Good For Gone

Pink Razor

"Hold still." I say, trying to keep his chin pinched between my fingers. I could tell he wasn't fully comfortable being touched, so I kept it to a minimum, but it was a challenging thing to avoid when you were trying to shave a face.

Not to mention his head whipped around every time he heard a noise.

"Are you sure I really need to shave? I think it looks fine." I ran my bright pink razor down his jawline.

"You're starting to look like a crazy mountain man. The only reason you can get away with being is public is because you look like a big baby underneath the hair."

Luckily he'd grown used to my gentle prodding the last few weeks. Although it's not like he had a choice, we spent every day together.

Our days were simple, filled with reading out loud, learning songs on the guitar, and occasionally venturing out into the public eye. All the while, slowly breaking some of his rules.

From the occasional fleeting touch to the one time he nearly puked up an Altoid. Every day was a step closer.

Since he was completely oblivious to the concept of shaving, this was a step too. He was sitting, back uncomfortably rigid, on my toilet seat while I sat on the edge of my sink. The cream on his face filled the room with the strong scent of mangoes.

"It's not my fault I'm cute," he looked like he was going to add something but was cut off by the front door.

"Bowen? You home?" My dad called from the kitchen. I jumped off the sink, trying to think of what to do.

He'd never met Peter before, although he'd obviously been suspicious of how I spent my days. So it probably wasn't worth hiding.

I turned back to Peter, who wasn't hiding his panic well, "You go to college with my friend Callie, understand?"

He nodded, shaving cream dripping off his chin.

"I'm in here." I called back, leaving the bathroom with Peter in tow.

My dad turned around, eyebrows raising at the sight of the gawky boy covered in women's having cream, "Is this the mystery man everyone keeps talking about?"

"Yeah," I said, fighting the urge to feel uncomfortable, "this is Peter."

Luckily Peter had no qualms about touching men, so after my dad extended his hand he took it without too much of a hesitation.

"Okay." My dad said simply, letting go and moving across the kitchen to dig a soda out of the fridge, "I trust your judgement, kiddo."

"Thanks." I said, feeling relieved.

He shrugged, popping the top and taking a sip, "I know how I raised you. Why should I treat you like you're stupid?" He smiled at the both of us, "Anyway, I'm picking up a pizza later if you guys want any." And with that he went into the living room and clicked on the TV.

I turned back to Peter, who still looked unsure, "See, that wasn't so bad." And we disappeared back into the bathroom to finish my poor attempt at shaving his face.

The rest of the day involved him reading a book out loud while I painted my nails. I'd tried introducing him to television, but he was still warming up to it.

Dad left and came back with a pizza about a half an hour later and we all gathered in the living room with paper plates on our laps. Harley hid in my dad's room as usual. He wasn't a big fan of Peter.

We watched a basketball game and stuffed our faces. The pizza was a relief too, it had been hard trying to convince Peter that using utensils to eat was not sinful, and even harder to try and explain how to use them period.

"So your mom called." My dad said after the final buzzer, "she really wants you to come see her."

I groaned in protest.

"I know, I know, but you have to at least see her once before you go to college." I did my best to ignore the rapidly approaching move in day. The last thing I wanted to do was to move hours away and be stuck with people I didn't know, especially not now.

"Fine."

"She's free this weekend, so you can head up tomorrow." He said getting up and taking his plate to the trashcan.

"I guess," I sighed and then looked over to Peter, "I guess I better drive you home."

He nodded and stood up. We went and gathered some of the books and things we'd brought over and then walked out to my car.

"Why don't you want to see your mom?" He asked as he got into the passenger seat.

"We just don't see eye to eye. Plus we barely know one another. They divorced when I was three, she took Cameron and my dad took me. So there's always been a bit of favoritism going on on both sides."

"Huh," was all he said, and it kind of made me feel like an asshole. He didn't even have a family, and here I was picking mine apart.

We drove back to the wooded area where I always park the car. The neighbors were nowhere in sight so we walked freely to the house

He used his key to unlock the front door, which we had reinforced with extra locks for safety. Both his and everybody else's.

"Do you think you'll be okay while I'm gone?"

He laughed it off, "Of course. I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself occasionally."

I put my hands up, "Just making sure."