Trigger Warnings: Racism, Stereotypes, Sexual References

Crista Monroe knew his kind. She’d heard about men like him. Read about them and had the great displeasure of interacting with them throughout her life. Their egos were fragile and must be protected at all costs. She made up her mind to keep her voice down and her tone steady. Proving that she wasn’t a threat or a liar would be imperative. At the same time, she’d also have to prove that she was smart enough to know what was going on. The going back and forth between beggar and queen was exhausting, to say the least. Her only hope was that he would believe her, fix the issues that she was having with the house and then leave her in peace. 

Matt knew what he was dealing with. They were all alike from what he’d observed: aggressive and demanding, to say the least. His voice would have to remain calm and free of judgement. He couldn’t act too much like a man, and he couldn’t treat her like a woman. He’d do his best not to sound condescending, although the whole situation was condescending. There’s no way all that she was saying about the house was true. Still, he’d have to make sure that she understood that this wasn’t about race. It was about getting a job done.

“I’ve got two heaters,” Matt muffled through a mask. He pulled the boxes from the back of his pickup. “A big one and a little one.” Crista didn’t respond. Instead, she picked up the small box and reached for the big one as well. He beat her to it. They both turned and walked to the front door. “You know, I think this is my first time seeing this property.” Crista looked at him over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. 

 “No, she said coldly through her own mask. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” The air outside was chilly and as stiff as their mannerisms. It’d been cold all month. People were wondering if Mississippi would finally see a White Christmas. Matt hoped that it would indeed. It would give him an excuse to stay shut in and unbothered with a bottle of whiskey.  

Crista stepped inside. All the sage she’d burned over the last year had worked, and the positive energy of the home greeted her. “Well,” she said gently. After staying weeks with a friend, she was glad to be home. With cheer in her voice, she welcomed the stranger. “Come on in!” The invitation made him forget that he was going in anyway. Matt expected to see whatever she was seeing. Something warm and cozy. 

But instead of warmth, a nasty, bitter cold hit him in the face. The temperature felt warmer outside than it did inside. “Sorry, about the mess.” Crista began to clean. Matt looked around at the living room that was a heck of a lot cleaner than that of other tenants he’d visited. The hardwood floors were clear and unstained. Stockings were hung on the non-functional chimney with care. In the dining room he could see a short, decorated Christmas tree with four rather large and unique looking elves sitting at its base. There were no holes in the walls, no food on the floor, and no roaches. There was however, a cat that kept running inside. She said it wasn’t hers, but he knew that she was lying about that. 

The cat didn’t concern him as much as the cold. Since the room was dark, he figured he’d get started and turn on a light. “Oh, that doesn’t work,” she said lightly, never looking in his direction.

He began to ask questions about the house. When did the lights stop working? How long did it take for the power to go out when the space heaters were plugged in? When did the heat stop? 

She moved effortlessly and energetically from one room to another, cleaning as she went, all while explaining in great detail the woes that had befallen her in the house, which was ultimately his house. She reminded him of his mother before she died. Bustling about making breakfast before he and his brothers went to school. 

Crista couldn’t tell if he believed her story or not. She had to keep moving and had to keep talking to try and hide her anxiety. She hoped she wasn’t rambling. She hoped that he would believe her and fix the house so that she and her children could all come home for the holidays. 

“Are there any other rooms without power?” he asked. 

“Yes. On my last night here, the lights went out in my bedroom. That’s what made me go ahead and leave.” She turned towards the back of the house. Matt hesitated before following her. Crista felt his reluctance. Why did he pause? Was he thinking about sex? Should she be thinking about sex? She was human after all and it had been an awful long time. Never mind. She didn’t want sex. She wanted someone to understand. She wanted to get the job done.

She put away all the bad scenarios that were running through her head and tried her best to encourage him. “Come on,” she said in a tone that would coach a frightened pup out of a storm drain. 

Matt followed. If the energy in the house was warm, then the atmosphere in her bedroom was tropical. Despite being cold, Matt felt at ease. He felt safe enough to let his guard down and be a man. Hearing a noise outside, he went over to the window to see what was going on. “I thought I heard something.”

“You did,” said Crista. “When the neighbor closes his car door, it echoes and makes you think it’s closer than it really is.” Moving away from the window, he walked from wall to wall taking in the artwork that looked like it’d been cut out of a textbook and taped to the wall. Van Gogh, Picasso, Kahlo and other artist whose names he didn’t know. 

Crista continued to talk cheerfully of the things he’d asked and let his mind wander over the gallery in her room. She wanted him to see, wanted him to know that she wasn’t a threat, but was an average person who wanted to live comfortably in her own house and her own skin. Like him. Like everyone else. 

“Do you stay here by yourself?” he asked a question she was sure she’d answered before. Still, she responded politely. 

“No, I have four children.”

“So, I really need to bring three more heaters, huh?”

“No, I have three of my own I was using before the power went out.” Crista went out of the bedroom and Matt followed her to what must have been a little girl’s room. There were posters of Barbie, My Little Pony and Monster High taped to the wall. White, black, blue, and yellow dolls much like the ones on the posters spilled out of a clear tub that served as a toy chest. Crista went to the space heater across the room and looked it over. Matt stood in the doorway and asked the question that had been on his mind for some time.

“With everything you have to do, and taking care of four children… how do you do it all on one income?” For the first time since their meeting, Crista looked Matt square in the eye. She expected to see judgement or sarcasm, but instead she saw curiosity. He wanted to know how she did it? Matt watched her brown eyes gloss over with tears before she looked away.

She chuckled, tears falling down her face. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, trying to regain control. Walking over to the child’s bed, she picked up a nightgown and patted her eyes with it.  She continued to answer his question with a trembling voice, “Actually, I had to stop work in August to be home with kids. Virtual learning, you know?” Matt nodded his head. “Up until this month, I’ve been living off my savings and child support. My money just kinda ran out this month.” 

Crista dried her eyes again. Her worries came swarming back. Bills due that she couldn’t pay. The kids were growing like vines and had outgrown all their clothes. She needed shoes, a coat. Christmas was in a few days and she couldn’t be home with her children because it was too cold in the house. 

Her head began to spin, and Matt watched in shock as she hit the floor with a thud.