The hall light was still on, but it was beginning to fade. Must be on some sort of motion sensor. I quickly walk back to the guest room. Wait. I took my stuff to the master suite instead. I turn around and walk across the hall and open the door, all before the light completely dims.
I flip on the switch to turn the lights on. Make that switches. Must be three here. There doesn't seem to be that many lights in here, but who am I to question such an architect's mishmash of styles. All my things are right where I left them, although I still think I smell the faint trace of lemon that was in the kitchen. Odd. I try to push that out of my mind as I have more important worries. Like what to do about Sam and this house. Maybe a quick shower will help me think
Gurgle. Gurgle.
But first I will probably need to use the bathroom. Too many unusual foods in two days is doing a number on my digestive system. I open one of my bags and take out all of my toiletries: body wash, toothbrush and toothpaste, floss, scrubbing pad, my favorite brand of toilet paper (what can I say, I have special tastes), and my two sets of slippers. A plastic set for wet areas, like the bathroom, and a set of leather house shoes for everywhere else. I hope I haven't tracked too much dirt by not changing sooner.
I unbutton my shirt and pull it over my head. I undo the belt just before I remove my dress shoes. Some help they were tonight. I take off my socks before dropping my pants. I sit down on the edge of the bed to take them and my briefs off. When I stand up, I get a good look at my naked self in the large dresser mirror. I'm not that bad. Maybe a little pudgy. Could use some muscle tone. Okay, a lot of muscle tone, but I am not that bad off. Then it happens.
There is always something about being naked in an unusual place that just starts something in me. Give me another minute, and I will be mimicking my dad. Don't think about that. I rush into the bathroom before anything else happens. Not here.
Think about Sam. He's already fourteen. I would only have to take care of him more four more years. That can't be too bad. (I find some fresh towels stacked on a shelf.). I have no idea how to parent, but then neither do many first-timers. Although they usually have family to help. My mom definitely can't be a role-model. (Wipe and flush.). Maybe I could send Sam into the system. Then again, I haven't seen that much from the system yet. Shouldn't there have been someone here, even on a holiday weekend? (Lather up. Can't forget down there. Stay away from that other place.). Another thing, why didn't the lawyers have an actual representative here? That Realtor woman wasn't really informative about what will happen with the house and the other assets. Would I be in charge of them, even if Sam goes elsewhere? I don't want the money, but it always helps. (Dry off. Mustn't forget my feet.). Something just feels wrong. Even this bathroom feels off. (Brush, brush, brush.). Why can't I feel anything about my father, or even a man's touch about? I find it hard to believe that he deferred everything to his wife, even to the point of his shaving. (Floss, floss, floss.). Maybe he used an electric razor, but never in here. I don't know, it all feels like I'm missing something. (And rinse.)
I leave the towel over the shower rack and rush back out. I try not to look in the mirror again, but I can't help myself. Just look, don't touch. But I need to. I quickly put my old briefs back on. They will do until morning. Then, I put on my bed tee and shorts. I prefer being cooler this time of year, so no heavy PJs for me.
Wait. I forgot about the sheets again. It's why I'm in here after all. I can't sleep on the bed and sheets where my father had ... No. I can't look in here for anything. There might be more than drawers in some of these drawers. Instead, I go to the walk-in closet. Lots of dresses, Nothing obvious of my father's either There is a second door at the other end though. I go through it, only to be back in the hall. Where else is there to look?
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