Handy

They clumped down the stairs, down a short hall, he opened a door, flipped on a light.

His lab! Maybe half again bigger than hers, mostly computers, screens, storage units.

In half an hour they knew. Their models predicted a statistically unlikely probability of cashflow issues began at a certain rent threshold, less than their current combined rent. Way less!

A quick survey of local real estate listings showed a dozen apartments available for that sum or less.

They looked up from the glowing screen, what did that poet say? with a wild surmise, silent, upon a peak in Darien.

They could do it!

"My next rent is due in a few days."

"I'm paid up until the first. When should we do this?"

"Tomorrow!"

He walked her to Central, said good night! and shook her hand.

She wasn't sure she didn't want more than that. What would friends do?

She hugged him, surprising him.

"Michael! Friend! I'll look at our top two choices, while you're at work. Call you, we can meet, decide together?"

"Deal!"

She walked home, excited. He walked back home, glad to have a friend. Finally.

...

All her bedroom stuff fit into one box, an old booze carton her roommates were always leaving by the bins, for her to break down. Some jeans, a couple pair of overalls, some work shirts. Underwear. A pillow. A meagre sad life, one she'd learned young.

The lab took a little more. Three more cartons, the parts bins fitting into one, her hand-tools taking two. She'd abandon the bench, too hard to wrestle it out of the basement, up the stairs. Probably wouldn't fit anyway, she'd put it together down here from parts.

Carried them up to the carport, stacked behind the mower. They'd never in a million years come out here, they didn't lower themselves to manual labor.

Off to the bus stop, a short list in her hand.

First one, closer to downtown, a little noisy, could smell the traffic. And taken! Somebody from the College had rented it yesterday.

The second one, six blocks further out of the way. On a quiet street, overhung with ancient elms, survivors of the Dutch Elm Disease plague.

The manager's office off a pleasant courtyard, flower boxes filled to bursting, hanging plants.

The manager, a stout pleasant lady, no nonsense but nice enough, showed her the place.

"No loud parties! No overnight guests! Keep it clean, carry your trash to the dumpster out back, included!"

It was beautiful, new paint, fairly new carpet. Two bedrooms, both large. Small kitchen, but only two of them to share it. Big bathroom, big shower stall! Two sinks! They could both rinse and spit at the same time!

She wanted it, like she'd never wanted anything before.

Sophia admitted there would be two of them. No problem! First one on the lease pays! The other pays them for their share!

That didn't sound unreasonable. She promised to come back at seven when Michael's shift was over.

Can't promise to keep it for you! First to sign, gets it!

That didn't sound good, but what could she do?

With all her worldly goods packed, no way to earn money today. Not a problem, no deadlines coming up.

But how to spend the afternoon?

At the coffee shop. People watching.

Single people came and went, after their fix. Couples came in, ordered, sat, not look at one another, not speaking. Got their coffee, drank it, each absorbed in their own life, newspaper or book or scribbling in a notebook. Left.

Might as well have been strangers.

Baristas repeating the same prompts endlessly, annoyed when somebody asked a question, wanted an opinion. What can I get for you? And implied, make up your mind for yourself, I don't give a shit, I'm not paid enough to care, to actually know the business and help you decide.

All the while the specter of Somebody Might Rent It First! She had to put that out of her mind, not dwell or she'd go mad.

She called it a day at five thirty, half an hour early but she could just as well wait at his house.

Turning onto the street she saw him, already home! Out on the lawn, piled boxes, loading them into an ancient station wagon.

"You've packed already! You must have been pretty confident!"

He smiled. "It didn't matter, this one doesn't work we'll just keep looking. I don't need most of this stuff, not every day, I can just leave it in the car until we do get a place."

That sounded good. More than good; he was enthusiastically committed to making this work. To being her roommate.

Sudden joy! A roommate who wanted to be with her!

He saw her expression, smiled a huge smile.

"You believe in soul mates now?"

...

They drove right over, not stopping to get her stuff quite yet. Don't want to lose the apartment at the last minute!

The manager looked up when they jingled into her office, smiled.

"This your guy? Hi, good to meet you. Lucky couple! I had three people come by today, look at the place."

Panic! Was it gone? But she'd said Lucky Couple.

"No worries! One was a bachelor, the worst kind of renter. Trash the place, never clean shit. Use up the whole deposit every time, paying for damages, cleaning.

