Chapter 8

I slept restlessly that night, still trying to decide what I should do. I would doze off to be awakened by some crazy dream only for my mind to return to my dilemma.

I was awakened again by a tap at my open door. The light in the room was bright so I knew it was daylight. There at the door was the pretty petite girl with long black hair and captivating brown eyes.

“Tengo que hacer pis,” she said softly.

Not able to speak Spanish I motioned her in.

“Tengo que hacer pis,” she said again and motioned to the bathroom.

I nodded, pointing to the bathroom and said, “It’s okay,”

She went in and pushed the door to, not closing it all the way. I heard the clank of the toilet lid being lowered and remembered my mom telling me to always put the seat down after I had finished.

In a minute I heard the toilet flush and then the water turn on at the sink.

She slowly emerged from the bathroom and looked at me, looked at the door, and then looked back at me.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Come sit,” and patted the mattress beside me.

She walked over and for the first time I noticed her nipples pointed against the t-shirt. Although the shirt was not thin, you could make out the faint darkness of her areolas underneath.

“Jake,” I said, pointing to myself.

“Rosalia,” she said, putting her hand on her chest. Her voice was sweet and soft.

“Hi, Rosalia,” I said, holding my hand out to her.

“Hola, Jake,” she answered taking my hand and for the first time I saw the corners of her mouth curl up into a smile. God, she was beautiful.

“Hungry,” I asked, rubbing my hand on my stomach.

“Si,” she smiled again.

She stood as I pulled the covers back getting out of bed. When I was standing there in just my boxers I saw her looking at my morning wood.

“Sorry,” I said when she smiled. I covering my erection with my hand and went into the bathroom. I started to grab a pair of jeans but decided she was only wearing a t-shirt and pair of my boxers, I should be alright wearing my boxers.

In the kitchen I opened the refrigerator and she dutifully moved me out of her way. She looked inside, opening drawers to see what was inside.

She pulled out a package of bacon and the egg tray.

“Uno, dos, tres,” she said, holding up one, two and then three eggs.

“Three,” I said, holding up three fingers. She placed five eggs to the side and returned the egg tray to the refrigerator. She opened a couple cabinets and said, “Freidora.”

I shook my head not understanding.

“Freidora,” she said again, pointing to the stove and holding the package of bacon.

“Frying pan,” I said, pointing to the drawer below the oven.

“Si, Freidora,” she said, opening the drawer and pulling out a cast iron frying pan.

She cooked up a dozen slices of bacon and the eggs. When she poured the grease out of the frying pan and started to put the bread in the pan to toast, I told her to wait and showed her the toaster.

She looked at me confused and I placed four slices of bread into the toaster and pushed down the handles. She looked over into the toaster and then held her hand over the top feeling the heat rise from the openings. After a minute the toast popped up causing her to jump and give a little shriek. She pulled the toast out and looked at it with amazement.

I poured us some orange juice and we ate our breakfast together. She would say something in Spanish ever so often but not press me to see if I understood. I didn’t.

She finished before I did but sat and watched me finish. When I sopped up the last of egg yoke from my plate and put the toast in my mouth, she grabbed the plates and went to the sink.

“Rosalia,” I said, getting her attention. “Dishwasher.” I pointed to the dishwasher and she looked at it before opening the door. Seeing the other dishes inside, she placed the plates and utensils inside and closed the door.

I was admiring her as she moved around the kitchen in just the t-shirt and boxers. I could see her small breast jiggle slightly as she moved. Her shapely legs flexed when she shifted one way or another. Then I remembered. Her clothes were still in the washer.

I transferred her clothes to the dryer and turned the machine on to automatic. After a moment the display showed it would take about fifteen minutes for them to dry.

Looking out the back window I saw the smokehouse and remembered the roast. It was Thanksgiving. I had forgotten all about it. Then a since of dread hit me. What would I do with Rosalia? I couldn’t just leave her here by herself. What would Angel and Bill think? How would they respond?

I went back to the kitchen and got down a platter. I went out the get the roast and wrapped it in foil before placing it on the platter. Rosalia watched me the entire time.

“Rosalia, it’s Thanksgiving,” I said. “I’m supposed to eat dinner with friends.”

I could tell she didn’t understand and just gave up. I’d have to take her with me.

The buzzer sounded on the clothes dryer indicating her clothes were dry. I got them out and handed them to Rosalia before going to my room to change. When I came out she had dressed after folding the boxers and t-shirt and placing them on the counter.

It was approaching ten when I decided not to delay the inevitable any longer. Angel had told me to come early and I could watch the parade on television with Bill and the kids while she finished preparing dinner.

I took the roast out to the truck and came back in to get my keys.

“Come on,” I said to Rosalia, holding out my hand.

Her eyes grew big and I could see fear.

“Por favor, no me tomen a la policia,” she said.

“No policia,” I told her. “We’re going to my friend’s house.”

Reluctantly she took my hand and followed me to the truck. She still had worry in her eyes as I drove out the driveway.