Little Green - Loretta Stinson

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      “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you inside. You’re pretty sick, huh?”

      She nodded. “You don’t have to stay. I’m okay now.” She fumbled for a key in her pocket.

      “Delores would knock my dick in the dirt if I went off and left you before you’re settled.” Paul steered her up the steps. He took the key when she missed the lock and opened the door. She ran down the hall to the bathroom, leaving Paul standing in the living room.

      Paul liked Dee’s place. He’d met her after Mia and before he left California for Washington. They lived together a couple of times when he’d needed a place to crash and she wanted help with the rent. Nothing romantic, though they did get in the habit of sharing a bed. Delores had been business on his part

      From the bathroom Paul heard Janie running water. He started a fire in the woodstove for something to do. Now that he was there, he wasn’t in any hurry to leave. He looked in the kitchen for teabags and bread, put the kettle on for tea, and put some bread in the toaster. Mia used to get sick with her periods. Paul always liked the feeling of taking care of her with little things like tea and toast.

      By the time he carried everything in from the kitchen, Janie was sitting on the couch in a plaid bathrobe and longjohns. He put the cup and plate on the coffee table.

      “You didn’t need to do all that.” Janie’s cheeks flushed.

      “Now I can tell Delores you’re all tucked in.” He thought for a minute. “You mind if I hang out for awhile? The quiet is kind of nice for a change. Want to smoke a joint?”

      “I better not.”

      The fire crackled, filling the silence. Paul felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. This girl didn’t try to make small talk or flirt with him. He looked her over as she licked the butter off her slender fingers. He surprised himself by reaching over and picking up her thick, wet hair. “You put conditioner on it?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Ought to comb it out before it dries.” Her hair was wavy with flecks of red from the firelight. “You have a comb?”

      Janie pulled a wide-tooth comb from the pocket of her robe and handed it to him.

      He put a pillow from the couch on the floor in front of him. “Now, I’ll deny I ever did this if anybody asks.” He smiled at her.

      Janie moved to the floor. “How do you know so much about hair?”

      He worked the tangles with his fingers. “I had a mean big sister. She used to make me comb her hair out and roll it up in orange juice cans. Besides, I got my own hair project going on.”

      Janie leaned back against the couch. “You’ve got nice hair.” She said it matter of fact, no extra message.

      “There’s an old hippie saying, ‘It’s not the hair, it’s the head it grows on.’ ”

      He pulled through the tangles, careful not to hurt her. They didn’t speak again. He felt her nod off. He helped her up on the couch and got a blanket from the closet. He carried the dishes to the sink, banked the fire with a big log, and put on his jacket. Her eyes were closed. She looked peaceful. For a second time Paul surprised himself. He crossed the room and bent low over her. Her hair was now almost dry in his hand. He bent down and put it to his nose, breathing her in. Her eyes blinked open, blue as freshwater, but she didn’t speak. He brushed her cheek with a calloused thumb and left before he could embarrass himself.

      Simple Twist of Fate

      FOR THE NEXT FOUR DAYS JANIE STAYED TUCKED UNDER a crocheted afghan on Dee’s couch. She slept, ate bowls of Cocoa Puffs, and watched TV with the volume off so Dee could sleep. Time slipped by. Janie was waiting for Paul.

      The day after he brought her home from the club, he showed up on his motorcycle. He didn’t knock, walked inside carrying an armload of wood, and built a fire. Then he stood in the living room shifting from foot to foot until she asked him if he wanted to watch Bonanza with her. It turned out Paul Jesse had a thing for Westerns.

      That first night Janie had been too sick to notice more than his kindness. The next afternoon she took in his features when he wasn’t looking. His hair was long and the color of taffy, worn in a thick braided rope that hung down to the middle of his back. He was tanned and had some weather to his face. His Fu Manchu was neatly trimmed, and dimples framed his mouth. His warm brown eyes had crow’s feet from laughing or squinting too hard in the sun.

      Every day he showed up just after Delores left for work and stayed until Janie fell asleep on the couch during Johnny Carson. He didn’t offer to comb her hair again. He didn’t touch her at all. He talked very little, but the silence between them was comfortable.

      Janie didn’t mention Paul’s visits to Delores. They were small in themselves and probably didn’t mean anything to anyone but Janie. She found herself holding her breath waiting for the sound of his bike on the gravel each afternoon.

      On Monday Janie knew she’d be well enough to go back to work. She hoped going back to The Habit wouldn’t end whatever was happening between her and Paul. That morning she made spaghetti like her dad used to make using a page torn from her mom’s cookbook. She almost never got a chance to cook and the times she had were special to her. Once she had her own home she would cook every day and love it.

      PAUL HAD NO idea what he was doing. Every day he told himself to get back to work and quit going to see that girl. Come three in the afternoon he’d get restless. He couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t concentrate. He’d get on his bike with every intention of heading over to The Habit to do some business, yet somehow he’d find himself pulling into Delores’s driveway to see the girl with the blue eyes, and the four freckles across the bridge of her nose, and the lips that needed no extra color, and the acres of wavy brown hair that smelled clean and shone like polished wood.

      When he walked through the door, his intentions disappeared. She felt familiar as old tunes on the radio. She didn’t talk much, but when she did she wasn’t coy and didn’t come on to him. She had a habit of twining her hair around her fingers when she watched TV. Anybody would think he had a crush on her but she was at least ten years younger than him.

      He parked his bike and went inside through the backdoor to the kitchen. She stood at the stove stirring red sauce. Her hair was pulled back, her face without make-up. Her worn shirt was almost the same blue as her eyes.

      “I hope you’re hungry.” She smiled at him. “I made my mom’s secret sauce. The secret is bacon. Don’t tell.” Janie lifted the spoon to her lips, blowing on it before she held it out to him. “Want a taste?”

      He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t look away from those eyes. Paul put his hand over hers, bending to bring the spoon to his mouth. He didn’t let go of her hand as he brought the spoon down. He didn’t look away.

      THE SMELL OF coffee and Delores stomping around woke Paul in the morning. Janie slept next to him, her breath deep and even. He got out of bed to go shut Dee up and get a cup of coffee to bring back. He’d like to lie beside Janie and watch her sleep awhile longer.

      Delores sat at the kitchen table tapping her cigarette into an ashtray. She stared as Paul poured himself coffee. Her voice was harsh. “What the hell are you doing here?”

      “Getting some coffee. What’s wrong with you?” Paul leaned back against the counter.

      “Are you sleeping with that girl?”

      “Is that your business, Dee?”

      “What happens in my house is my business.” Her voice rose.

      “Look, I didn’t plan on spending the night, and I didn’t figure it’d piss you off so much if I did.” Paul picked up his cup. “It’s too early for this. I’m going back to bed.”

      “Not in my house you’re not.”

      “Lighten

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