Becoming Grey: Episode 27

Chapter 27

January 22, 2022

Callie had written eggs on the grocery list three times and still nearly left the store without them. The first entry was beneath milk, the second beside the ingredients for dinner, and the third was in larger letters at the bottom because she had forgotten them last week. She noticed all three while waiting to pay, looked into the cart, and found yogurt, apples, pasta, and the cereal Juna had negotiated for by promising she would eat it. No eggs. Callie turned the cart around before the woman behind her could mistake the sigh for a complaint about the line.

“We’re going the wrong way,” Juna said from the seat.

“I forgot something.” Callie steered around a display of soup cans and went back toward the refrigerated cases. The list was on her phone because she had left the paper version beside her coursework, where it would have been very useful to someone buying groceries at the kitchen table. She had copied it before leaving. Apparently copying was not the same as reading.

“We have my yogurt.” Juna leaned sideways to inspect the bags of produce as though the missing item might be hiding beneath them.

“We do. We also need eggs.” Callie checked the carton before putting it in the cart, then marked the entry off on her phone. She could remember the resistor values for the circuit she had been working on all morning. She could not reliably remember what they needed for breakfast. At least the mistake had cost her a walk across the store rather than another drive.

Back at the registers, she joined a shorter line and took Juna’s cereal out from beneath the apples. A woman ahead of them had a portable habitat secured in the child seat of her cart. Through its clear side, Callie could see a man sitting near a small table, with a dark collar visible above his shirt. She had seen more habitats in shopping carts since returning from Christmas in Minnesota. Some had protective covers that made it impossible to see the person inside. The man could see her through the panel, and she bent toward it when he spoke.

The cashier asked the woman a question about the bread. She looked toward the habitat, then lifted the two loaves so its occupant could see them. He pointed, and she put one back on the belt. Callie could not hear the conversation over the scanner and the register beside them, but she had become accustomed to watching people lean closer rather than expecting a Little’s voice to carry. In class, Oliver had a microphone. In a grocery store, the freezer fans and somebody moving a stack of baskets could cover an entire sentence.

Juna followed her gaze. “He has a house.”

“Something like Professor Frank’s.” Callie moved their cart forward as the woman began collecting her bags. “He can take it with him.”

“Does he have a purple dog?” Juna asked.

“I don’t know.” Callie kept the cereal from tipping off the edge of the belt while Juna considered whether the habitat was large enough for Gus. She did not point or call across the checkout, which was an improvement over the first time she had seen someone being carried through campus. Callie had explained that people did not need an announcement every time they went somewhere. Juna had begrudgingly agreed, then asked whether she could announce herself instead.

The cashier greeted them and began scanning. Juna reported that they had remembered the eggs, making it sound like a joint achievement. Callie paid, checked that the carton was not beneath anything heavy, and put her phone back into the pocket of her jacket. Outside, rain was falling lightly enough that she had hoped they could get to the car before it started raining any harder. They could not. Juna wanted to know why the curb was painted, whether the puddle was deep, and if she could hold the receipt. By the time Callie fastened her into the RAV4, the shoulders of her own jacket were damp and the receipt had become a small wet roll.

January in California still felt wrong whenever she spoke to her family. Hannah had sent a picture of snow along the driveway that morning, with a complaint about having to clear it before work. Callie had replied with the view from their kitchen window and received a message telling her that nobody liked her. Here she needed a jacket for the rain, but she could leave the apartment without working out whether Juna’s boots would fit over two pairs of socks. There were advantages. She was less grateful for them while trying to load the last grocery bag before the paper handles softened.

At the apartment building, she found a space closer to the entrance than usual. She sat for a moment after turning off the engine, looking at the bags in the back and deciding whether two trips would be sensible. Two trips would require getting Juna inside, persuading her to remain there, and going back out. Maggie was at the design studio and had already warned that the project was taking longer than her group had expected. Callie could bring Juna back down with her, but her daughter was tired of the car and had removed one shoe as soon as they parked. Callie put it back on, took the eggs separately, and attempted one trip.

