Page 184 of Hot Mess
He opened the door for me and I followed him inside. Slowly. What the hell was I walking into here…?
My fingers were laced through his and I tightened my grip. It was dark inside, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust to what I was seeing… which was basically a hoarder’s paradise.
There was a small living room, which I could only tell was a living room because of the old recliner and TV. I glimpsed them through a narrow corridor between the stacks and stacks of boxes overflowing with junk. There was a door at the far end of the room that led beyond. And a small kitchen off to the left. The whole house was tiny and bursting at the seams with junk.
It made the interior decorator in me absolutely itch.
“Arturo?” I whispered, clinging to Ashley’s hand.
“My granddad,” he said, nodding at the old man, who was now settling awkwardly into the recliner, muttering something hateful-sounding to himself.
“Oh.”
“What’s that, granddad?” Ashley prompted. “I can’t hear you.”
“I said, there’s too many Chinese around here now,” the old man grunted. “Did you know we got a Muslim family right down the road here? Next thing you know, the gays move in, and there’s a holy war on the block.”
“Yeah,” Ashley said, sounding bored. “Would really suck for you if the gays moved in and drove down the property value on this place, huh?”
“Damn right.”
I met Ashley’s eyes, and he drew a deep, silent breath.
“I thought gay people moving into the neighborhood droveupthe property value,” I whispered, hoping to make him smile. He hadn’t really smiled since we’d turned off the highway into Chilliwack.
I was rewarded with a small smirk.
I pointed at my sandals, likeShould I take these off…?But he shook his head and drew me into the kitchen.
A curtain was drawn over the lone window, and the room was dank, lit only by a greasy light over the stove. “What is he, senile now?” Ashley asked the man sitting at the kitchen table. I hadn’t even noticed him at first. “He’s bitching about property value and you don’t even own this place.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the man said, then glanced up. He’d been reading a newspaper spread out on the table, one of about a million that were stacked high in the corners of the kitchen. He looked at Ashley, and then me, his eyes widening. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a girl. I would’ve cleaned up a bit.” He closed the newspaper and folded it, as if that made the room more welcoming.
“Why do you even let him out of the house?” Ashley said. “He’s gonna get shot one day with all that garbage he spews.”
“Ah, good riddance,” Ashley’s dad said.
This man had to be his dad; the resemblance was there, even if you had to look for it. He had similar striking blue eyes and a sharpness to his features, but where the lines of Ashley’s face made him beautiful, his father’s just made him hard. His hair was a dull gray and he didn’t look like he’d ever been the beauty his son was.
Maybe the years had been unkind to him?
When he started clearing away a pile of newspapers from the chair closest to me, Ashley told him, “We’re not staying. I’m taking you out to eat, remember?”
His dad’s eyes fixed on me. “You’re not gonna introduce us?”
“This is Danica.” He was still holding tight to my hand. “My dad, Franco,” he told me.
I smiled. “Nice to meet you—”
“Dani—What?” Ashley’s dad interrupted me.
“Danica,” I said.
“What is that? Hebrew?”
“Uh… it is. But… I’m not.” It felt weird to say it. Like, would there be a problem if I were Jewish?
“She’s pretty,” he informed Ashley, still staring at me.
