The Eyes and Ears of Love (8 page)

“Against the rules, sorry. What do you need to do in this wing after hours, anyways?”

“I just wanted to do some practice in the kitchen for one of my culinary classes.”

“Oh, well, that’s completely off limits. Every day the daytime janitors do a deep cleaning on all the appliances in the kitchen before going home. It takes hours!”

“I understand. I did all the cleaning back at home, too, so I know the work that goes into scrubbing down an oven.” She pauses. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, or put you in a difficult position, but…what if I was to use the kitchen for two hours every night as long as I clean my work station and by gone at ten on the dot?”

“Well…” he says shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“And I’ll leave you a big plate of whatever I made for the night.”

“Janitor Murphy, nice to meet you!” He extends his hand for a shake, laughing. He smiles and his droopy eyes crinkle at the corners.

***

Bentley waits until eight forty-five in the evening to go to the university, skipping a shower and neglecting to brush his teeth. In his mind, it didn’t matter, since he was just going to mop some floors and do whatever else a janitor did. Besides, he hadn’t paid much attention to his appearance after Emily’s death anyways.

At nine o’clock Bentley knocks on the janitor’s closet, eager to get this over with. An older man who looks to be in his seventies answers.

“You must be Bentley?” he asks with a low and raspy voice. “I’m Murphy. Come on in.” He hands Bentley a green janitor jumpsuit along with a mop and bucket. “You can just put the jumpsuit directly over your clothes. You’re in charge of your own uniform for the next sixty days so try washing it weekly because you only get one. I’m the only night janitor and my main duties are mopping, taking out the trash, and vacuuming the classrooms. I am here until five in the morning and Director Baldwin has advised me that I can keep you for my entire shift! But I won’t do that, the longest I’ll keep you is eleven.”

Bentley cracks his knuckles. 

“Well,” Murphy continues, “you’ll work in the west wing—the culinary wing, for the entirety you’re here, just mopping the hallways and the culinary kitchen.”

Bentley’s eyes widen with disbelief. The culinary classroom is enormous, it has auditorium seating and ten different kitchens made into one giant kitchen; it will take forever to mop.

“Now if you need a smoke break, you just let me know, we all need a smoke break now and then.”

“I don’t smoke,” Bentley says bluntly.

Bentley puts the jumpsuit over his clothing and heads over to the West Wing with the mop and bucket in hand. He’s thankful that this punishment is at night and not during the day. It would be torture for people to see him trade in his jersey for a mop.

He decides to start with the kitchen first since it’ll be the most time consuming. He begins to open the kitchen door when he sees a woman through the submarine style window and he stops. His eyes widen momentarily in surprise.

She’s in the kitchen all by herself, smiling from ear to ear. If he had seen her before on campus, surely he’d remember.

This girl certainly knows her way around the kitchen. She listens to music as she bakes which only provokes dancing, mostly the shaking of her hips. She smiles the entire time as he quietly watches her. The kitchen is an obvious safe haven for her.  

He looks at her. He feels something; a jolt of liveliness inside, like his body has been resuscitated to feel something again, something other than numbness. It is an unexpected feeling.

She’s stunning. With her head held high, a confidence lingers in the way she carries herself; she seems to be in her own world, a world that Bentley wants to be a part of. He watches her push drawers shut with her knees and feet.

Her hair is thick and blonde, her eyes are large and emerald. There are many attractive women at the university, but he feels especially drawn to this one. Her face is without a flaw, soft and smooth. But it’s those big eyes that lure Bentley. They’re convincing and tempting. The color, itself, appears unreal, like only colored contacts could perceive.

“Bentley!” a raspy voice shouts from across the hallway.

It startles him and he drops the mop from his jittery hand.

It’s Murphy. “I forgot to tell you, we won’t mop the kitchen until that young lady is finished in there.”

“Why?” Bentley asks, relieved that Murphy didn’t notice him staring at the girl.

“She asked me if she can use the kitchen after hours to practice for her culinary classes. I agreed at the price that she cleans up after herself and leaves an old man a few treats!” He chuckles. “So we’ll just leave her be and she’ll be gone by ten. Until then you can mop all the wing’s hallways and once you’re done with the kitchen you are relieved from your janitorial duties and I’ll sign tonight’s service hours.”

Bentley nods and begins mopping thousands of square feet of tile flooring while Janitor Murphy mops the other campus wings. He pays close attention to the hallway clock and at ten o’clock on the dot, he races to the kitchen to find an empty, but spotless, kitchen. A plate of brownies lay atop of the island counter with a handwritten note.

“I made you my first batch of a dozen delectable turtle mint brownies! I hope you like them…

Thanks Murphy!”

Bentley feels rude taking something that isn’t his, but the aroma is too amazing to resist. He breaks a corner off one of the brownies and quickly puts it in his mouth. It’s gooey and rich; so many different flavors for a single bite to have. He sighs from the deliciousness.

He mops the kitchen, savoring the aftertaste of chocolate and mint while replaying the image of this woman in his head. No woman has ever affected him in the way this woman has, and Bentley tries to comprehend why. He has met plenty of beautiful, passionate girls before, but this woman is different. It may be her honesty; she is not trying to be something she isn’t. He is just lucky enough to first see her in her favorite place, where she wasn’t trying to impress or even acknowledge others.

Emily had always had that same quality. She didn’t need to be anyone else but herself when she was with Bentley. In Bentley’s experience, it is rare to discern a person’s true authenticity—more people he knew were too clouded by this notion of who they were supposed to be to let their real selves show.

Once he’s finished mopping, he takes the plate of brownies over to the janitor’s closet where he crosses paths with Janitor Murphy. He hands over the plate of brownies.