It went well until they reached the building door. Callie had the heavier bags in her right hand, two lighter ones looped over her left wrist, and the egg carton pressed against her side. Juna was holding the fingers she could still reach and carrying Gus under her other arm. The keys were in the jacket pocket beneath the lighter bags. Callie could get to them if she set something down, but the mat was wet and Juna had begun trying to step onto its raised edge.

“Stay with me.” Callie shifted the carton higher and tried to free her thumb. One of the bags slid toward her hand, pulling the jacket sleeve with it.

“I am with you.” Juna looked up, offended by an instruction she thought she was already following.

“I know. I need you to stand still while I get the door.” Callie stopped trying to reach the keys and looked for a dry place to put the eggs. She had been here long enough to know how this door worked, which made being defeated by it especially irritating. Behind the glass, a man coming down the corridor noticed them and changed direction.

He opened the door and held it while she maneuvered the bags through. He was wearing jeans and a dark sweatshirt, with a jacket over one arm and a set of keys in his hand. Callie recognized him vaguely from the hallway earlier in the week, carrying a box that had obscured most of his face. Now she could see him properly. He had dark hair, damp at the ends as though he had already been outside, and was looking at the handles cutting into her fingers.

“Want me to take a couple of those?” he asked.

“Yes, please.” Callie lifted her right hand enough for him to catch the handles. “Those two. The one underneath has cans.”

He transferred his keys to his jacket pocket and took both bags. Callie flexed her fingers, recovered Juna’s hand, and adjusted the eggs. He waited while she got everything settled rather than starting up the hall without knowing where she was going.

“I’m just down here,” she said, nodding toward the corridor.

“So am I.” He looked at Juna when she stepped between them to examine the bags he was carrying. “Did you buy something important?”

“My yogurt.” Juna reached toward the lighter bag still on Callie’s wrist. “It’s in that one.”

“Then your mom’s got it.” He stepped back enough to give her room when she tried to turn around without letting go of Callie’s hand.

“Come on.” Callie led her toward the hallway. Now that she could use her right hand, finding the apartment key took about two seconds. “Thank you. I thought I could do it in one trip.”

“You nearly did.” He followed a little behind them, keeping the bags clear of Juna’s swinging dog. “I’m Ryan, by the way. I moved in last week.”

“Callie.” She stopped at her door and fitted the key into the lock. “And this is Juna.”

“Juna,” her daughter repeated, making sure he had heard it correctly.

Ryan nodded. “Hi, Juna.”

“That’s your apartment?” Callie asked, glancing toward the door beyond the one between theirs. She had seen boxes stacked inside it while someone was moving a chair through the corridor.

“Yeah. I’m still finding things.” Ryan stopped beside her while she opened the door. “Yesterday I found the coffee. Haven’t found the mugs yet.”

“We did that with a phone charger.” Callie pushed the door wide and guided Juna over the threshold. “It was in the box with the pans. Nobody admitted putting it there.”

Juna tried to get ahead of her and nearly caught Gus on the door. Callie freed his ear, moved the carton into her right hand, and pointed toward the kitchen counter. “You can put them there, if you don’t mind.”

Ryan followed her in and set the bags down, checking that the second had enough room before releasing it. He stayed beside the counter while Callie put the eggs safely beyond Juna’s reach. The apartment looked as it usually did on a Saturday afternoon: a few toys on the rug, Maggie’s sketchbook open at one end of the table, and Callie’s notebook at the other with a pencil laid across a drawing. She moved a preschool painting out of the way of the damp bags and peeled off her jacket.

Juna deposited Gus on a chair and came back to supervise. “Mommy, yogurt.”

“I have to put the cold things away first.” Callie opened the refrigerator and moved a container of leftovers onto the upper shelf. “You can have one when I find them.”

“They’re in the bag.” Juna pointed firmly, as though Callie might have forgotten the entire transaction between the car and the kitchen.

Ryan looked into the bag nearest him. “This one?”

“Yes.” Juna came closer, watching while he lifted out the pack.

Callie took it from him and separated one pot before her daughter could claim the whole thing. “Thank you. That should buy me almost four minutes.”

“Does the spoon come out of that?” Juna asked, trying to lift the foil with her fingernail.

