Read Online The Best People in the World by Justin Tussing - Free Book Online

Florida, and if Alice only said the word, then the brother would hop in his plane and fly up and show her a good time. The brother had built the plane in his garage.
    She turned the lights off, but she couldn’t go to bed. Had she invited this stranger into her home only so that she could worry about him? That took the cake. But in the next moment, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs and she waited in the darkened living room as the door opened. Shiloh slipped inside, made his way across the darkened room to the reading lamp, which he snapped on—hadn’t she broken the bulb off inside the socket? How does a person learn to fix things like that?
    Shiloh saw Alice sitting on the sofa.
    â€œYou want me to boil you some water or something?” He gave her just a fleeting look and he was in the kitchen putting the kettle on.
    â€œThat would be nice.” She looked at her watch. It was a quarter till four. “I was waiting up for you,” she said.
    â€œOh,” he said. There were a couple of cups in the sink and he quickly washed them. He came back in, drying his hands on a dishtowel. “You’re upset about something.”
    â€œI’m not upset. I just don’t understand where a person can go, in this town, at four in the morning.”
    He went back into the kitchen and grabbed a butter knife. Holding it in front of her face, he turned the blade so she saw her reflection. Her eyes were red rimmed, her lashes clumped together.
    â€œI wanted to thank you for fixing the toaster,” she said, emotion choking her throat.
    â€œAll I did was clean it,” he said.
    â€œWell, it doesn’t make that burning smell anymore.” She stood up suddenly, disappointed in herself.
    â€œI’ll be out of your hair in a couple of weeks.”
    â€œOh,” said Alice. “Are you building another house?”
    â€œI’m returning somewhere.”
    â€œI’m prying.”
    â€œNot at all. The water coming up sent me a message. I used to be very absorbed in myself, but now I’m very absorbed outside myself.”
    She found herself nodding.
    â€œYou’re a really great roommate,” said Alice.
    â€œI ought to be,” said Shiloh. “I’m an anarchist.”
    â€œYou’re an anarchist?” repeated Alice.
    Shiloh was all too glad to explain. “Anarchists make the best roommates. Socialists are shit. They’ll rob you blind.”
    Alice went to her room and shut the door. She heard him get up and, for a moment, she was afraid that he’d misunderstood her. She was afraid he might knock on her door, or, worse, just come in. She felt stupid. She followed his footsteps into the kitchen. He turned the burner off. Then he returned to the living room—she would have sworn she heard him shuffling something, a soft cardboard sound, a deck of cards, maybe.
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    It was like what, these days, is called an intervention. I’d been in my room daydreaming when Mary and Fran came in. They stood there, between me and the door, sort of looking and not looking at the window.
    â€œBasically,” said Fran, “your mother and I are very patient people. But for some reason you seem bent on discovering the limits of our patience. Let me tell you that we have more patience than you do. Knowing how you spend your time is basically a right we have.”
    Mary addressed me. “It might not make sense to you, but, as your parents, we need you to tell us who you’ve been spending time with.”
    â€œHere’s the deal,” said Fran. “Your mother and I have to meet this person, so you’re going to invite your little friend over for dinner.”
    â€œWe’re not offering you a choice,” said Mary.
    â€œIt’s Shiloh Tanager,” I announced.
    â€œHe’s kidding. You’re kidding, right? The river rat?” Fran leaned over and butted his head against the doorjamb.
    Mary called my bluff.