“Have one with me?” Murphy asks.

Bentley shyly grabs a brownie from the plate.

“Grab a chair.”

He does as he is told.

“How did the mopping go?”

“Not bad,” Bentley mutters with his mouth full.

“I bet the next fifty-nine days will go by fast. Then you can get on with your life, hopefully making good choices.”

Bentley stands up; he feels fire in his chest. “Look, I am here to do a job. That’s it,” he grabs his bag. “I don’t need a mentor, especially one who’s a janitor.” He leaves.

From that night on, Bentley develops a ritual of watching this girl for several minutes and then mopping all his designated hallways before rushing back to the kitchen at ten o’clock. At ten, the kitchen is always empty and clean, with a plate of goodies on the island counter. He has thought about going back to the kitchen five to ten minutes early, but the possibility of rejection makes him uneasy.

Therefore, he keeps his ritual and is very discreet about it. Bentley worries that she might misinterpret his voyeurism as perverted, but it couldn’t be more opposite.  He watches her because of the way she makes him feel. Her glow makes him twinkle; her positivity clones onto him. Her attitude is addicting even for the few minutes he watches her each night. He can’t help but to mop the hallways with a giant grin plastered on his face because her smile is so contagious.

After several weeks, Bentley warms up to Murphy by staying after his service hours log is signed to eat good treats and enjoy a nice chat. He quickly learns Murphy is not just a janitor, but he is a wise man with many wise stories. One story is going to stick with Bentley for the rest of his life.

Janitor Murphy spoke of a small South Carolina town, the year of 1948. Murphy was seven years old. He and his pa were the topic for circulating rumors among the town. His mother was a schizophrenic and she was placed in a mental health facility after a failed suicide attempt.

Murphy was taken to see his mother at the facility once a month because that was the maximum visitation for a minor. He remembered looking upon the open recreational yard as the sun exposed its shine onto the whole facility. Murphy would stare at the garden with the salmon roses, watching the residents as they help each other plant a myriad of flowers, including Murphy’s favorite: yellow and white Chrysanthemums. The breeze carried the smell of freshly cut grass. Despite all the beautiful qualities of the facility, it was still overshadowed by the high barbed wire fence. He always noticed how beautiful the landscaping was on the inside of the fence, but how lifeless and dismal it was beyond with only dirt and sand seen miles out. There were no trees, flowers, mountains, nothing.

He planned an escape for his mother by drawing maps of a hole she could dig underneath the facility fence. After waiting a month until their next visit, he asked her why she didn’t break out of the facility.

She responded, “My precious son, your place is on the outside of the fence. My place is on the inside. I am not like the people on the outside. We are different and I have needs that cannot possibly be understood. I could have the most devoted husband in the world, which I do; the most handsome son in the world, which I do; but if I can’t be true to myself, than I am nothing. The people here, let me be myself without any judgement. I hope you never have to feel the torture of not feeling like you belong in this world.” 

Bentley wonders if Emily ever felt that way because of her hearing disability. He suddenly regrets not asking her.

Bentley relates to Murphy’s story; he knows he struggles to be himself. He wants to be true to himself again, but it takes time for him to remember who he once was before Emily got sick. He knows he can never go back to his exact self because Emily’s death changed him permanently. The story of Murphy’s mom follows him and he uses it as incentive to remember things he would do and say before Emily got sick. Now, he kisses his mom before he leaves like he used to. He attends church for the Sunday morning service. He talks to his dad about sports again.

***

Over her first few weeks of school, Dorothy immerses herself in cooking. She’s excelling in culinary classes and enjoying her other classes, at most. Practicing in the kitchen afterhours is her favorite time, it makes her feel as alive as it did back in Otis’s community center’s kitchen. The kitchen is the one place she belongs: the one place where every tragedy and bad memory fades. She’s also spending time with Donna here and there and she’s growing to be good friends with Janessa. They have a Friday tradition of having lunch at Drill’s Grill where they request their favorite server, Jimmy, because he calls them the
Fraternal Twins
because to him they couldn’t be more different, but yet so alike. It always makes them laugh hysterically to hear him say it. Eventually the rest of the staff and customers caught on to this gimmick.

Dorothy shows up to class twenty five minutes early the following morning. Taking a seat, she sips her coffee, slowly savoring the warmth sliding down her throat. She gazes at Professor Bloomington’s desk in the empty classroom. She slowly walks down the center aisle and gawks at the pictures displayed on his desk of him and his family.

She hears the door swing open and looks up. Dorothy raises her eyebrows. “Donna?”

“Dorothy! Just the person I was looking for,” she finally says, walking down to Dorothy.

“How did you know I was here?”

She stands in front of the desk. “I figured you were such a teacher's pet that you would be in class over thirty minutes early,” she laughs.

Dorothy picks up a picture frame and stares at an image taken in a hospital after Mr. Bloomington’s baby was born. His wife is holding the swaddled baby, grinning at the camera, while he stares at her, like a man who is deeply in love would stare. 

“Look at how happy they are, Donna.” She smiles, showing her the picture.

Donna glances at the picture briefly and shrugs. “It’s just a picture, anyone can fake a smile for a picture.”

Dorothy scrunches her forehead and jerks her head back. “Who bit you and made you bitter?” 

“There is a party this Friday night at the Calhan Delta Fraternity house,” she changes the subject, abruptly. “I want you to tell me you’re coming.”

“So you came all the way to my class to ask me to come to a party that isn't for five days?” 

“Yeah! Well I didn't want you to make other plans. I can’t believe you still haven’t been to a party and you’re already five weeks into college.”

“Um, I guess I can go,” Dorothy says, figuring she can come up with a reasonable excuse over the next five days