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Kali stood outside the apartment door. It was her seventh night with Lincoln. One whole week.
She had run out to buy some groceries for their dinner, for the first time leaving Theo at home with the man. Since tonight was Lincoln's last doctor ordered night off his ankle, her plan was to make something special. Tomorrow morning he could try walking—crutches free. After that, he said, they'd split the cooking.
Despite his protests, she'd made breakfast every morning. Dinner every night. And lunches the two days they'd all been home together. She was as helpful as she could be, as unassuming as possible, and hid her anger through it all. Anger that she needed to be in his apartment. Anger that she felt like an intruder—that he made her feel like an intruder.
Sometimes he'd get this look. This, What have I done? look. This, Why are these strangers invading my life? look.
Anger that her life, the life she'd planned, the life that was supposed to be so much better than the one she'd grown up with, had landed her here.
Despite the fact that he looked like a homeless person, it was obvious by the way Lincoln stood, moved, and spoke that he'd never been homeless. That the face he was showing to the world was some kind of front. He was educated. He held the air about him of someone who had never wondered where the next meal would come from. If he didn't finish the food on his plate he threw it out, rather than put it in a container for a later day. He had kitchen utensils from Williams-Sonoma. He didn't need to live in this shitty three hundred dollar a month apartment. He was choosing to live here—for a reason she couldn't fathom—and that made her angriest of all.
Kali raised her hand to the door knob then dropped it. She couldn't let her resentment show. It didn't matter what she felt, what she wanted. She had to do what was best for Theo, and right now living in the apartment of this strange man was best for Theo. Right now, seeming pleasant, making sure she didn't do anything to screw up their welcome, was what mattered. Because the truth was, if Lincoln hadn't come along, she didn't know what she would have done. For now, at least, she needed him ... or, rather, needed his apartment.
In the past week she'd scoured apartment ads and seen half a dozen. Anything close enough to have less than a half hour's commute was more than she could afford or no better than the place she'd come from. She could get a room somewhere, rather than an actual apartment. But if she had to live with a stranger, why not Lincoln, at one-hundred and fifty bucks a month? What was that saying—better the devil you know than the devil you don't?
And better Lincoln than another slum apartment.
What she needed was more money. Then she could find a better apartment. Then she'd move her son once more. Kali sighed as guilt bubbled up in her—relief quickly mingled with it. Some days she was happy Theo didn't speak. It meant he didn’t ask questions, meant she didn't have to explain any of this to him, just like she'd never had to explain the absence of his father.
She turned the door handle.
Laughter.
Lincoln and Theo sat on the floor. Lincoln with string ... no, shoelaces, looped around his fingers. He manoeuvred them almost magically. Cat's cradle. She hadn't seen it in years.
Theo reached his hands in and tried to take the strings the way Lincoln must have already directed him. His little tongue squeezed between his lips. He pulled the laces off Lincoln's fingers and onto his own. The laces unravelled and he laughed, his little dreads shaking around his face.
Lincoln looked up. “I'm trying to teach him—”
“Cat's cradle.”
“Yeah.” Lincoln looked back to her son. “Maybe next time, buddy. It's harder for you, your fingers are so small. Not these big monsters.” Lincoln held his hands above Theo, as if threatening tickles. Theo crawled away, laughing more.
Kali tensed, then pushed her uncertainty away. It was innocent. Definitely innocent. She put on a smile. “Can I give it a try?”
Lincoln looked surprised. “Sure. Yeah. Of course.”
“So is this what you do with your time? Instead of watching TV?”
“Not usually, no.”
He held out his hands, an immediate tightness between them.
Had her tone been critical? Accusing?
Kali sat across from Lincoln. She looked at the laces, calling back this childhood skill, then inserted her fingers between his, pulled, and stretched her hands.
“Right on.” Lincoln smiled, then took the laces off her hands. She examined them again, laced her fingers where they needed to be, and pulled. Theo clapped.
Kali looked at him and grinned.
Lincoln kneeled across from her and rubbed his beard. “This was always the trickiest one for me.”
Kali kept silent. Lincoln caught the laces with his fingers, then pulled. The material flopped in his hands. Theo covered his mouth and giggled.
“You remember that one?”
Kali shook her head. Lincoln untied the laces. “I guess at a moment like this YouTube would come in handy, wouldn't it?”
Kali pushed onto her knees and stood. “I'll get started on dinner.”
She left the two on the floor, swallowed, and looked back. He was so ... distasteful. With his hair and his clothes. He looked dirty, though he wasn't. He never smelled.
Still, she didn't want Theo getting close to him or thinking he was someone who mattered. But what was she supposed to do, tell the man who had jumped in front of a moving vehicle for her boy, then rescued them from living on the street, to stay away from her son?
Despite his offer, he clearly found their presence annoying—at times, at least. She peeked into the living room where Lincoln and Theo sat on the floor colouring. That first night she'd hooked up the TV, he hadn't said anything but the look, disgusted, like she'd taken a shit right in front of him.