“No. Sit at the table, and I’ll get you one.” Callie pulled out a chair and set the yogurt in front of it. Juna climbed up, then remembered Gus and had to climb down again. Callie watched her fetch him, put him on the neighboring chair, and sit for the second time. When she turned back, Ryan had moved the milk out of the bag but left it on the counter for her to put away.

“I should let you get on,” he said.

“You’re fine.” Callie put the milk on its shelf and shut the refrigerator. “Are you new to the area or just the building?”

“Both. I’m from New York.” He glanced at her notebook, then back to her. “You?”

“Minnesota. We came out in August for school.” Callie took a spoon from the drawer and carried it to Juna. She had heard his accent now that he had said where he came from, although she would not have picked it out on her own. “Pacifica Polytechnic.”

“Engineering?” Ryan asked, nodding toward the drawing on the table.

“Electrical.” Callie looked at the page, which was still showing the version she had crossed out that morning. “That one’s wrong.”

“I wasn’t going to check it.” He smiled, and she noticed that he looked more relaxed when he did.

“Good. I’ve got enough people checking it already.” She returned to the bags and lifted out the pasta. The damp paper had begun to tear near the bottom, so she held it up while taking out the last cans. Ryan caught one before it could roll off the counter and set it beside the others.

“Do you work around here?” she asked.

“At a bookstore. Not far from campus.” He gave her its location, and Callie recognized the row of shops, although she had not been inside that one. “I started this week. I know where about six things are.”

“You’re ahead of me with the eggs.” Callie put the can in the cupboard and reached for the cereal.

Juna looked up with yogurt on her upper lip. “We went back.”

“We did.” Callie tore the empty bag along its weakened fold so it would lie flat for recycling. “Apparently we’ll be telling people that for a while.”

Ryan took his jacket from where he had folded it over his arm. “Thanks for telling me about the chargers. I’ll try the kitchen boxes.”

“I wouldn’t recommend our system.” Callie walked him to the door while Juna returned her attention to the yogurt. “Thanks again for the bags.”

“No problem.” Ryan stepped into the hall and turned toward his apartment. He had been on his way out when he opened the building door for them, Callie remembered. She hoped they had not made him late. Before she could ask, he lifted his keys in a brief goodbye and continued down the corridor.

Callie shut the door, hung her jacket, and went back to finish putting the groceries away. The apples had left a damp patch beneath their bag. She wiped it up, checked the eggs for damage, and put them in the refrigerator before she could find something else to do with them. Juna had managed to get yogurt on the spoon handle, the edge of the table, and one finger she was using to draw a line beside the pot.

“Keep it in the yogurt.” Callie handed her a cloth.

“Ryan carried the bags,” Juna said while wiping the line into a larger patch.

“He did.” Callie took over the cloth before the patch reached Maggie’s sketchbook. It had been a pleasant conversation, and he was good-looking. She had noticed both. She also had a child with yogurt drying on her face and groceries still taking up most of the counter. She put the last things away, rinsed the cloth, and asked Juna whether she wanted to help wash the apples.

Maggie arrived an hour later carrying a rolled drawing and looking damp enough that Callie could tell she had forgotten the umbrella. She left her shoes beside the door, put the drawing carefully beyond the reach of the bowl of apples, and bent to accept Gus when Juna offered him. Callie was at the table again, trying to work through the circuit without checking the crossed-out answer. The problem had stayed wrong while she was shopping. She had hoped a fresh look would make the mistake obvious.

“Did you bring everything?” Maggie asked, inspecting the grocery list beside the notebook.

“Yes. Including eggs.” Callie turned the page before Maggie could discover how many times she had written them down.

“Excellent. Personal growth.” Maggie set Gus beside Juna and went to hang her jacket. “Anything exciting happen?”

“The new neighbor helped bring the groceries in.”

“The one down the hall?” Maggie pulled the jacket straight on its hook. “I saw someone moving in.”

“Ryan. He opened the building door, then carried a couple of bags.” Callie moved her pencil along the lower branch of the diagram and finally saw where she had copied a connection incorrectly. She erased it before the thought could disappear.

“Did you ask him to help?”

“He offered.” Callie redrew the line and checked the original question. “I had Juna, all the bags, and the eggs. I couldn’t get to my keys.”

