Not good-natured. And not anybody's saviour.
― Chuck Palahniuk, Choke
Greer Kinsley
My parents are gone but when they were alive I used to drive them crazy picking up stray dogs and cats―once, I even rescued a squirrel.
I never outgrew that urge―it's in my DNA and I've come to accept it. Maybe that explains why I rescued Dan.
I just can't stand to see people or animals suffer, or for that matter, even plants or insects. To come right down to it, I can't look away.
I once read a philosopher who said, Man is Care.
Yeah, that about sums it up. But don't save me a square on your holy calendar―I'm far too flawed and self-seeking.
Besides, it's just in this one thing―I have to do it even if I don't want to. I can't rest until I rescue whatever's caught my attention.
It's not admirable, just a reflex kind of action.
I show Dan his unit, give him the keys and tell him to rest up today―he can start tomorrow.
I slip him a hundred dollars and tell him I'll pay him the same every Wednesday till the end of the year and then we'll review the arrangement.
He's like me. He grudgingly takes the cash because he needs it and he doesn't over-react which would embarrass both of us.
I don't ask him about welfare or social assistance. He's a smart guy―if he's getting that, he can pocket it and get himself out of poverty.
What he does is his business. But if he doesn't work, he's out. I don't have to tell him, he gets it.
I go back to my unit and crash on the couch.
The one thing I miss about my old place was the fireplace. I don't have that here, but at least I have a roof over my head and food in the fridge.
I drift off and when I awake I don't know how long I've slept but someone's knocking on my door.
I figure it's Dan and get up to see what he wants, but that's not who's standing there in the dimly-lit hallway. It's Greer from the night before―and for a moment, I'm not sure if she's real or I'm dreaming.
"Greer?" I croak. "how did you know where to find me?"
She smiles, "I's my job to know these things. Did anyone ever tell you when your hair's mussed you look like a lost little boy?"
I instinctively run my hand through my locks. "Oh Great!", I groan, "I fell asleep on the couch."
"Aren't you going to ask me in?" she smirks.
"Please," I mutter, sweeping my hand to welcome her in.
"Sorry to catch you off guard―actually, I'm not. You look charming when you sleep. The only thing that'd be better is if I caught you déshabiller."
I blush and she giggles, "Just as I thought―you're educated. Private schools?"
I nod. "Don't get me wrong―I'm no Rhodes scholar."
"No, but you have a Masters from U of T―English Lit, I figure. Am I right?"
I'm feeling off-balance, probably coming down with a cold, but it could also be this girl who's making me dizzy.
How does she know stuff about me?
And what did she mean by saying it was her business to know things?
Oh God, she can't be a cop―that'd be all I need right now.
But the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised.