“No, it’s an eating disorder clinic.” He said it with a casual sadness, as if everybody knew about the place. “I know I gave you a hard time about Reggie before, but y’know . . . ” He trailed off to a mumble, got up, and walked to the kitchen. Pacing back and forth across the tiles, for once he did not appear to be in a laughing mood. “You know we thought Blue Bonnet was pregnant a few months ago? Not sure how it would have happened because she’s not a roamer like Reggie. I see him out in your yard a lot, but Blue likes to stay inside with the girls. So, it was weird, y’know, when she started to put on weight.” I shrugged, agreeing, and sipped my glass of ginger ale. “Turns out she wasn’t pregnant. Claudia had been feeding Blue her bag lunches we’d packed her for school.” He took a slow turn around the kitchen, looking for a distraction. Peering down the hallway, he examined the chipped paint on my bedroom door. “You like living alone?” he asked. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear. It had taken me a few months after my divorce was finalized to slide off my gold wedding band. I kept the ring in one of the tackle boxes on a high shelf in the garage. Rubin, unaware of my marriage and divorce, thought I was savoring the bachelor life, that I was just another clueless single guy. “It’s got its ups and downs,” I said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a roommate.” “A wife’s different than a roommate.” I couldn’t tell if he’d just found me out, but he thanked me and wished me good luck with the dog. Hours after Rubin had left and cars had stopped passing in the street at regular intervals, I still couldn’t sleep. I’d watched part of a late night comedy roast of Doug Shipley, the stand-up comedian turned blues singer turned B-list actor. I took a shower, soaping my freckled arms and trying to avoid looking at my doughy stomach as I dried off. Returning to bed, I opened a
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