Portia woke early the next morning with Darren draped over her. She carefully peeled her body away from Darren’s and slipped into the living room. She was eager to get on with things, even if she didn’t particularly know what those things were.
As she looked around, everything reminded her of Alex.
She began by cleaning the house. She started in the kitchen. Dirty dishes filled the sink. She emptied the sink and filled it with hot water. When it was ready, she stirred in dish soap and tossed the dirtiest dishes into the sink to soak. She turned her attention to the kitchen floor, which was littered with trash that didn’t quite make it into the trashcan. She filled the trash and lifted the bag out of the can. Her tummy grumbled as she took the trash to the curb. She decided she’d better eat before she did anything else.
She cleaned a saucepan and filled it with water. When it began to simmer, she pulled the box of cream of wheat from the cupboard and poured the mix into the pan with one hand while she stirred with the other.
Outside, sleet had coated the trees with ice during the night. She watched a tiny bird jump from limb to limb before he flitted to the ledge outside the kitchen window.
With its bright blue feathers, she knew immediately it was a barn swallow. It hopped in a tiny circle as it turned towards her. He pecked at the gravel on the windowsill and spat it out. He turned his head and looked at her. Tears came to Portia’s eyes as she watched it hopping around. She sniffled a bit before wiping her pajama sleeve across her face. The bird jumped off the ledge and flew away as soon as she raised her hand.
She moved the saucepan to the cold burner before fixing a bowl for herself. She added butter, raisins, and brown sugar, stirring it as she moved to the kitchen table.
It was still bleak and gray outside. Portia felt the cold wisps of air coming between the cracks in the windows. It just didn’t feel right.
Darren emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later.
“Hey, how are you?”
“I have to move out.”
“What?”
“I can’t live here anymore. This just feels so wrong.”
“Alright, but…”
Portia glanced at Darren. He went silent.
“What?”
“I, um, still can’t move back to the old place.”
“My dad wants both me and you to move back home.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“It’s the right thing to do.”
“But how do you feel?”
“I like it, I really do,” she said emphatically.
“Alright, I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it.”
“I am.”
After breakfast, they returned to the Gatteau house. Mr. and Mrs. Gatteau sat on the couch, with large plates of food as they watched Court TV. Portia and Darren stood next to the door, waiting to be invited inside.
“I think Marcus will go to jail for a long time,” said mother.
Portia nodded quietly.
“Do you want something to eat?”
“We just ate.”
“We’ll pack a care package for you before you leave.”
“It’s not necessary,” said Portia, “We’re thinking of moving back here.”
Mr. Gatteau perked up. He set his plate on the floor and hugged the two of them at once.
“When do you want to move?”
“Right away.”
“Good. Let’s go get a moving truck and get on this right away.”
Portia was surprised by her father’s anxiousness to ‘get on with things’ She wasn’t quite ready for it,, but she had agreed to it, so she went along for the ride.
People lingered about as soon as Mr. Gatteau backed the truck up to the front door of Alex and Ramona’s old place.
“Should we call Ramona or something?”
“We’ll box it up. She can get it when she wants it. Darren and I can start loading the furniture while you sort through stuff.”
Portia built four cardboard boxes, labeling them with the four separate roommate’s names. She began in the living room, clearing off the tables and clearing out the cabinets. There were remnants of Alex all over: old “Sports Illustrated” issues, empty beef jerky wrappers, and old work gloves. She packed them into Alex’s box without much thought.
Even when she reached the TV stand, the old boxing DVDs didn’t bother her that much. The fact it didn’t bother her bothered her. She placed them into Alex’s box, but quickly moved them into the box labeled ‘Portia’, along with the DVD player.
“How’s it coming?” asked Darren.
“Okay.”
He sorted through the DVDs.
“These are…?”
“I like boxing, too.”
“I know, Portia,” he chuckled, “I know.”
After she finished with the living room, Portia went to her room. She quickly tossed the stuff on the floor into her box and stripped the sheets and blankets off the bed. She pulled the mattress from the frame and leaned it against the wall.
“Where are you?” called her father.
“Taking the bed frame apart in my room.”
“Don’t do that yourself!” he called from downstairs.
“I’m fine,” said Portia. She separated the headboard from the rails and leaned it against the mattress. Piles of Darren’s stuff were neatly organized under the bed.
“Darren, you should get all your junk. Here’s your box.”
Darren stepped in front of Portia and loaded his stuff into the cardboard box as Portia watched. There was a small box packaged in gift-wrapping. Before Darren could grab it, Portia reached out and snatched it off the floor.