"The others, well, I told them it was taken. By a nice young couple, just starting out on their own."

For some reason Sophia got a thrill up her spine. She was mistaken, they weren't really a couple, just two people, friends really, sharing expenses.

Still, it was very nice to be thought of that way, as a couple, as somebody who was worth somebody else's kindness and attention.

Michael was more pragmatic.

"I should sign the lease? My job is regular, doesn't pay as much as yours but regular, enough to guarantee rent every month on time."

Sophia thought that sounded sensible. She could shoulder other expenses, groceries, supplies, furniture! Make it come out even in the end.

They signed, then got the keys, and went up to their apartment.

Their apartment!

"A bedroom for each of us! You're on the lease, the big one is yours!

"Our own kitchen! Room for a couch, a TV! Trash goes into the dumpster in the alley!"

He looked bemused, watching her dash from room to room, planning what would go where, how it would fit.

"I don't have any furniture? Have to get a bed from somewhere. Can you help me drive it back in your car?"

He agreed, that would be fine.

"We should bring my stuff up. Then go get yours?"

So they did, hustling his boxes and appliances from the car, passing each other on the stairs, putting things in the right places, bedroom stuff and kitchen stuff, smiling and smiling.

The last box placed, lock the door, each with their own key! And off to get her shit.

It was right where she left it, behind the mower, untouched.

As they were carrying out her meagre belongings the front door opened, Bobbi stood there, upset.

"What's going on? Who is this? Where are you going?"

Michael left it to her to explain. She ignored Bobbi at first, just put her load in the back of the car, came back up the walk to find Bobbi blocking her way.

"Excuse me."

"Explain! Your lab is empty! Your bedroom!"

Ha! Bedroom! Utility room, she slept on an army cot behind the furnace.

"And who is this guy?"

Big sigh. Patiently,

"I'm moving out. Your dildo is on your dresser, the pieces plus the new bushing and pin. You're on your own putting it back together; all my tools are packed.

"And it's none of your goddam fucking business, who this guy is. Like you ever explained who the randos you brought over were."

Michael had her last box, stopped, waited with her, waited for her to be ready to leave.

"But, but. We need you! Who will pay your share of the lease? Who will do the chores!"

"You need me? I believe you won't be able to get along without me.

"But guess what? I don't need you. Not one tiny little bit. Not one subatomic particle of need.

"I don't need you ridiculing me, making me do all your chores. I don't need to clean up your sex messes and deliberate spills and accidental-on-purpose sex stains on the carpet!

"Because I've found somebody who likes me, actually likes me!

"And he doesn't trash the kitchen just to make one sandwich, or leave garbage all over the house. He doesn't use the remote as a vibrator, stick it up his cootch for a thrill and get pussy juice in all the buttons, expect me to clean it out.

"Grow up, Bobbi! Learn to put something away, anything! Clean your own toilet, buy your own cereal! Grow a backbone!

"Goodbye Bobbi. Good luck! You're going to need it!"

Michael was grinning, aware that wasn't kind or polite but just too impressed by his roommate to keep it bottled up.

Sophia stepped around Bobbi, her mouth still open, shocked that Sophia had dared talk back to her, as they walked to the car together.

Driving away, Michael could not keep quiet.

"You were awesome! Polite, honest, even kind! But you let her have it, in no uncertain terms. Her days of abusing my Sophia are over!"

She felt proud, felt good because he was proud.

Good to be Michael's Sophia!

God, this was going to be great.

...

"How did it go with your sisters? When they learned you were leaving."

Standing, surveying the apartment, the floor covered in boxes.

"They didn't give a shit. Already planning to make my room into their dressing room."

That was sad. Family was important, or so Sophia had heard. She'd been an army brat. Then an orphan, briefly, for a year then turned 18. On her own since then.

She had brought up her last box while Michael pulled the car around, to a space in the alley. Their space!

Now he was here, and the reality of moving into an apartment was getting ever so real.

"I'll unpack the kitchen? While you do your bedroom?"

He seemed troubled. About what?

"Ah, see. We have two rooms, plus the kitchen, plus our living space.

"You need room for your lab; I need room for mine."

She saw the problem. If they used the living space for labs, the whole apartment would be just for work.

She had a brainstorm.

"We can share a bedroom? Then use the other room for our labs. I take one wall; you have the other? Still bigger than the space we used to have."

