The Best People in the World by Justin Tussing Page A

open. “It’s you,” she said, as though she was used to having all sorts of visitors. She was wearing a blue dress that tied around her waist. She looked as if she’d just gotten back from church.
    If she just wanted me to feel bad, there wasn’t much point in giving her the satisfaction. I turned around.
    â€œWait,” she said. “You have to explain to me where you went after you left here.”
    I told her I went home.
    â€œThat’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
    I couldn’t offer a defense.
    â€œI was worried about you,” said Alice.
    â€œI wasn’t actually in any danger.”
    â€œBut you didn’t know that at the time.”
    It wasn’t clear if she was ever going to let me into her apartment again.
    â€œMy parents keep asking where I was.”
    â€œYou can tell them if you want. After this term is over, I’m going to take a break from teaching. I already turned in my resignation. A teacher needs to show better judgment than her students.”
    We might have stayed like that, standing across from each other in a doorway, but I stepped toward her and kissed her lower lip. “Well,” she said as she closed the door behind us.
    Tucked neatly beside her sofa, I saw a red toolbox and a stack of men’s clothing.
    Alice said, “I had a revelation.”
    The clothes—though they looked dirty—had been ordered in fastidious piles.
    â€œWhat kind of revelation?” I asked.
    â€œWell,” said Alice, “I haven’t been sleeping well. The reason for this, I think, is that I’m nervous about living alone. I don’t like noises in the middle of the night. Ideally I’d like to get a dog.”
    Of course, those weren’t a dog’s clothes.
    â€œAt the same time, I don’t want a dog. So what I decided was that I needed a roommate.”
    â€œOh,” I said.
    â€œAnd guess what, I went out and found one.”
    I looked at the guy shirts and the guy pants. “What’s her name?”
    Alice came over and gave me a hug. “Nothing is going to change between us,” she said.
    â€œWhat’s your roommate’s name?”
    â€œHis name,” said Alice, not spitefully, but clearly, “is Shiloh Tanager.”
    6
    House Guest
    Three days before, Alice had carried a stack of papers down to the little brick plaza across from city hall. She wanted to take advantage of the weather to do some outdoor grading. People came and went. She could hear the river sweeping past.
    Shiloh took a spot at the opposite end of her bench. He seemed preoccupied, watching passersby. He reached a hand up, threaded it inside the neck of his shirt, and massaged his left shoulder. Turning toward Alice, he assessed the pile of papers. Somewhere in the pile was an essay I’d written on vaulted ceilings.
    â€œYou’re a teacher?”
    Alice nodded.
    â€œReading. Riting. Rithmetic. Which are you?”
    â€œI teach history.”
    â€œI’m a student of history,” said Shiloh. “Social theory, Judeo-Christian democracy, capitalistic monotheism. I’m interested in nondiscriminatory political fabrics.”
    â€œWhere do you study?”
    He stuck a finger out, as though ringing a doorbell.
    She didn’t comprehend his gesture.
    He jabbed his finger twice more.
    â€œYou got me.”
    â€œOn the shores of the Ohio River.”
    â€œCincinnati?”
    He shook his head, pleased.
    â€œPittsburgh?”
    â€œI was homeschooled,” he said.
    â€œOh.”
    â€œIn my own home.” But, again, he’d failed to convey his message. “By myself.”
    â€œThat’s ambitious,” said Alice.
    A flattened smile found its way onto his face. He kneaded his shoulder again. “You know anything about shots?”
    Somewhere Alice had picked up one of those apologetic shrugs.
    â€œThey gave me tetanus at the clinic.”
    â€œA tetanus