Chapter 10: Ask Me

Cal's apartment was over a bike shop, and it smelled of burning garlic.

"It's fine," he said from the stove, waving a dish towel at the smoke alarm. "This is how it's supposed to smell."

"It's supposed to smell like a fire?"

"It's supposed to smell like effort."

I sat on a stool at his counter with my flash cards and my wine.

The kitchen was small and orange and had three mismatched mugs hanging from a rack, and every one of them had a chip.

A drawing of a cartoon dog was taped to the fridge.

"My niece," Cal said, following my eyes. "I told her about you, so she drew you."

"You told a six-year-old about me?"

"She asked who the lady was with the flash cards."

I laughed, and the smoke alarm went off, and he climbed onto a chair and hit it with the towel until it stopped.

We ate burnt garlic pasta at his small table with a candle he had clearly gone out and bought.

He asked me three questions about the exam, and a fourth about what I'd do if I won.

He listened to the answers.

Then he asked, "So what are the rules?"

"What rules?"

"You said you check people. I've watched you do it to a text message, a sandwich and a supplement lady."

"It's a habit."

"What's your plan for me?"

I put down my fork.

"If you're keeping something from me," I said, "I'll find it. I'm good at it now. I can't stop."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Here's mine." He leaned back. "Ask me. Anything, any hour, however weird."

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