“Reasonable.” Maggie came to the table and looked at the calculation. “Is that the same problem?”

“It would’ve been a lot easier if I’d copied it correctly.”

“Most things are.” Maggie sat down, moved the sketchbook to her side, and unrolled her drawing. Callie had expected another question about Ryan, but the project had apparently gone badly enough to take priority. One member of Maggie’s group had changed a measurement without telling anyone, and they had spent the afternoon discovering that their pieces would not fit together. Callie listened while Juna washed an apple with such dedication that water began spreading from the bowl toward the drawing.

The campus email arrived while Callie was moving the bowl to the counter. The subject line mentioned updated room arrangements, which usually meant she needed to check whether she was supposed to be somewhere different on Monday. This one concerned shared equipment for instructors and students who were Littles. Several rooms were being fitted with additional power connections and protected teaching spaces. Some office appointments would move during the work. Callie checked Oliver’s name, found his temporary room number, and copied it into the calendar she actually used.

“Is something canceled?” Maggie asked.

“No. They’re working on the rooms.” Callie showed her the email, then put the phone down before Juna could reach it with wet hands. “Professor Frank’s office hours are moving.”

“Again?”

“It’s only for a week.” Callie had already gone to the old room once after an earlier change and spent several minutes wondering why it had become a storage cupboard. This time she added a second reminder. At the start of the fall, seeing Oliver on his teaching platform had occupied most of her attention. Now she usually noticed whether the projected diagram matched the handout and whether Brenda was about to announce another lab requirement. The equipment still mattered. She understood that especially well whenever a cable failed and the room had to wait while someone found a replacement.

Maggie studied the list of changes. “They should put the connections somewhere people can actually reach them. Brenda had to move that cabinet last time.”

“I know.” Callie took her phone back and added a note to ask about the office power supply when she saw him. She did not need to redesign the building. She did need to know where she was going on Monday, and Oliver had enough to arrange without students appearing at the wrong door.

By late afternoon, the groceries were put away, Juna’s apple had been cut into pieces she found acceptable, and Callie had finished the circuit calculation. Maggie worked at one end of the table while Callie used the other to prepare dinner. Rain tapped against the kitchen window. Through the wall came the brief sound of something being set down, followed by a scrape along the floor. Callie looked toward the hallway before remembering the new neighbor. He was probably moving furniture. She hoped his boxes were labeled better than theirs had been.

A knock came while she was filling a pot with water. She turned off the tap, dried her hands, and reached the door before Juna could get there. Ryan stood outside with a small folded sheet of instructions in one hand.

“Sorry to bother you.” He held it up. “Do you have a tape measure I could borrow? I bought a bookcase, and I’d like to find out whether it fits before I put the rest together.”

“You’ve started already?” Callie asked.

“A little.” He looked down at the instructions. “I thought the wall was wider.”

“I’ve got one. Give me a second.” Callie left the door open and went to the cupboard where she kept her tools. The tape measure was beneath a packet of picture hooks. She had used it to check the table before they bought it and then put it somewhere she could find it again, a rare enough success that she was pleased when it was still there.

Maggie looked up from the drawing as Callie returned. “Hi. I’m Maggie.”

“Ryan.” He shifted aside when Juna appeared beside Callie carrying Gus. “We met earlier.”

“He carried Mommy’s bags,” Juna told Maggie.

“So I heard.” Maggie smiled at him, then went back to her work rather than getting up. Callie handed him the tape measure.

“The button holds it in place,” she said, noticing where his thumb was resting. “It comes back pretty fast if you let it go.”

“Thanks. I’ll bring it right back.” Ryan put the folded instructions in his pocket and glanced down when Juna lifted Gus toward him.

“He’s a dog,” she explained.

“I can see that.” Ryan bent a little to look at him. “What’s his name?”

“Gus. He lives here.” Juna pointed into the apartment, making it clear that his residence was permanent.

“Good to know.” Ryan straightened and looked at Callie. “Thanks for this.”

Callie closed the door once he had gone. Juna wanted to follow him because she thought measuring the wall sounded interesting. Callie explained that Ryan was busy and they were making dinner, which prompted a question about whether he had dinner at his apartment. She probably should have seen that one coming.

