Stella and the Boxer

Chapter 7

Charlie’s dog Cooper, a black lab mix, greets us as soon as we enter from the garage.  

"He doesn't see much company, so he gets excited," Charlie smiles. I bend to my knees and pet the happy pup, telling him hello. While Charlie gives me a small tour of the house, Cooper stays by my side.

His house is more impressive than I could have imagined. Not impressive in a grandiose, flashy way; I am impressed because it feels like a real home – cozy and inviting, and pridefully kept. We enter the kitchen first from his garage, and it is extremely clean. The kitchen cabinets are white and the counters and island bar are topped with dark, cutting block wood. It is actually a fairly spacious kitchen with nice, new appliances, despite the antiquity of the house itself. 

As a whole, the house is small, but all of the rooms are very open. A large doorway leads from the kitchen straight into the living room. All of the floors are dark wood, and the walls, an antique white with crown and kick molding in wood even darker than the floors.

Charlie’s living room is rectangular, stretching in length to the wall opposite from the kitchen. In front of a large cabinet, in which a television and speakers are half hidden, sits a plush, distressed leather couch – an intentional kind of distressed, of course. There is a square coffee table, too, and various other classic living room surroundings.

Also in the living room are two large shelves full of books: novels, poetry books, old encyclopedias, biographies. At a glance, it seems that he prefers reading nonfiction. 

In one of the shelves, the bottom two rows contain a collection vinyl records. Really good vinyl records, and I finally notice that a record player sits in the corner of the living room, on the wall where we entered from the kitchen. There is a record already on the turntable and a few albums lie next to it, but I don’t see their titles.

Charlie had always kept the music very low in his car, since we were usually talking, and the only time we’d discussed music at all was when he’d noticed Elvis playing in my car. But I can tell from just glancing at his collection that he has very good taste.

Both the front and backyard doors are reached from the living room. Charlie’s backyard is very well kept, like the front. There are healthy plants and lots of trees surrounding the house. There is a large bench swing that hangs from the covered back porch. It looks perfectly tempting to sit in, but Charlie continues the tour.

A hallway from the living room leads us to two more rooms. The first – a door on the right – is closed, and Charlie simply tells me that it is his office. Charlie’s bedroom is through the second door, on the left side of the hallway. Upon entering the room, Cooper trots contently to his large, pillowy bed on the floor in front of Charlie's, and sits down. He stares at me, as if to show off his favorite place. 

Charlie's bathroom is entered from the bedroom, and it has been kept as clean as the rest of his home. It features a separate bathtub and shower, and a small, walk-in closet.

“You are lucky,” I say. “This is quite the space for a twenty-year-old living on his own.”

He smiles, tilting his head a bit. I think he feels proud of his nice little home, and it deserves praise.

“I am going to change out of these clothes, it will only take a minute. Please, make yourself comfortable,” he says. I nod and and take a seat on the large bed, folding my arms in my lap.

"You don't have to change if you're comfortable, not for me," I speak towards the bathroom, listening to Charlie as he shuffles about in his closet. 

"Don't worry," Charlie calls lightly. "I get my fill of wearing workout clothes. It is a privilege when I can change into something a bit nicer." 

I don't respond immediately, but after a moment, I laugh. "I must think very highly of myself to assume that you were changing specifically for me," I joke. Of course Charlie would want to change out of the sweaty clothes that he'd been wearing all day.