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ELIZABETH
I squeezed my eyes tight before opening them. Someone gently shook my shoulder. I turned my head to see who it was.
The evening sunlight crested down past the buildings around us while the sun created a silhouette. Was the man my husband?
Leaning forward on the hard cement step, I rubbed my eyes to see better and yawned, covering my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I'm sorry, miss. There's no loitering here. You need to keep walking. I think they have a shelter down a ways but it's not near here.” He was kind as he spoke and I took that as a good sign.
As his words penetrated my traveling fog, I blinked several times, startled. “Are you Tyler Manning?”
“No. I'm his neighbor.” He settled back onto one leg and folded his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m his wife. I'm just waiting for him.” I didn't have a lot of time to explain, it wasn't even that I didn't have time, it was more I didn't have the energy. I was hungry and tired and frustrated that my husband had completely abandoned me.
“You must mean Jay.” He laughed and nodded his head like he had it all figured out. “Because let me tell you there's no way Tyler Manning is married. He's the consummate bachelor. Plus, if you were Jay's wife – which you're not – I would know because I've met her.”
All the different names mixed together and the guy spoke in some kind of weird accent I'd never heard before but that reminded me of Jim Syeung – the Laundromat owner back home.
As the sun dipped even lower and left the world in normal lighting, his accent made sense. He had an Asian tinge to his skin and the nice black silky hair that the people from the Orient were so lucky to have.
I rubbed my eyes again, sitting up straighter. “I'm sorry, I'm really confused. We just got married. Are you saying he's a bigamist?” I brushed the dust off my pants and stood. Leaning against the post – I was not going to lean against the rickety railing – I waited for him to clear up the puzzle I couldn’t escape.
The neighbor twisted his head as he looked at me mostly with one eye. “Are you one of those college kids? Are you on drugs?” His suspicion was starting to get on my nerves.
I laughed, shaking my head. “I wish. That would be so much simpler. I wish there was something that would explain what I'm doing here.” I glanced at the house. “I'm Tyler's wife. We just got married, um... two days ago? Three days ago? I haven't even met him yet. It’s hard tracking time today.”
The man jerked back, pulling his chin closer to his neck and giving himself an odd double-chin appearance on a very skinny man. “Tyler is married? No, you don't understand. He's really too busy with his business to marry anyone. I barely know the guy and their mom lived here about fifteen years. Jay on the other hand is a talker. That guy is more of a gossip than my old grandma and that’s saying something.”
I reached out my hand to introduce myself when a brand-new navy blue Ford Mustang pulled up, parking on the street. My face slackened in shock. Who would do that? A Ford Mustang on the street? I wanted to throw up.
“Looks like your guy’s here. I'll let you sort this out.” The gentleman pointed towards the house next door and stepped down a couple stairs. “I'm the neighbor. I'm sure I'll see you around.”
“Thanks.” He disappeared down the stairs and up the sidewalk behind a nice leafy bush.
Oh, there was no confusion anymore. I was mad and I was ready to say something to him – my husband.
A man dressed in a double-breasted black pinstripe with a bright orange tie over a white dress shirt climbed from the dark blue Mustang and closed the door.
The bleep-bleep of the car alarm and flashing lights when he pushed the alarm button felt like a boxing round bell, telling me it was time to start. I stepped down onto the next step and opened my mouth to let Tyler Manning know I did not appreciate being relegated to side business.
But I didn't get the chance, which was saying something for me. I always got the chance.
A man – who I could only assume was Tyler – rounded the front of the Mustang and started yelling at me before he even reached the driveway. “You were supposed to wait for me. I missed two meetings looking for you. I walked the entire airport four times and then I checked baggage, and then checked the taxi area. What were you doing? Obviously you were here.”
I did wait. What I wasn’t going to do was deal with someone else's lies. If he had been there on time, he would've found me. Especially if he did the things that he said he did.
I thrust my finger toward the ground and stepped forward just enough I put myself in a more stable stance but not to pull me down or up the stairs. I was not giving up my higher position. “I waited longer than I should have. I walked around looking for you. Then I paid for a cab ride from San Francisco to here. It wasn't cheap. Nothing about this whole thing has been very affordable. My stuff was stolen in the airport bathroom. You had all of my flight times. When I was coming in and where I was coming from. Why did you make me wait? I didn’t have any other option but coming here. I wasn’t sleeping at the airport!”
Something I said in the whole mess brought him up, and he stopped. Furrowing his brow, he pulled the phone from his pocket and swiped through which just irritated me more.
What was he doing playing on his phone in the middle of trying to figure out what was going on? I did not think any of it was funny. I was about to pick up a rock or tear off a branch from the bush beside me and throw them at him. He was lucky I didn't have any wrenches or pliers with me.
“I'm confused. I have your flight information right here...” His voice trailed off and he dropped his hand with the phone in it to his side. Rolling his eyes, he leaned his head back. “You went to San Francisco. I live in Oakland. Why did you go to San Francisco?”
This was not my fault and he was not going to make it mine. He wasn’t going to make me yell. Nope. Not right in that moment. “The address I was supposed to go to is the one that is above your profile on the site. The one that is listed in San Francisco, which by the way is not even an address.”
Tyler gritted his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticked. “Oh, great. The address is my brother’s. Well, actually it's a convoluted mess of my brother’s address.”
He shook his head and walked carefully towards me, his hand outstretched. “I'm sorry, this was all my fault. I forgot to change the address after I got a match. I wasn't sure who was able to see what so I left the initial addresses and stuff kind of like a private measure, if you will.
