It is only as I am clearing the table and rinsing the ptes that it dawns ohat Heather did not own a dishwasher and I was going to have to wash them by hand. What a pain! But there was nothing for it. I told her I was going to do them and so I had to do them.

  As I am scrubbing away my mind begins to drift. I think about Bir and wonder if there was still a possibility of her taking me back. Maybe if we did things again, maybe if I became more active again, maybe if I cooked for her ae together like a real family, maybe…maybe… I sigh as I remember the hurtful, if ho, things she’d said to me before smming the door in my face. Would she ever take me back if that was how she felt about me? And even if she would…did I even want that?

  From there my thoughts turn to everything that happened sihe break up. Thinking baow it strikes me just what a sweet thing it was for Mrs. Hutton to offer a flower to a stranger she saw that was clearly having a bad day. She couldn’t have reized me at first given the distaween us. She simply saw a sullen young man and hoped thten his day. For a moment I sider that perhaps it had been a ploy to lure in a new ‘honey boy’ but the way she spoke it was as clear as day that that was something she hadn’t done in a long time. Probably since Mr. Hutton. I let out a ugh and shake my head. Honey boy. I was almost thinking about it like that was some normal thing. What in the hell was that stuff?

  The more I think about my etric host the less my focus fixates on her mysterious ‘honey’. Soft yet strict, supportive yet did , inspirational yet pragmatic, vulnerable yet tough, domineering but with empathy; she was unlike anybody I’d met before. She called me handsome. She called me cute. She said I had a nice ass. She did not have to say these things a she did. Even if she didn’t mean what she said it sure made a guy feel good to hear those things. And the way she touched me was so…nice. A rub of the shoulder, a stroke of the colr, a hug when I was feeling down. These simple, kindly, non-sexual moments of tact had more impae thahose wild fvors aions I experienced while uhe influence of her honey. Had Bir ever touched me like that? I couldn’t recall. I had to cast my memory back further to find something simir.

  Somewhere along the way my aimless daydreaming dredges up a happier time. I was standing at a sink just like this. There was a window in front of me, just like now, but instead of the side of Ms. Hancock’s house there was small yard brilliant white with fresh snow. In the ter is a snowman, his bright carrot he one spsh of color in the whole yard. Led Zeppelin is shaking the walls. My dad is to my left washing as I did the drying, both of us wiggling out hips in time with the hard drivi as from the living room mom is belting out her best Robert Pnt impressiohe drone of a vacuum. I’d never been so happy as whe our dishwasher. As I think ba it now…I couldn’t imagine why.

  “Hahhh.” I shake my head and wrench my straying mind bato the present. There was nothing to be gained from digging around back there but hurt.

  With the dishes washed, dried, and put away, the table and ter wiped , and the drying towel hung to dry where I’d found it I now stand iher’s kit looking around w what the heck to do . Normally I would have kicked bay puter and watched some videos or pyed a game. Since ‘my’ puter was actually Bir’s I no longer had that option. And without wifi I couldn’t even do muy pho was still so crazy to me that Heather didn’t have the i. How did she mahout it? At the very least old people usually had a television, but not her. I felt like I was in some sort of time or living museum of the 1940’s when this house was new.

  As my eyes cast about they find the microwave. Aha! There was something to do.

  In bare feet and pajamas I pad out to my car to nab my tools. As I do so I take a moment to admire the view of the park uhe gloaming sky. Here and there along the paths that criss-crossed through the green space the lights were already shining. Where there had once been so much ughing and cheering and people living in the moment there was now calm. Through the trees and shrubs I just make out the parking lot where I probably would have spent the night had my moping not been interrupted.

  Gripping my toolbox tighter I turn and walk bato the house with a purpose. On the ter I pull Heather’s microwave apart aract the piece I would o reporrow. I couldn’t be sure yet but I retty fident it would fix her issue. The clo the wall told me that barely a half an hour had passed. Now what?

  Not tired yet I stroll around looking for something to do. There were some magazines in the living room but nothing that caught my i. It was there I discover, of all the ued things, my own smiling face. In a er, in the ter shelf of a tall bookshelf filled top to bottom with family memories, I find a row of framed photos from Liam and Lily’s graduation. To the left was Liam in his cap and gown holding his diploma with that too familiar smug grin that had once haunted my nightmares. To the right his twin sister Lily in the exact same pose. ter right hoto of the big day with Mr and Mrs Hutton looking as proud as they could be as they fheir son and daughter in their graduation night finery. There oed a photo just like this of my parents and I. The people were different but those proud smiles were just the same. And finally was the css photo where I caught sight my own grinning mug among the rest of my graduating css. To anybody else I would have been just another face lost in the lines of other young faces, mine buried in the middle and just to the right. Unlike Liam who stood he ter at the back, one of the tallest in our cohort, or Lily who looked so lovely all the way to the left in the froed row I blended in with the crowd. Taking the picture I look at my younger self more closely to see that I was actually ughing in it as were others in that little area of the group. I’d fotten about that. The css alik, who was standing just to my left, had whispered a very inappropriate quip just as the photo was taken. I smile at the memory, a smile tinged with regret. How had that fresh faced teen ever found his way to be standing here as an unemployed mooch. So much potential, squandered.

