Boys of RDA

Chapter 3: Missing Umbrellas

"So, here I am helping you again and I left the umbrella this morning. Even if you didn't need it, the intent was there. I've racked up some serious brownie points. I deserve to know at least one of these rules Ryland has saddled you with."

It hasn't rained today, but outside my door this morning was a bright pink and black polka-dotted umbrella. I peeked a look toward Finn's door as I tucked it away in my large black purse. I wondered if Finn had dropped it off last night or early this morning and then promptly forgot about it this afternoon.

How did I forget the umbrella? Rather than show my appreciation, I had him carry groceries for me. "Thank you for the umbrella. I love the polka-dots and pink is one of my favorite colors." I rush out.

We stop at the fourth floor entry while Finn shifts his bag and types in the code. "You're welcome. You felt like a pink person. You're happy even with a scraped knee. Now, don't change the subject. Give me one good rule."

His kid-like happiness over my living situation makes me laugh. "Okay. Okay. Let me get these inside first."

I unlock my door and dump my bag on the kitchen counter. There isn't room for a dining room table in the tiny space, but I do have two tall pine stools tucked under the breakfast bar area. Finn follows my movements but makes sure the fruit stops before any roll off the side.

"Okay, so Rule 2 is no playing music past nine at night." I've delayed as long as I can, but I want to start him off small. I hope the fallout of this conversation won't be me losing my apartment should Finn decide to tattle on me.

"That is so lame. No one wants to listen to their neighbors' loud music at night. I need a better one." Finn starts to unpack my grocery bag by placing everything on the counter. "Ryland lives in his own world and he thinks everyone else should too. He made you agree to something crazier for sure."

I move deeper into the kitchen and watch him over the counter space. "No, you don't understand. The rule says I can't listen to music. Any music past nine o'clock. I'm allowed to watch television, but only if the decibel is at a level to not be heard in any adjoining room." I quote from my lease agreement.

Finn still doesn't look shocked by my declaration. "Trust me. I've been friends with Ry for most of our lives, he's one of the pickiest people I know. He can do better than that. You have good ones you aren't sharing."

I'm caught. "Okay. How about I'm not allowed to have more than two people over at any given time?"

That makes Finn laugh. "Now there's a Ryland rule. How does he even plan to regulate it? Random searches?"

His laugh is infectious and soon I join in, "I don't know. I didn't ask. I only know a few people in the city so I wasn't too worried. No wild keggers for me."

"I want to test these rules with you. Can you get special permission for family visits? How many siblings do you have? Can we pack them all in here? What if they all stand in the hallway? Does that count?" he asks as he pulls out a stool and takes a seat. His mind is obviously whirling through nefarious options.

"No. No, testing the rules. Remember you promised it would stay between the two of us?"

"All right, fine, but we could have some serious fun with this in the future if you change your mind," he says.

I can't stop myself from looking at him every few moments as I put away my groceries. Finn isn't wearing the glasses he had on yesterday and I miss them. They added to his boyish, carefree look. He's again in a pair of jeans and a thermal shirt. Red this time. I'm starting to think the combination might be his signature wardrobe choice. "Don't hold your breath. My brother and his wife are my only family so even with all of them I wouldn't break the rule."

"Yeah, but what if your parents visit?" he presses.

I hate sharing this part of my story. I don't want to see the pity that colors every eye after they learn I'm an orphan. My brother is all the family I've needed in years. I've come to terms with it and I wish everyone else would too.

"Um, I don't have parents. They died in a car accident when I was six." As I knew they would, the words suck all the humor from the room.

Finn's lips fall and right on cue, pity stretches across his features. "I'm sorry. You were so young. Who raised you?"

I go back to my groceries so I don't have to continue eye contact. "It's okay. I've had years to deal with it. I grew up in Maine. The roads were icy and it was dark. My dad lost control of the car." The words are said without emotion. I've told the story so many times I can recount the incident without breaking face. It's as if it's someone else's story now.

"My grandmother raised me and my brother in Southern California until she died and then my brother took over until I turned eighteen." My Grandma's death is still fresh and reducing her story to a sentence makes my heart hurt. She was so much more to us both. "Do you want a drink?" I need to keep busy so the memories don't take over. Crying is a real mood killer.

Finn fidgets as he gets up from his stool. Great, now I've made this awkward. "No, thanks. I normally would, but I have to meet my friends before they turn out a search party for me."

"Right. I forgot. Thanks for your help with the groceries."

He makes his way to the door and turns before he lets himself out. "I'll see you tomorrow, Aspen. Be ready to share another rule. I'll get them all out of you eventually."

My, "Goodbye," follows him out the door.

Everything was going great until I had to go and ruin it with my gloomy history. Regardless of what he said, I am never going to see Finn again. People often cut and run when they don't think they know the right sentiment to convey. As if there is some magical set of words to heal all the pain from losing loved ones.