Bizirik Berriro (Alive Again)

Chapter 9

He pulled into a small street off a pedestrian path in Indautxu, and ducked into a parking garage underneath the building. There were rows of expensive cars filed in the underground space.

He got out of the car, and I followed suit.

"Are you taking me up to your house?" I asked. He nodded.

"We need to clean you up," he replied.

"You have clothes and makeup up there?" I joked. He gave me a weak smile.

"No, but we can figure something out." I didn't even think I needed a change of clothes until I realized I must have sat there for over an hour in the drizzle and spray from the fountain so I probably did look like a drowned rat.

The opulence of the apartment was astounding. The building must have been built in the late 18th or early 19th century but had recently been redone so all the fixtures were modern, but maintaining a classical feel. It certainly looked like a bachelor pad, however, when I looked into the living room and found five different video game consoles with controllers everywhere. From the looks of it, besides the apartment, most of the money he spent was on video games and gadgets.

He led me into his bedroom, the huge king-sized bed looking like it hadn't been made for months –and probably hadn't– and clothes spilling out from the closets and all over the floor.

"Sorry for the mess, but the only people who come over never see my bedroom," he explained, filing through the drawers and clothing rods in the closet that, surprisingly enough, still had clothes in them. He probably had more clothes than I did. I giggled quietly, still scanning the room.

A few minutes later, he handed me a shirt and a pair of boxers to put on.

"You're not serious."

"Do you want to walk around in wet clothes the rest of the day?" he asked. I shook my head. God, this was so awkward. He pointed to the bathroom door and I went to change. Only my top layers were wet so I shed them and slipped on the enormous button-down shirt he'd handed me, and I skipped the boxers since after three tries I couldn't manage to get them to stay on. And I refused to look in the mirror.

I stepped out of the bathroom and tossed the boxers to him.

"They don't fit," I said. He laughed.

"Thought it was worth a try." At least the shirt was long enough. "You should um...wash your face though." He stifled a laugh. I rolled my eyes.

"Fine." I scrubbed my eyes until they hurt and could no longer see black on my fingers. I still felt like crap, and looked like crap, even without the runny makeup. That was the problem. I hardly ever wore the stuff, but lately I'd found myself making more use of it since Nagore had given me that "makeover". And I just felt so inadequate, so exposed without it now that I wanted to lock myself away forever.

He wasn't even in the vicinity when I stepped out of the bathroom. I found him in the living room, flipping through channels on the high definition flat-screen TV. He turned to look at me and smiled.

"Don't look," I said.

"You look great," he replied.

"Liar."

"I can't compliment you?"

"Not when you're lying."

"I'm not."

"Yes you are." Tears welled in my eyes. I thought I'd exhausted them at Moyua but it looked like I hadn't. Maybe it was that time of the month. It could very well have been. I just wanted to run out of there and hide. I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to hide as much as I could.