  I set the picture back down and back away. ‘Don’t give up.’ ‘Keep w.’ ‘You are worth it.’ Heather’s pep talk echoes in my ears. I was only 25. Life hadn’t yet passed me by. I still had a ake things better.

  Inspired to do something, anything, I wander about looking for something to tidy or straighten or fix for Heather. Unfortunately she kept a house. In the washroom I give the ter a wipe and make sure I hadn’t left anything out of p the shower. All was good. As I turn to leave my refle, looking so different in a fresh haircut and pajamas, catches my eye. I stop and turn my eye for improvement onto myself. I prod the little bulge that formed just above my waistlihese past few years.

  ‘Body, not so bad.’ Heather’s voice echoes in my head. ‘Could use work but the potential is there. Wide shoulders, narrow waist, nice chest, elegant hands, cute bum.’ I look at my hands and turn them over. Elegant? I had elegant hands? This was o me. Turning around I chey backside. And a cute bum? Who knew? As I look, really look, I realize that…yeah. My ass wasn’t so bad, fuy. Turning back around I run my hands through my short hair and look hard at the face staring back at me. ‘Face, handsome. Make that extremely handsome.’ Heather said. ‘I’ve always had a thing for blue eyes and bck hair.’ Dad always was sidered a good looking man, and I was his spitting image. I guess I wasn’t so bad to look at. I mean, Bir must have seen something ihe smile that es reminds me of more of Heather’s words. “Smile, amazing. Those dimples of yours are adorable.’

  The more I looked the more I saw. I’d hit ro and had o nothing to my Heather had brought to light what I did have. I still had my youth, my health, my looks, and a ce to start again. These were things that some people would kill for.

  But, just like my employment situation, that pudge at my belly wasn’t going to take care of itself. With energy to burn and nothing else to do I head into my room, pull off my shirt, and start in on my first workout in ages. I keep it simple with a circuit of push ups, ches, body weight squats, and burpees. Hah! I was terribly out of shape but it actually felt good to get my blood flowing again! Why, oh why, had I ever let myself go?

  I was about 15 minutes into my workout when I hear the floor creak followed by a series of sharp inhaling breaths. Was Heather sniffing at my door? There es a soft rapping. “Elliot?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hutton?” I huff and pop to my feet.

  “Are you okay? I heard thumping and I thought…” I trot over and open the door. “Oh!” Her eyes widen as they catch sight of my sweaty torso. “Oh Lord! Put yourself away!”

  “Sorry.” I chuckle as I nab the pajama top from the bed. “I thought you’d seen it all before.”

  “Not retly!” She excims as she tears her gaze away. “My goodness.”

  “I was just w out.” I slip the shirt on but don’t bother with buttoning up. “I thought I’d burn off some energy before bed.”

  “Oh…um…right.” She peeks, briefly. “Do you always workout before bed?”

  “Starting tonight I do.” I say. “What you said to me, well, it, um, it meant a lot to me to hear that Mrs. Hutton. More than you could ever know. It sorta woke me up. Today woke me up. I’m gonna try to be a better man. Like you said, it won’t be easy but…I’m worth it.”

  “Oh. Well, good. Good!” She says, touched by my words but trying to hide it. “It was about damn time something woke you up. There’s nothing worse than seeing a good man goo rot. A terrible waste.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Okay…well…er…just…rinse off when you’re done. I don’t want your sweaty…body stinking up my sheets.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Okay then.” She turns to go, pulling the door behind her. “Carry on.”

  “Good night, Mrs. Hutton.” I reply with my dimpled smile.

  She smiles back. “Good night, Elliot.”

  Click. The door shuts. I peel out of my shirt again aurn to my work out. This time as I get the blood flowing my thoughts turn to the woman I just saw. Hmmm.

  Too old, definitely! Too nosy, probably. Too tall, possibly? Too ky, maybe? I wasn’t nearly so sure as I was a few ho. When she hugged me I sure didn’t mind her extra read added squish. And speaking of that extra squish, it sure made for some reeeeally nice curves. Bir’s little titties were so small they could ouatter how hard she squeezed them together, that would not be an issue with Mrs. Hutton’s big boobs. My ex’s slender backside skinny almost to point of bony, there lenty of cushion oher’s big round ass. And Bir’s petite frame could never around me and hold me like Heather’s had. Heather was an attractive woman, very attractive, just not in the way I was used to thinking about. Perhaps my thinking was ging. Perhaps I’d beeure on deg what qualifies as my ‘dream girl’. Perhaps I should have waited to get a bit more experience before jumping to clusions on what I liked and did not like. Or perhaps this was all the hoalking.