18. Davis

Davis knew he didn’t have to drive down the mountain to help Jeremy. He could have easily sent him three YouTube videos that would have explained how to do everything and a list of basic tools he would need to have in his house. But, as he so rarely did these days, Davis indulged himself in being a bit selfish. He could go down the mountain, spend some time with his new friend, and swing by the bike shop afterward. Maybe even splurge on something new for the kitchen at the cabin. A new mug. Some artisan ginger beer. And, of course, Mary Anne needed treats. He should probably buy Alex a thank-you gift for all the times he ended up watching Mary Anne. But from the photographs and videos that Alex had sent in the past hour, it looked like Caveman and Mary Anne were best friends.

And if he thought a little about how his new friend was unfairly gorgeous, well, that just came with the territory. Lots of people were attractive.

Jeremy took a sip of his tea and looked around his living room. “This room is mostly done, but the kitchen has been giving me a bit of trouble. They’re all little things, but other than the living room and the back porch, it’s the room I’m in the most.”

Davis didn’t think about the fact that Jeremy’s bedroom was not on the list of the most used places in his house.

“Do you like to cook?” Davis asked. It wasn’t what he had intended to ask. He had meant to ask what projects, specifically, Jeremy needed done today, but he wanted to know why these rooms were the most used.

“I do,” Jeremy said, smiling. “It’s one of the ways I like to unwind after work. I occasionally still sketch and paint a bit, but I do a lot of design work at, well, work, so I like to turn that part of my brain off sometimes.”

Davis chuckled. “I know what you mean. There’s nothing better for me to clear my head than a hike, but when I’ve been hiking all day, I tend to just sit on my couch and play video games.” Wow, could he sound more boring?

“Nice,” Jeremy said. “I think the last video game I played was Spyro the Dragon.” Because he probably read giant hardback books about smart, artsy things that would give Davis a headache. “Anyway, the kitchen is there.” Davis followed him down the hallway and to the right, to a kitchen that was smaller than would be currently designed, but seemed, surprisingly, to fit Jeremy well. An expansive window above the sink overlooked a small backyard. Davis could see a table, chairs, a few plants in pots. Cozy. Not his style of nature, obviously, but enough soil and greenery to restore the soul. Plus, a view of the mountains. “That view is one of the reasons I chose this house,” Jeremy said, interrupting Davis’s perusal. “I have a dishwasher, of course, but I like to do dishes by hand and look at the mountains in the evening.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is. However, that sink is giving me trouble recently. I think I need to replace the garbage disposal. Every time I start to look up videos of replacements, they all recommend cleaning it first, and I can’t get over the idea of sticking my hand into that.” He shivered, and Davis suppressed a laugh.

“That’s an easy fix,” Davis said, grateful that he had lived in a house in Huntington with one of those newfangled sinks that eat your scraps, as his uncle had called it the one time he visited. “Can you show me where your electrical panel is first? We can turn off the power to the kitchen so no one’s hand gets eaten.”

Davis didn’t know why he used the word we. Clearly, only one person was needed to flip a switch. Davis followed Jeremy to the back door, opened the panel, and saw that the switches weren’t labeled. He made a mental note to label all the circuits after he fixed this.

“Hey, can you go in the kitchen and let me know when the lights there go off?” Davis asked. Jeremy complied. It was silly, but he missed his presence around him. A few flips, then Jeremy shouted, “That one!” Davis made his way back to the living room and grabbed the necessary tools and a flashlight.

He knelt down and opened the cabinet under the sink. It was tidy and organized underneath, all organic cleaning solutions and folded towels. New sponges, still wrapped in plastic. While Davis was looking, Jeremy was explaining the issue, that the garbage disposal sometimes backed up and sometimes didn’t work. Davis thought it could be a motor issue, perhaps a full replacement if it had finally crapped out. If it wasn’t that, it could be a seal or a pipe fitting issue, and he would have to run to the store and—

“Jeremy?” Davis asked, pulling his lips between his teeth to stop from laughing.

“Yeah? Need a tool? I used to help my mom with the plumbing sometimes in our apartment so she didn’t have to call the super.” A laugh. “What I mean is that I’m really good at holding a flashlight.”

“No, just a quick question.” Davis didn’t know how to ask this without sounding like an ass, so he just barged ahead and did it. “Did you press the reset button?”

“There’s a reset button?”

Well. That answered that question. Davis pressed the small button that had popped out on the bottom of the disposal, then stood up. “Be right back,” he said to Jeremy. He flipped the circuit on, then hustled back to the kitchen. “Okay, try it now,” he instructed Jeremy, who looked a bit bashful. It was adorable.

“This is why the IT staff at the university hate me,” Jeremy said after he turned on the faucet and flipped the switch for the disposal, which roared to life, chomping at the water and the imaginary food waste.

“It’s something that anyone could overlook,” Davis said, overcome with a desire to make Jeremy feel better.

“I mostly feel bad that you drove all this way to press a button.”

“Well, I’m here. Do you have any other projects that you need help with?” Once again, Davis’s words were tumbling out faster than his brain could catch up with. His brain would have come up with a sentence like oh, that’s fine, I have other things to do in town. “I can help label your circuit breakers for you. It’s easier with two people.”

That took less time than expected, becoming almost a game as Jeremy sprinted from room to room, trying to figure out which circuit connected to which set of lights and sockets. Davis cringed at his labels, at his messy handwriting that had gotten him last place in the third-grade handwriting competition back in Anthracite Springs.

They met in the kitchen, and again, Davis was planning on saying something like well, that was something easy, and now I will be on my way to the store when, instead, he said, “You do know that your cabinet doors are all a bit…off, right?”

Jeremy blushed. “I do know that. Is it something else that’s easier to fix with two people?” Davis must have been imagining things at this point, because Jeremy’s face looked almost hopeful.

The cabinets took longer, which led to Jeremy putting on music to accompany their work, and Davis was surprised to find that it was a playlist of 1950s and 1960s pop hits, things that his mother and her sisters would have sung along to on the oldies station they could pick up at the big farmhouse, laughing about stories from their childhood and singing along to the Beach Boys or the Supremes. When Davis asked why Jeremy had chosen the music, he had simply replied that he preferred the simplicity of the pop music of that era, the way the songs followed a nice pattern and were easy to sing along to. Davis couldn’t argue with him there.

It was dusk by the time Jeremy hung the final cabinet door, having progressed from simply holding them in place to leading the alignment of the last few doors. There were two above the refrigerator that Davis couldn’t reach if he tried, anyway, and Jeremy had lifted up on his tiptoes with the grace of a ballet dancer, his limbs stretching and reaching to screw the last hinge into place.

“Voila,” Jeremy said with a flourish. “Though I really should be saying thank you.”

“It wasn’t a bad way to spend a day,” Davis said. “I like feeling helpful.”

“You should meet my friend Phoebe,” Jeremy laughed. And just when Davis was about to take his leave— for real this time, packing up his tools and everything else— his stomach growled. Not in a way that he could pass off as a groan when he stretched or maybe a ghost in the house. It was hunger. He’d grab a sandwich on the way back home. It was getting late anyway. The bike store would be closed, and he really didn’t need anything special from the store for the next week, but Mary Anne did need a raincoat for the rain that was forecasted, and—

“I can order something for us for dinner?” Jeremy said, a question hidden in a statement. “I owe you something for all the help you’ve given me today.”

That was logical. It made sense. “Okay,” Davis replied, setting down his tools. Food was always good. Food was something you did with friends.