“Is this mine?”
“Wait…” said Darren.
“It is…”
Portia drew a finger under the corner of the gift-wrapping. A tiny corner peeked out from behind the paper, partially exposing the gift inside. Portia pulled it away, revealing a box of DVDs. On the cover, it said “Facing Ali”.
“Here it comes again.”
Both her father and Darren did not know what she meant until they saw tears streaming down her face. “Facing Ali” was a documentary collection featuring interviews with everyone associated with Muhammad Ali, whether it was trainers or managers or promoters or the boxers themselves, like Foreman, Frazier, Spinks, and Holmes. It was something she and Alex always wanted.
“Where did you find this?” she asked through tears.
“There’s a bookstore in Philly.”
“Philadelphia? That’s hours away.”
“I just thought it would be the perfect gift.”
“Oh, it is. It is!”
Portia hugged Darren tightly.
“Can we take a break and watch a little bit of it?”
“I don’t suppose that would hurt anything,” replied her father.
They removed the television from the truck while Portia gathered the remaining pillows and blankets and set up a viewing area while Darren and her father set up the television in the middle of the living room floor. Darren placed the DVD player beside the television and connected the wires.
“We should cook popcorn,” she suggested.
Her father softly nodded. Portia made popcorn and pulled a few beers from the fridge. She handed one to Darren. He refused it.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so absent-minded!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll just take a glass of juice.”
“Yeah,” added her father, “I’ll take one, too.”
She rushed to the kitchen and fixed three glasses of apple juice and brought them with the popcorn. Apple juice and buttery popcorn weren’t exactly the best combination, but it was the perfect one for now. Darren sorted through the DVDs and put one in.
“Ali-Frazier III?”
Portia nodded.
They sat and watched the DVD from beginning to end, including the interviews and extras. When it was over, they loaded in another DVD and watched it, too.
“Another?” asked Portia.
“We have to get some work done,” said her father, “Let’s save some for later.”
They returned to their work, sorting stuff and packing boxes. It was a bittersweet sort of catharsis Portia felt now. She happily packed his things. It was late in the evening when they finally returned home. Mr. Gatteau pulled the moving truck into the driveway and went directly inside.
“We can finish this tomorrow,” said Mr. Gatteau.
“Nah, we’ll get it,” said Portia.
Mr. Gatteau helped them for a short while, but finally gave up around midnight.
“Come on,” said Mr. Gatteau.
“We can get it, Mr. G.”
Portia stood with her hands on her waist, looking at the back of the truck. It was still half full.
“It’s probably time to quit anyway.”
“Alright,” said Darren.
They retreated downstairs, pulling the hide-a-bed from the couch and collapsed in bed. Even before they had a chance to change into nightclothes, they were both fast asleep.
.
+++++++++++++
.
Darren was the first out of bed on Friday, and by the time he woke, it was nearly noon. This time around, he was the one to slip away from Portia. He tiptoed upstairs and went to the refrigerator. He ate a bowl of cereal before heading outside. He worked alone, moving the boxes from the truck to the basement. Just before he finished, Portia joined him outside.
“You need help?”
Darren laughed, “I’m nearly finished.”
“You should’ve gotten me up.”
She helped him with the last row of boxes. As she moved one of the boxes across the floor, she heard a rustling behind the boxes. She went to the back of the truck, peering at the empty space between the boxes and the truck wall. A sudden rush of air filled her face as a bird fluttered through the back of the truck. He skidded along the wall and out the open end. It looked like the barn swallow she’d just seen a few days ago.
She thought about that bird as she finished moving. The boxes filled the basement. Portia sorted through the boxes one at a time. She shuffled the boxes back and forth, creating a pathway between the stairs and bed as she finished looking through each box.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for my book of birds.”
There’s a wall of boxes between the sofa and the television.”
“We’ll fix that eventually.” She spoke to Darren without breaking rhythm, methodically searching each box.
“A-ha!” she exclaimed as she lifted the book above her head. She left the storage box open on the couch as she retreated to the hide-a-bed. She hopped under the covers and began reading. Darren sat beside her for a while, occasionally interrupting her.
“Shhhh,” she repeatedly reminded him.
Finally, he stared blankly at the walls for a short while.
“Portia, I’m going to the Body Shop.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later.”
She leaned over as he leaned in for a kiss. Her eyes, however, did not leave the pages of the book. Darren headed upstairs and out the door. Portia, however, remained in bed for the rest of the day.
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