“People have their own food,” she said, guiding Juna back to the kitchen.

“Does he have yogurt?”

“You can ask him another day.” Callie picked up the pot and set it on the stove. Juna accepted this after checking that there was still yogurt in their refrigerator. Maggie waited until she was occupied with Gus before looking over.

“Seems nice.”

“He is.” Callie adjusted the burner and got out a chopping board.

“Good. Someone to borrow things back from when you forget where you put them.” Maggie returned to the drawing before Callie could defend the location of the tape measure, which she had actually remembered.

Ryan returned it before the pasta was done. This time Callie heard him approaching because Juna had appointed herself to listen for the knock. She opened the door with a towel over her shoulder and found him holding the tape with the wrist strap wound neatly around it.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“It fits. The skirting board was what I hadn’t accounted for.” Ryan handed it over. “It’ll be a little farther from the wall than I wanted, but I can live with it.”

“Better than taking it apart.” Callie put the tape on the shelf inside the door so she would remember to return it to the cupboard.

“Definitely.” He noticed the notice pinned beside the building’s hallway board. Callie had walked past it on the way in, too occupied with the groceries to stop. “Have they given everyone a time for that?”

She leaned out far enough to read the heading. The office wanted residents to confirm their emergency contact information, including arrangements for any Littles in the household. The message had been in her email earlier in the week. She had answered it between classes and then reminded Maggie.

“I think you just reply to the office,” she said. “They sent a form. It should be with the things they gave you when you moved in.”

“I’ll look.” Ryan stepped back to let a resident pass between them and the opposite wall, then waited until she had reached her door. “I’m still sorting out which papers I need to keep.”

“I’d keep all of them until you’ve unpacked.” Callie looked at the notice again. “We lost a parking form because it looked like an advert.”

“That sounds like something I’d do.” Ryan moved his keys from one hand to the other. “Thanks. For the tape and the paperwork advice.”

“Very advanced advice. Keep the paper.” Callie smiled, then glanced back as Juna called for her from the table. “I’d better go. She thinks I’m bringing dinner.”

“Right. See you around.” Ryan headed down the hall, and Callie shut the door before Juna could come looking for the promised food.

At the table, Juna explained the grocery encounter to Maggie for the third time. The number of bags Ryan had carried had increased, and Callie corrected it when it reached all of them. Juna was certain he had carried the yogurt, too. Callie decided that particular detail did not need another correction. She ate while Maggie described what her group was going to change on Monday, then let Juna tell them which apples she preferred despite all of them coming from the same bag.

After dinner, Callie called home while Maggie washed the plates. Sally wanted to know how the first weeks back were going. Callie told her about the new coursework and the grocery list, and Juna interrupted to show her Gus, who remained unchanged since the previous call. Hannah appeared behind their mother long enough to ask whether California had experienced the hardship of a puddle yet. Callie turned the phone toward the window.

“That’s rain,” Hannah said. “We have weather.”

“You can keep it.” Callie turned the screen back before Juna could climb onto the chair for a better view of her aunt. She had considered telling them about Ryan, but there was not much to tell beyond the groceries and the tape measure. Sally was already asking what Juna had eaten, and Callie answered while her daughter began arguing that yogurt counted as dinner.

Bedtime involved a book, a request for another book, and an inquiry about whether the new neighbor had found his cups. Callie said she would have to ask him. Juna settled eventually with Gus beneath one arm, and Callie stayed until she stopped shifting against the pillow. Through the partly open bedroom door she could hear Maggie putting the drawing away and the soft thump of a cupboard closing. She checked that Juna’s water was within reach and went back to the kitchen.

Maggie had left a space for her at the table. Callie sat, opened the preparation sheet for Monday, and moved the tape measure out of the way of her notebook. She had almost put it down and forgotten it after all. She returned it to the tool cupboard, checked the new office number in her calendar, and came back to the first question. She checked the first question against her notes, turned the page so she would have room for the calculation, and reached for her pencil. From the bedroom, Juna called that she needed water. Callie looked toward the corridor, reminded herself that it was already beside the bed, and got up to show her where she had put it.

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