who had never lived a normal life since his diagnosis at the age of four; he died after his first kiss, married, and with his family in his home. That was the least I could do. My parents were out of my life by that timeframe, so I am fine with it," he looked at me, interested in what I had said, "your parents abandoned you from the age of 15, gave you legal advice, but signed the waiver to give you legal control over your life because your mother was in love with a guy who did not want you with her," I nodded while holding my lips together, Yeap. "Sucks because then a year later they got divorced," he laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, you have an exciting life, not to mention you have been divorced for the third time to a guy who declared himself gay after seven years of being together?" Really? Or did you know but fake it?" I did not laugh. Good thing he knew about Ted. That was never going to be a secret: "I knew Ted was gay. However, we needed to keep things simple, so we declared an open marriage after a year and a half. He kept dating guys until he fell in love and then moved to Providence Town, which is also a lovely place." He looked at me with interest. I returned his greeting with a friendly smile. When his cell phone's alarm went off, he sighed and took the phone, "guess that is my queue to go home," he swiped the screen and looked at me, "let me finish getting ready so that I can get you home," I nodded when the same elderly lady took my now empty plate and replaced it with a hot fudge lava cake, diabetes here I come, and Leo left to finish getting ready. At the same time, I devoured the lava cake, which was so big that it would have made me diabetic. After the last bite, I let out a moan. When I moaned, Leo appeared directly in front of me.