They hadn’t even gotten into the kitchen when Jodie had shouted “Mitch,
can you put these away? I gotta hit the bathroom!”, and proceeded to
rush up the stairs.
“So…” Mitch wracked his brain to make conversation while they both set down and emptied out their respective bags. For once, he was determined to take the initiative on getting to know someone. Truth be told, Jodie wasn’t exactly wrong in accusing him of not having manners; he wasn’t ever intentionally rude, he just didn’t know how to make small talk for the life of him. It made him seem obtuse, and perhaps it was high time to work on that.
At the very least, he didn’t leave his groceries for other people to put away.
He pulled out a pair of colorful number shaped candles, examined them, then cleared his throat. “You settling in alright?”
“Yeah, actually!” Avi looked up from a tote with a package of some sort held between his hands. “Kind of reminds me of a boarding house that I stayed at in Japan.”
Mitch went wide-eyed, unsure how to follow along. The most recent years of his life had been spent around Calvin’s WASP friends and being forced to hear about their ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ inspired journeys. Reflexively, walls had gone up and he was ready to feign indifference altogether; but Avi hadn’t expanded any further, just quietly poked around the cabinets to most likely gain familiarity with the kitchen’s layout. And, admittedly, Mitch was a little more interested about a wrestler’s career path than a Manhattan socialite’s slum tour through Mumbai. He could do this. “How long were you in Japan for?” he asked.
“A little over three years.” After glancing over a few magnets and photographs on the fridge door, it was opened and Avi crouched down. He slid some cartons into it, then a few moments later stood back up. Draping his arms across the top of the door, which he was now behind, and rested his chin on them. He was already lacking in height, and this only made him shorter, which was amusing. “Any chance I could get a hand here?”
“Sure. With what?” Mitch abandoned the plastic grocery bag he’d been working through and wandered over. After Avi had moved to the side, Mitch peered into the fridge and gave a low whistle at the total lack of organization. There was a pizza box on top of old Tupperware containers that were haphazardly strewn about; some of them had obviously been there for a while, and had mold growing inside of them. Mitch reached in and yanked them out, and immediately threw them into the trash. “Sorry, this is. Wow.”
“It’s cool,” Avi insisted, waving his hand dismissively. “Just didn’t want to misplace anything.”
“I mean, four people under one roof, guess it’s bound to happen. Not that I’ve uh, really been in here.”
“What, the kitchen?”
“Yeah, I dunno. Not much of an appetite these days?” Avi looked up at him incredulously, and Mitch started to squirm in place. “It’ll come back. Soon, hopefully. I’m just…dealing with some stuff.” Not that he owed an explanation to anyone. He’d already lied to Jodie about eating, and had been called out on his lies numerous times now.
“Your shoulder’s not gonna recover well if you don’t eat,” Avi stated matter-of-factly, and Mitch bristled. He bit back the urge to blurt out that his shoulder wasn’t the reason why he hadn’t eaten in a week, because no one, especially someone that he’d just met, needed to be burdened with his bullshit.
Instead, he choked it down, and let out an indifferent, “Oh. Right.”
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