That Blue Gibson

CH 23

"You literally live two houses away?" Liz asked, dropping her helmet on the seat of the sidecar.

"Yep," Dave replied, watching the garage door close behind them. "And Taylor lives three houses down. We like to wave to each other from our decks."

"Bunch of goddamn dorks," Liz said just loud enough for him to hear.

Dave just smiled and held the door to the house for her. She tried to appear impassive, but every bit of her was on edge. Finding herself in a hallway, she watched Dave close the door behind them and walk right past her into the dark. A moment later, the room was flooded by several bright overhead lights causing Liz to shut her eyes tight.

"Shit, sorry," she heard Dave mutter and the sound of light switches being flipped.

She opened one eye to see Dave standing in a starkly bare kitchen, his hand still adjusting a dimmer switch. Looking around, she was surprised at how normal the house was. The hallway she was in opened into a small front entry that led to the kitchen and dining room. Beyond the dining room and on the other side of the hallway wall was a living room with a couch, a stack of half-empty boxes and a single acoustic guitar leaning against the wall. A staircase to the upstairs was directly across the entryway from the hallway Liz was in.

"It's a little depressing," Dave admitted, looking around. "I haven't had time to find anything more permanent since I lived between a fucking airplane and bus all last year."

Liz remained in the hallway, not sure what to say. She had just gone through all this herself, uprooting, relocating, readjusting... it all fucking sucked. She tried to imagine what she would want him to say if she had brought him over to her little farmhouse when it was empty and sad, then remembered it was just her that was empty and sad. Before she could overthink it, she ran up to Dave and wrapped her arms around his waist with such force that he staggered back into the counter behind him. She leaned her head into his chest and sighed.

Dave looked down at the top of Liz's head, momentarily stunned by her embrace. He slowly draped his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on her head. They stood like that for awhile before Liz took a breath. "At least you have a dishwasher," she muttered.

Dave lifted his head and looked over at the stainless steel appliance next to them. "You don't have a dishwasher?" he asked, bewildered.

Liz shook her head against her chest. "I'd have to knock out an entire bank of cabinets and I'd rather not do that in the dead of winter."

"Do you live on a fucking commune?" he asked. Who didn't have a dishwasher?

He felt her laugh a little. "I live on a farm, dummy!" she looked up at him but didn't release her hold on his waist.

Dave's eyes went wide for a second. "I'm just now realizing that I know very little to nothing about you, Liz."

"All right," Liz said, pulling away from him and leaning against the island across from him. "What do you want to know?"

Everything, he thought. "Start with this Farmer Liz business."

She shrugged. "I bought a little farm north of my hometown. The schools are good, the neighbors are far away and the tractor came free."

"Do you like, grow shit?" Dave was not prepared for this conversation, at all.

"No, the neighbors 'grow shit'," she laughed, "They have cattle and chickens."

"Do you have chickens?" Dave leaned forward, for some inexplicable reason he was excited about the prospect of Liz owning chickens.

"A few! Just for the eggs and the bug control. I haven't had to butcher one yet," she explained as if it were a normal thing in the San Fernando Valley.