That had disturbed her, made her wonder. But all week he hadn't said anything about her shows, just left the room. Not that she watched every night. She was cautious of that, just as she should be of him—cautious. She shook her head, remembering that look. It'd been a moment of frustration. Nothing, considering they had invaded his life, his space. And he'd let the frustration fade quickly. Still, it was enough, insulting enough, that she wanted nothing to do with this man past however many days or weeks she preyed on his charity.
Kali pulled out the chicken breasts and slammed them on the cutting board. She'd have to make it work. Do whatever she could, as best as she could, to make it work until she found a way to get out of here.
“Hey, Kali.” She turned at the sound. Lincoln was smiling. “Anything I can help you with?”
Kali hesitated. “No, this dinner's for you.” She turned back to the chicken. “Just relax.”
Kali woke moments before her alarm. She switched it off and stared at the ceiling. They'd laughed at dinner. Lincoln had made Theo laugh. A lot. He'd made a third chair a few days earlier. Built it so the three of them could sit and eat their meals at the same time. A chair for Theo, he'd said, winking at the boy, his own special chair, and Theo had beamed.
At the end of the meal he had teased Theo, leaning forward as if he were going to walk without the crutches. Bending. Bending. And then Theo would wave his arms no, point to Kali, get her to tell Lincoln not yet. He had one more day. He had to be a good boy.
It was weird, this play acting. What was the source of Lincoln's joviality? Getting free of the crutches—which he may still have to use from time to time? Or excitement about more freedom—being able to get away from her and Theo for longer? To drive again? Or, the worst option, excitement about getting his apartment back in only a few more days?
Before dinner last night, Lincoln had asked Kali how the apartment hunting was going. The end of the month was coming.
She'd lied. Great. Fabulous. She expected she'd found a place but others had applied too, so it was a waiting game to see who the landlord picked.
Lincoln smiled, looked pleased, said she must be eager to be done with him, have her own space again. She'd laughed, not telling him there was no apartment, that she needed to stay another month. Maybe two.
In reality, she'd stopped looking for an apartment. She was looking for a job instead. A solid job. And childcare.
She couldn’t tell him. What if he said no, she couldn't stay. It was easier to say sorry than please, to hope he wouldn't throw a single mom and her son out on the street.
Kali rolled over. Theo's perfect little lips pursed in his sleep. His brow furrowed. What she'd give to slip inside of those dreams, see what he thought about, dreamt about. See what he'd have to say.
It was all so complicated. The job had to be nearby. Not necessarily this neighbourhood, but close enough that she could check on Marvin regularly. Close enough that Theo would know him, and that he could watch the boy grow. Kali pulled Theo close and wrapped her arms around the boy's middle.
Just as she hoped Lincoln wouldn't abandon them, she couldn't abandon Marvin.
Kali kissed Theo's head then pushed herself out of bed. She watched him a moment longer. It was time for them to get separate beds—in a new place, with a new job and childcare. She'd make it happen, make life return to the path she'd always intended it to take.
Kali pushed open the door and padded down the hall. Coffee first, then a shower. She turned on the kettle and leaned against the counter.
“Morning.”
Kali jumped and let out a yelp. “What are you doing there?”
Lincoln gave a half grin with a raised eyebrow. “Drinking some tea. Reading a book.”
“You're usually asleep now.” She pulled at the hem of her oversized t-shirt, hoping no sign of underwear showed through, then crossed her arms over her bra-free chest.
Lincoln looked to be stifling a laugh. “I couldn't sleep. Too excited, I guess, to move without those crutches.”
Kali slid into the seat at the table across from him, eager for the cover it would bring. “And?”
“Weird. Very weird. My ankle feels stiff. Tender. But I'd say no pain.”
“That's good.” Kali laid her hands on the table then brought them back across her chest. “Be careful, though. Cautious. No running. No heavy lifting.”
“No heavy lifting?” Lincoln put his mug down. “I was actually planning to do some serious heavy lifting. Wielding an axe then carrying away tree limbs and maybe a trunk or two.”
Kali looked out the window. “It's your funeral.”
“You're saying it'll kill me?”
She turned back, unsure of the joke. “It may cause further damage. Your back, too. I mean wielding an axe? What do you think you are? A lumberjack?”
“My back's been fine for a few days.” Lincoln lifted his mug again. “The kettle's done.”
Kali bounced out of her chair, pulled at her shirt bottom, and glared at Lincoln.
The mornings were hers. He never emerged until she had breakfast ready. Sometimes not even then. This was her time. She wouldn't talk to him about staying longer. She'd just stay. And he could deal with it.
She also wouldn't sit across from him drinking her coffee, letting him stare at her chest. Not that he was staring, his smiling eyes were on her angry ones. Kali grasped her mug. “Well, I'm off to the shower.”
“With your coffee?”
“Yes.” She paused. “With my coffee.”