My Soon-To-Be Sex Life by Judith Tewes

Author:Judith Tewes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2014-05-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

I poured myself a glass of milk. I’d barely slept that night, my mind going around and around the information I’d learned at dinner. I’d finally given up fighting my insomnia and had been awake for several hours before it was time to leave. I’d spent most of the morning organizing the Polaroid photos Monty kept hidden away in drawers. I’d even discovered a few boxes in the basement with way older photos, not taken with an instant - neat little black and whites.

“Where you off to?” Monty let out a loud yawn as he entered the kitchen wearing plaid slippers and a ratty green housecoat. Mona shuffled along after him. Sat in the middle of the room and began to scratch her ear with her back leg.

“School. It’s Monday.” I lifted a glass to my lips and drained the last of my milk. “I thought you might like a warm breakfast.” I nodded toward the frying pan and coffee maker. “There are pancakes and coffee. The pancakes, I can vouch for, Mom taught me to make the very best, but the coffee…” I grimaced. “I wasn’t sure about the grinds to water ratio.”

As he glanced around the kitchen, the sleepy expression slid from Monty’s face.

His eyes darkened as he turned away from the table and the stacks of photos I’d been organizing. He focused on the black sludge in the coffee pot. “Don’t drink the stuff, so it don’t matter.”

I put my glass in the dishwasher. “But I found three coffee makers in the bottom cupboard. And a bunch of coffee tins.”

“I said I don’t drink coffee. Stopped in 96. Doctor’s orders.” He crossed the floor, flicked the gurgling machine off with an angry snap, and dumped the sludge down the drain. “Those tins are near twenty years old, this is probably poison.” Steam fogged the window over the sink. Monty’s voice hardened. “I didn’t ask you to make breakfast for me. I didn’t ask you to go through my old pictures. And I certainly didn’t ask you to stay here. If you want to have a roof over your head, keep out of my stuff.”

“I was just trying to help.” Tears stung the backs of my eyes. I retreated into the hall.

“Oh hell, Charlie.” Monty’s anger faded, the tension around his eyes eased. His gaze sliced to the photos. “Some things are better left tucked away.” He gripped the back of a chair.

“I’ll put it all back where I found it.” I hadn’t been thinking, as usual. Most of the pictures from the basement were of my grandmother. Monty had obviously stored them down there for a reason and then I went and dragged them back upstairs and scattered them over his kitchen.

“No.” Monty picked a photo off the nearest stack, his voice soft. Distracted. “I’ll do it.”

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