The yellow sticky note on the kitchen counter left little room for misinterpretation.
“Aaron: clean your shit up. Now.”
Aaron Gordon didn’t need a name to know who wrote it. Blake. Aka Professor Kent, the Brazilian-jiujitsu teacher who’d kindly taken Aaron into his home, a home he shared at the moment with two women and an older guy—all victims of domestic abuse. And apparently, Aaron had repaid his kindness by making a mess. Again.
He looked around the well-used kitchen and winced. His stuff was everywhere. He’d left his backpack on the floor, his shoes next to the back door, and his dirty dishes on the counter. He’d even forgotten to throw the carton and plastic from the microwave meal he’d devoured for dinner yesterday in the trash.
A check of the living room revealed the same. The sleeve of the Xbox game he’d played was still on the table, as was the magazine he’d been reading, and the wrapper of his candy bar. He’d even discarded his dirty socks on the floor, right under the coffee table.
The kitchen and living room were common areas, meaning everyone could use them. It also meant you weren’t supposed to leave personal stuff lying around. Aaron had his own cabinet in the kitchen where he could store food and china—if he’d had any. His room also had a large closet for his stuff. It wasn’t even half-full. All he had left were his clothes. He’d sold his furniture and everything else when he’d lost his job and had to cancel the lease on his apartment in a DC suburb. His clothes and his car were all that remained from the up-and-coming lifestyle he’d once had.
He needed a job. Desperately.
But first, he needed to clean up his stuff. His shit, as Blake had put it, though words like that still did not come easily to Aaron. It was the result of a conservative Christian upbringing, strict parents who did not tolerate that kind of language. He’d never even uttered curse words till a few months ago.
He cleaned up the kitchen first, making the extra effort of wiping down the entire counter after doing his dishes. The living room was little work, which made him feel even guiltier he’d left his stuff there.
It was hard to think of things like that when he’d never had to. His mom had always cleaned up after him, and when he’d lived on his own, nobody else had been around to see. He’d cleaned up maybe once a week, once every other week if he’d been busy. He couldn’t do that here, not in a house he shared with others—as Blake had explained to him multiple times in the last couple of weeks. He felt like such a kid when the guy did that, even though they were only ten years apart. And the fact that Aaron had forgotten again, had received this publicly visible reminder from Blake, man, it made him feel like a total loser. A fuck-up, was the better word.
He tasted the foreign, rude word on his tongue. Fuck-up. Yup, that was exactly what he was. An utter and complete fuck-up. And he’d managed to disappoint Blake once again, the man who’d taken him in weeks ago and had asked for nothing in return. Not even rent—which Aaron wouldn’t have been able to pay anyway, but that was beside the point. Blake deserved better.
Aaron looked around the living room. It could do with a bit of cleaning, actually. The kitchen too. It wasn’t gross, but there was dust, and both the tile floor in the kitchen and the hardwood floors in the living room could use a good mopping. Should he? Yeah, that would make up for his slovenliness.
It took him two hours, but by the time he was done, the kitchen was sparkling and smelling of the lemon-scented cleaner he’d used, and the living room was dust-free. He’d even vacuumed the couch cushions, finding a condom packet when he did. Was it Blake’s? He’d never seen the guy with a woman so far, but who knew.
He admired his cleaning work, satisfied he’d done a good job. At least Blake would be happy with him now. He checked his watch. Two o’clock. That late already? Huh, he must have slept in again.
Oh, crap! He was supposed to meet Blake at the jiujitsu studio at two to help him with some stuff. He’d completely forgotten.
He got changed in a hurry and ran out the door. The studio was close, but he still didn’t arrive till fifteen minutes past the agreed time.
“You’re late,” Blake greeted him when Aaron hurried in. He was dressed in tight gray training pants and a form-fitting black shirt, looking good as always.
Aaron’s shoulders slouched. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time. I cleaned the living room and the kitchen?”
Blake’s face softened. “I appreciate that, Aaron, but we had an agreement you’d be here at two.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He stared at the floor. Even when he wanted to do the right thing, he still messed up. Yup, total fuck-up.
“Look, I know things haven’t been easy for you, and I get that you needed some time to figure things out. Time’s up. You need to get your shit together, Aaron, because I have no patience for people who don’t keep their promises. I need to able to count on you, trust that your word means something, you feel me?”
Much to his embarrassment, Aaron felt hot tears burning in his eyes. Life sucked so very badly at the moment. Would it ever stop? He swallowed, determined to fight back the tears. “You’re right. I’m trying, but I don’t know where to start. It’s all so overwhelming.”
“Do you want my help?”
His head jerked up. “Of course, I do!” What kind of question was that?
Blake’s expression was kind. “You haven’t asked for it, so far.”
Aaron frowned. Why would he have to ask for help? Couldn’t Blake see he needed it? Why would he make Aaron go through the humiliation of having to explicitly ask for it? “I didn’t realize I had to,” he said.
“And there is arrogant Aaron again.” Blake shook his head. “Boy, you know how to push my buttons, don’t you?”
Aaron shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, feeling infinitesimally small. “I don’t mean to,” he said softly.
“I know, which is the only reason I let you get away with it. What you need more than anything is an attitude adjustment. You have this sense of entitlement that rears its ugly head all the time. Until you get rid of that, you’re not gonna get far, boy.”
“I’m not a boy. I’m twenty-four.” It was all he could say when his soul felt like it had been cut to shreds. He’d never realized how much Blake didn’t like him.
Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Then fucking act like it. You’re entitled to shit, and the sooner you realize that, the better. If you want something, anything, you’re gonna have to work hard for it. And you’d better learn how to ask for help, because people aren’t lining up to help you.”
He would not cry. He clenched his fists, biting back his tears with all he had. “I need help. Please.” It didn’t come out as nicely as Blake might have wanted, but it was the best Aaron could do right now. He even managed to look Blake in the eye, saw a flicker of something he couldn’t identify.
“All right, then. Let’s get to work. Since you seem to enjoy cleaning, why don’t you start by dusting and vacuuming the entire studio? After that, you can clean the big blue mat with a special cleaning product you’ll find in the cupboard below the kitchen faucet. Make sure it’s all done and dry before five because that’s when the kids’ lesson starts.”
Aaron’s mouth dropped slightly open. When Blake had said he could use Aaron’s help, this was not what he had in mind. He’d thought it was a quick job, like hanging up a picture or something. Not hours and hours of cleaning, and especially not after he’d already done the kitchen and living room at home. Besides, he’d asked the guy for help. How did cleaning help him?
“I don’t get it. How does this help me?”
Blake sighed. “Remember what I said about you not being entitled to shit? You’ve lived in my home for almost a month now, without paying rent. Think that’s what you’re entitled to? Think again. Until you’re able to pay rent, you can work it off. Now, get your ass to work, because I have more to do.”