and keep dishes in the bottom ones. The living room is neat because it has a big picture window that has a view of the parking lot and marina. I can look down and see who comes into Holsted’s. That is so cool. I have to keep a towel on the sill because rain leaks around the edges.
A long wall across from the door fits Gram’s couch perfectly. My table and chairs sit next to the window. I put Gram’s double bed in the bedroom and scoot it against the wall. Gram’s old white night-stand is on one side with my clock radio on top. The radio part does not work and the alarm sometimes does not ring, but the clock keeps good time. It flashes and is digital. That means it has numbers instead of hands.
There is a short hall off the living room with a washer and dryer at the end, a bathroom on one side, and my bedroom door on the other. I have a toilet, sink, and shower, but no tub. That is okay. I do not like bathtubs because that is where they put murdered people on TV.
Keith helped me move into my apartment, but he would not help me clean.
“I have to draw the line somewhere, Per! I’ve never cleaned a kitchen in my life and don’t intend to start now.” Keith helped me carry all of my furniture up the long stairway to my apartment. He only said the F-word twice and the S-word once when he pinched his finger between the doorframe and the sofa.
“This will be really convenient having you so close, Perry,” Gary said. Convenient means that other people do not have to work so hard.
Keith’s twenty-seven-foot Catalina sailboat Diamond Girl is moored in the first slip on C dock. I can see his boat from my window and when he sees me he waves. I like to visit Keith, but he sleeps a lot and I do not want to bother him. I would like to live on a twenty-seven -foot Catalina. That would be cool.
The first time I met Keith was the first time I saw Diamond Girl. I cannot think of one without the other. I saw them coming into the harbor and I watched as Keith steered her to the slip. He did not do a good job and almost crashed Diamond Girl ’s bow into the dock. That’s okay. People make mistakes when they drive boats.
“Grab my line, will you?” I heard Keith before I saw him and before I knew he was Keith. He did not need to tell me what to do. I was already holding Diamond Girl off the dock with my foot. Keith threw out a fender and I wrapped his bowline on a cleat.
“She’s beautiful,” I said. “Catalinas are great boats.” And I helped him secure his aft line.
Most people look at me hard when they first hear me talk. Keith is not most people.
He double-checked Diamond Girl ’s lines and said, “Good job there, matey!” Then he stuck out his hand and said, “Keith!”
I shook it and said, “Perry.”
Then he farted twice really loud and walked across the parking lot to Holsted’s. I followed him because my lunch break was over. The next day he started working at Holsted’s. I like Keith. He is my friend.
I have Gram’s ashes with me. Her wooden urn stays on the bottom shelf of my bedside table. My books are on top and she is underneath. It is like us being together again, but she does not talk out loud. She is only in my head now.
My life is different with Gram gone. I do not go to bingo anymore on Tuesdays. I have no one to play with because Keith does not like bingo. I only asked him to go once.
“You want to go to bingo, Keith?”
“Stick needles in my eye, Per! Go inside a Catholic church? Not on your life!” That is what Keith says when he really does not want to do something. He says he would rather have needles in his eye. I just say okay.
I go to Gilly’s, Marina Handy Mart, and KFC. I do not go to the movies. I would have to take a bus and it is hard to choose which movie to see, so I stay home. On Sunday morning, I wake up early, walk to Marina Handy Mart, and get a paper and box of powdered-sugar doughnuts or cinnamon rolls. It gives me a chance to see Cherry. When I get home, I
A long wall across from the door fits Gram’s couch perfectly. My table and chairs sit next to the window. I put Gram’s double bed in the bedroom and scoot it against the wall. Gram’s old white night-stand is on one side with my clock radio on top. The radio part does not work and the alarm sometimes does not ring, but the clock keeps good time. It flashes and is digital. That means it has numbers instead of hands.
There is a short hall off the living room with a washer and dryer at the end, a bathroom on one side, and my bedroom door on the other. I have a toilet, sink, and shower, but no tub. That is okay. I do not like bathtubs because that is where they put murdered people on TV.
Keith helped me move into my apartment, but he would not help me clean.
“I have to draw the line somewhere, Per! I’ve never cleaned a kitchen in my life and don’t intend to start now.” Keith helped me carry all of my furniture up the long stairway to my apartment. He only said the F-word twice and the S-word once when he pinched his finger between the doorframe and the sofa.
“This will be really convenient having you so close, Perry,” Gary said. Convenient means that other people do not have to work so hard.
Keith’s twenty-seven-foot Catalina sailboat Diamond Girl is moored in the first slip on C dock. I can see his boat from my window and when he sees me he waves. I like to visit Keith, but he sleeps a lot and I do not want to bother him. I would like to live on a twenty-seven -foot Catalina. That would be cool.
The first time I met Keith was the first time I saw Diamond Girl. I cannot think of one without the other. I saw them coming into the harbor and I watched as Keith steered her to the slip. He did not do a good job and almost crashed Diamond Girl ’s bow into the dock. That’s okay. People make mistakes when they drive boats.
“Grab my line, will you?” I heard Keith before I saw him and before I knew he was Keith. He did not need to tell me what to do. I was already holding Diamond Girl off the dock with my foot. Keith threw out a fender and I wrapped his bowline on a cleat.
“She’s beautiful,” I said. “Catalinas are great boats.” And I helped him secure his aft line.
Most people look at me hard when they first hear me talk. Keith is not most people.
He double-checked Diamond Girl ’s lines and said, “Good job there, matey!” Then he stuck out his hand and said, “Keith!”
I shook it and said, “Perry.”
Then he farted twice really loud and walked across the parking lot to Holsted’s. I followed him because my lunch break was over. The next day he started working at Holsted’s. I like Keith. He is my friend.
I have Gram’s ashes with me. Her wooden urn stays on the bottom shelf of my bedside table. My books are on top and she is underneath. It is like us being together again, but she does not talk out loud. She is only in my head now.
My life is different with Gram gone. I do not go to bingo anymore on Tuesdays. I have no one to play with because Keith does not like bingo. I only asked him to go once.
“You want to go to bingo, Keith?”
“Stick needles in my eye, Per! Go inside a Catholic church? Not on your life!” That is what Keith says when he really does not want to do something. He says he would rather have needles in his eye. I just say okay.
I go to Gilly’s, Marina Handy Mart, and KFC. I do not go to the movies. I would have to take a bus and it is hard to choose which movie to see, so I stay home. On Sunday morning, I wake up early, walk to Marina Handy Mart, and get a paper and box of powdered-sugar doughnuts or cinnamon rolls. It gives me a chance to see Cherry. When I get home, I
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