Michael nodded, that made sense.

"Not sure two beds will fit. Even in the big bedroom."

"I've been sleeping on an army cot for, like forever. I only need a corner, I don't mind."

He shook his head. "You are my roommate, not my pet, not a servant. You deserve to take up space, like a real person."

That was a new thought. Never had she been more than an extra, somebody's burden. A servant, that would just about describe her life so far.

"What do you suggest?"

He hem'd and haw'd then came out with it.

"We could share a bed? If it was big enough?"

Practically speaking, it was a fine idea. The bed wouldn't have to be very big, even a double, she didn't take up much space. Was used to sleeping on a cot eighteen inches wide.

She said as much.

That pleased him, for some reason. More than a solution to a problem should please him.

She had a sudden thought.

"Are you getting ideas? You think I'm going to be your bed-warmer, your cuddle-mate? Cozy up to you?

"Be your girlfriend?"

He didn't respond immediately, just let that hang in the air.

"Let me be honest. I really like you; you know that. I think we're very compatible.

"If at some future time, we became boyfriend and girlfriend, I would have to consider it but think I already know the answer."

She felt a tightening in her chest. No, not her chest; in her stomach, her groin.

"You don't want me. Not that way. I'm not beautiful. Not sexy. Just a dork, a girl who wears overalls and solders circuit boards."

Michael tilted his head, looked at her thoughtfully.

"I like you, Sophia the Dork. You can wear overalls, solder all the circuit boards you want. I'll still like you.

"Not everybody has to be beautiful, to be loved. I have to believe that, just look at me."

She giggled; he had a way of making her do that.

Michael was not beautiful, not like TV-beautiful. Not going to be doing any condom ads.

But she thought he was great. Lovely. Just right.

"Ok, how big is this bed?"

The wrestled it in, left in the entryway when they brought up the heavy stuff. Set up the frame, laid the mattress on top. Sat on it, on different sides, bounced.

"It could use a box spring. Even out some of the waviness."

"I've learned to scootch down, get my hips and shoulders arranged so they fit in the dips."

That was funny, they both giggled at that. Tried it.

Her head came just about where his shoulders were, when her hips were properly settled. She turned, looked at him from below his chin.

"Not bad."

He looked down at her, not speaking. They shared a moment.

Sitting up, Sophia announced, "We're both thinking it. Will all our stuff fit in the new lab?"

The rest of the evening was spent unpacking computers and screens, parts cabinets and hand tools. A complete Dremel set, Michael was joyful to see that, had always wanted one.

"You have all the splines! All the collets! Oh! Oh! An elliptical cutoff!"

They explored one another's treasures, the bits and bobs that meant something only to nerds like them.

Took a break to walk down for a pizza, only a few blocks, gonna be a favorite activity, she knew it already.

Ate pizza on the floor, drinking water from insulated car cups, the only cups they had, with equipment vendor logos, freebies from technical conferences.

It got late; Michael had to work in the morning, so did Sophia, don't want to press the deadlines, that's how you got behind.

So, to sleep. Sheets in a box, it took only a minute to get them out, Michael had color coded every box. Sophia felt a thrill at that!

Made the bed together, tucking in, discussing issues of sheet alignment. Pulled up to the neck? Or only shoulder length, then the blanket? Tuck in at the bottom, or leave free?

The settled on, tuck in Sophia's side, leave Michael's untucked, so his feet didn't get squished, they stuck out further.

Took turns in the bathroom, then it was time.

"I, um, I usually sleep naked."

Sophia thought that sounded fine; she did too. Didn't own pyjamas. Neither did he.

"Turn your back!" So Sophia did, and Michael stripped in record time, slipped under the sheets.

"Ok. Your turn."

Sophia kept her back turned, kicked off her sandals. Unbuckled her overalls, let the straps fall. Shimmied out, stepped out of the pooled denim.

Unbuttoned her work shirt, striped it off, put it in the pile.

Hesitated, then rolled up one side of her sports bra, pulled that arm through, readjusted, then the other arm. Pulled it over her head.

The big decision! Panties or no panties! Well, it was unhygienic to wear them too long, and these were at their limit.

She stripped them down her padded hips, her firm thighs, stepped out. Tossed them onto her laundry pile.

Turned back; saw Michael's attention rivetted. On her. Her ugly body.

"Don't look!"

"I'm sorry! I'm a guy; it's hard not to look at a pretty girl."

