Page 86 of Counting the Days

Steve cocked his head to the side. Instead of walking away, he stayed and listened, as if hearing about Rhea’s life had become a little less unbearable. Rhea watched the sun set behind the Santa Monica Mountains; the dark blue sky was brushed with pink clouds. She decided Danny was right:It is a special yard, and the view is incredible.

75Days

Rhea waited until the lastpossible second to go door-to-door and collect supplies for the coalition. She was due at the monthly meeting in three hours and was tempted to just go to Target and buy all the things they’d mentioned, but she worried the clothes would not look used enough.

She briefly researched how to make new clothes look worn but decided she was being ridiculous and mustered all her bravery to venture out into the neighborhood. As she hiked up her steep street and knocked on the first door, she felt terrified of meeting strangers but also excited to learn what went on inside all the houses she had driven past for years.

It turned out her neighbors were perfectly nice, and most of them were close to her age. They all gave her at least one of the items on her list, and most of them asked to exchange numbers so they could keep in touch. The woman who lived next door was a rock-climbing instructor and invited Rhea to come to her climbing gym for a free session. Rhea’s ego fed her images of sculpted climbing arms and the look on people’s faces when she told them she was a rock climber. She wished she had gathered the courage to meet her neighbors years ago.

“Wow, it’s so cool you’re doing this. I wish I volunteered more,” the man at the end of the block said.

He gave her a large bag of clothes and a smaller bag of canned food. She walked back to her Prius and loaded all that good karma into her trunk. She could not remember a time when she’d felt prouder of herself. She pulled up to what she decided should be the last house, since her car was almost full and the meeting started in thirty minutes.

She imagined herself strutting into the meeting after taking many trips to her car to unload all of her bounty; surely, she had broken some kind of record in supply gathering.

“Let’s not make this meeting about me,” she would have to say. “Let’s focus on what really matters: changing the world.”

She knocked on the door of the last house, and a woman opened it. She looked older than Rhea. Her hair was perfectly coifed, and she was well-dressed, Rhea correctly guessed, in black The Row slacks with a white Nili Lotan blouse.

Rhea explained her heroic mission in the neighborhood, and the woman said, “Oh, yeah, of course, come on in, lemme grab some stuff.”

Rhea entered the house, and the woman told her to have a seat on the couch. The woman disappeared, and Rhea sat near a six-year-old boy playing with clay on the floor.

“Hello, what’s your name?” the boy asked.

“I’m Rhea. What’s your name?”

“Henry…I’m making a volcano.”

“I can see that. It’s very cool.”

The woman reentered, and Rhea learned her name was Theresa. She worked from home as a web designer, and Henry was her only child.

“Want some strawberry-cashew milk?” Theresa asked.

“Oh, no, thank you,” Rhea said.

“You sure? It’s organic and raw.”

Rhea did not know if that meant she should say yes but decided to do so and not be rude. Theresa pulled a glass pitcher of pink, milky liquid out of the refrigerator and poured glasses for herself, Rhea, and Henry. Rhea sipped the creamy beverage while Theresa bagged up canned goods and old toiletries.

“Can I take your glass?” Rhea looked up and saw Henry standing in front of her.

He carried their glasses to the sink, climbed up a stool, and began washing them. Theresa noticed Rhea staring at Henry.

“How did you get him to do that?” Rhea asked.

“Oh, he’s been washing dishes since he was two. I used to put a bucket on the ground with soapy water, and we made a game out of it. When Henry grows up, I want him to think of cooking and cleaning as part of life, like showering or getting dressed; it makes entering adulthood way less challenging. Kids are capable of a lot more than people think. Do you have kids?”

“No…” Rhea considered ending it there, but Theresa was so warm and forthcoming, she decided to follow her lead. “I want them, but I…haven’t been able to find the right person yet.”

“Oh, you don’t need the right person. You can do it on your own. I did. Henry doesn’t have a father.”

Rhea looked over to see if Henry had heard this over the sound of the faucet; if he had, he did not seem offended.

“Like, heneverhad a father?” Rhea asked.

“Nope, I went to a sperm bank. Got tired of waiting for the right person. And honestly, if I’d known how easy it was gonna be, I would’ve done it years ago.”