“I didn't realize it was going to cause a problem. I should've thought to change that. I'm really sorry.” He was obviously chagrined, but I couldn’t be sure how much.
My frustration and tiredness had controlled my emotions, which wasn’t normal for me. The move, traveling, and everything else piling on me combined together and I really just wanted to go lock myself in the garage and beat something with a hammer. Preferably nothing living, but something made of a soft wood that accepted dents and dings easily.
Tyler mounted the steps, moving closer to me. His skin was shadowed with late afternoon stubble which only enhanced the strength of his jaw and the aristocratic shape to his cheeks. His nose sloped and his eyes captivated me.
What had I gotten myself into? The man exuded confidence and charm. I wasn’t prepared to be disarmed by him.
Keys he pulled from his pocket jingled when he moved toward the door. “Why don't you come inside? We could at least get comfortable after a day like today.”
My frustration wasn’t so easy to dispel. I didn't want to go inside with him. I was mad and I didn't really have a way to vent. “I need a minute. I don't want to go inside with you right this second.” I realized I sound like a petulant child, but everything was out of my control.
The only thing I had absolute control over was not going inside the house.
He turned when he reached two steps below me, putting our eyes on the same level as mine.
I thrust my jaw to the side and tried not to let my exhaustion rule me.
“Why not? You're going to stay out here the rest of the night?” Whether he did it intentionally or not, his voice grew husky with our proximity and his eyes scanned my face.
Clearing my throat, I allowed my candor to speak for itself – which it usually did whether I wanted it to or not. “Maybe. I just know I’m upset.” At least I could get points for being honest, or I should.
Nodding his head, my husband who wasn’t acting like my husband nodded gravely. “I’m Tyler Manning. Please, forgive my lack of manners.” He held out a hand with square nails and a broad palm. “We might want to start fresh, since we’ll be living together for a while.” He flashed a half-smile which showcased white teeth and soft lips.
I blinked. Was I going to keep being surprised by him? It would prove to be a long life with him. “I'm sorry, I'm just... It's been a long day. Plus... Have you seen this place?”
He looked over my shoulder and took in as much of the house as he could from his position. Almost embarrassed, he nodded. “Yeah, I've seen this place. I grew up here. But why would that have anything to do with you going inside? I promise it’s not dirty inside.” He turned questioning brown eyes on me. His blondish hair had been cut short but showed off the angles of his jaw.
I was serious when I said he reminded me of the main guy in Suits. I couldn’t remember his name for the life of me, even though I had a distinct impression that maybe I was married to the man.
“Why, indeed... Okay, let's, just for a minute, pretend like you can't see this place. Let me tell you what I noticed right when I walked up and then as I got closer. Now, if I was a buyer, these things would be a deal breaker. On their own. Add them all together, and you're talking about having some serious safety issues on your hands. I bet you’re not having very many potential buyers, am I right?”
He didn’t answer, just watched me with wide eyes as I spoke. I took that as a sign to continue.
Arching my eyebrow, I cocked my head to the side and lifted my fingers to tick off the items as I listed them. I turned and pointed as I talked, warming to my topic. “You have a sagging porch which may or may not be from the support beams underneath, it may be from rotting wood, hard to tell from here.”
There’s a sign of more rotting support beams over there underneath your banister and your porch or balcony or whatever you’re trying to pass that monstrosity off as. There's cracked plaster all over the place which may or may not be a sign of mold. You have rust anywhere there's metal. That's not good. You have cracked doors, your hinges are unstable, and I don’t think you need those keys. I bet I could jimmy that lock open with a pencil. The list is so much longer than that. I charge for consults like this and let me tell you I would actually stop right now, hand the inspection over to you and tell you that your remodeling fee would probably be worth more than the whole house on the market. I'm not going to lie.”
He sighed, putting the keys back in his pocket and folding his arms. “Okay. I can appreciate the honesty. That was a lot to take in, though. I've had more than my fair share of estimates and not one of them was that thorough. You do this kind of thing back home? Are you into real estate or something? You’ve only seen the front stairs.” He looked up, finally turning his back on the house and moving to take a seat on the steps.
I watched him. What was he doing?
He rested his elbows on his knees and dangled his hands between them. “Well, if you don't want to come inside, what do we do? I've got work to do to catch up from today. You sure you don't need to take a shower or something?”
I arched an eyebrow. As attractive as he was, I wasn’t confident in his mental stability. What man in his right mind asked a woman if she needed to shower and he didn't know her? Certainly not a sane one.
“I can go inside. I'm just warning you I don't think I'll survive the night.” Of course, I was joking, but it took a special person to understand my humor. Plus, I was too tired to argue or even care. If I died while I was sleeping, so be it.
Tyler gave me some quizzical looks. “I ordered a pizza. I’ve got work to do like I said. I put you in the upstairs bedroom with a big lofty area with a bathroom. You can have the entire upstairs for yourself.” He stood and jingled his keys as he returned them to his pocket. “Is upstairs okay?” He took a few steps up and turned back to look at me as he waited for my answer.
I was finally subdued. I hadn’t gotten really much of any kind of reaction from him and I had no idea what was going on in his head.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I tucked my thumb into the side of my fanny pack strap. I could get a shower and fall into bed. Maybe tomorrow I would wake up and realize I had never left Kansas. Or Arkansas as it was.
San Francisco was turning out to be the weirdest Oz I'd ever been in.