"Not pretty!" She flared, angry or embarrassed, she didn't know.

Nothing left to do but get in. She picked up the sheet, sat, swung her legs up and under. Laid down, pulled the sheet over her shoulders. Covered her body.

It hardly helped, didn't leave anything to the imagination. Her puffy nipples stuck out, vividly, through the material.

She might as well have been completely naked.

And she could feel his heat, his body heat, just inches away. Like a furnace, up one side of her, warming her legs, her hips. Her shoulders. Her breasts.

"What are you looking at! Stop it!" Michael had turned his head, watching her.

"I'm... it's just, I've never seen a three-sigma glans before!"

Confusion: what was he going on about.

"Your, uh, clitoris! It's amazing!"

"It's deformed! I'm some kind of freak, not a real woman!"

His turn for confusion. "You're not normal, no. But very much a woman.

"Just on one end of the bell curve! Three sigma! One in a thousand!"

"You, you mean, my clitoris isn't defective?"

"No! No." Vehemently. "It's an expected variation, the clitoral hood, the exposed shaft? The same genes as express a penis in a male, form the clitoris in the female.

"Typically, it's expressed as a branching nerve cluster, bracketing the uh vagina. But the top? Where it branches? In a normal population it's exposed maybe a quarter inch, a half inch.

"In some exceptional individuals it can reach three or four inches! Really!"

She put one hand to her crotch, felt her clitoris, stiff already.

"Yours is somewhere in between, what? An inch?"

Shyly, "Forty millimeters."

"Really?" He was getting excited. "It's supposed to enable superior stimulation, a heightened sexual response. Is that your experience?"

What a question! But a legitimate one. The intelligent mind didn't shy away from new information.

She didn't know why she was talking about this, to a man any less! On a bed, naked.

But Michael? Her friend Michael? Maybe her soul mate? It seemed ok; she decided it was ok.

"It's always sensitive. Wherever I go, whatever I do, I know it's there, giving me little jolts, little electric charges when it touches something. It's always touching something."

Awe.

That felt nice; he wasn't repulsed, just the opposite, he thought she was awesome.

"Can, can I see?"

Why not?

She turned the sheets down, raised a leg, kicked them off. Exposed now, naked and lying next to a man.

Put one hand over her furry patch, a reflex; took it off slowly.

Spread her legs, put one knee out, opened herself up.

And there it was! Her little buddy, a model penis, sticking up stiff and red. The little berry, like a cockhead, spongy.

And a little groove up the bottom! Like, where the urethra went in a boy's penis, but open, her urethra ended in her cunt.

"Can I touch it?" Curious, respectful.

A nod, Yes.

He reached, carefully, just one finger, touched the tip. Zap! Like an electric shock, she twitched, so he pulled back.

"It's ok. Just very sensitive."

He tried again, touched but held it there, testing the resiliency, the stiffness. She squirmed a little but endured his attention.

"A perfect specimen! My first! Thank you!"

She flushed, pleased at that, at being able to please him, educate him.

Remembered she was naked; put one arm over her breasts, hid her nipples.

"You don't think your breasts are appealing?" He was suggesting, not telling her, just curious about his friend.

She shook her head No.

"My boobs are small, too small. My nipples are all bloated, stick out way too far."

Michael expressed doubt. "I don't think that's a thing."

Astonishment! It was all her roommates ever talked about, who had big boobs, shapely boobs. Who's were bouncier, softer, had better nipples.

"Don't you want to see big boobs? Tiny nipples?"

He shook his head. "I'd be lying, if I said I thought any boobs were not beautiful. It's kind of built in. A guy sees boobs; a guy gets excited. Any boobs; any size; any kind."

She considered that.

"Are you excited now?"

And she looked down, at his sheet-covered body, and saw that he was.

"Fair is fair!" She pouted. So he kicked off the sheets, showed her.

He was long! Thin, but long. And a little bent! Like, a kink in the middle, sticking up then bending further, toward his belly button, his belly sticking out a little, his penis almost touching.

She rolled on her side, reached across, touched his tip, held her finger there.

He twitched; she smiled. She knew exactly what that was about.

She pulled her hand back, was quiet for a while.

He let her think.

"I wanna try something."

He was willing to listen.

"I wanna, touch yours. With mine. To, you know, stimulate both of us."

That sounded fine. Kind of a science experiment.