Chapter Thirty Maren
Chapter Thirty
Maren
Four fires in ten days.
Countless texts with Ozzy.
A dozen or so rounds of poker at the base.
And I crocheted a cat toy from a kit for Bandit.
It’s been a solid start to the fire season.
On my final day, I make eleven drops before sunset and return to Missoula for five days off.
As much as I want to head straight to Ozzy’s, it’s late, so I drive home. When I walk in the door, KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Please Don’t Go” plays from Will’s Amazon Echo.
I chuckle while setting my bags by the stairs. Will pokes his head around the corner from the kitchen with a banana in his hand as a microphone while he sings the lyrics. Without interrupting his performance, I slide my arms around his neck. His free hand hooks my waist as we dance, and I fall into a fit of laughter until we nearly stumble to the floor, tripping over each other’s feet.
“Don’t gooo ...” Will belts the tune, dropping to his knees.
I pluck the banana from his hand, peel it, and take a bite.
“Maren.” He draws out my name while I turn down the volume. “If you leave, I’ll be all alone.”
I giggle, seeing a new side to Will since Jamie and Fitz moved out two weeks earlier. “Maybe you’ll commit to love. There’s a doctor who hasn’t had sex since you took her v-card. She’s waiting for you to bring her the glass shoe.”
Will stands and grabs my hand to take a bite of the banana. “That’s bullshit,” he mumbles. “You’re my backup. Don’t get too cozy with that mechanic.”
I relinquish the banana and pour a glass of wine. “I’m moving out just so I can get cozy with him without having to time things perfectly between your work schedule or climb in through his bedroom window.”
Will pauses the bottle at his mouth. “Mare, you climb in through his bedroom window? Like, up a ladder?”
“He’s in the basement.” I sip my wine.
Will smirks and shakes his head. “Well, you’d better come see me.”
“Why can’t you come to see me?”
“Because you have a fucking cat.”
I cringe. “You never mentioned it.”
“Well, if that cat’s still alive when we get married, you’re getting rid of it.”
I snort. “ If our lives hit that sad, pathetic point where I’m willing to marry someone who feels like a brother to me because no other man will marry me, then I’ll get rid of the cat.”
“That’s all I ask.” He manages to smirk and drink his beer simultaneously.
“Have you heard from Fitz and Jamie?”
Will shakes his head. “It’s like I no longer exist. See why I’m a little concerned?” He moseys to the sofa, plops down, and picks up his gaming controller.
“I think Fitz is in Idaho,” I say as I finish my wine and set the glass in the sink. “Jamie is probably busy nesting, but she’s loaning me Fitz’s truck to move my things.”
“If you wait until Saturday, I can help.”
“Jamie and I can do it. But thanks.”
“Maybe your boyfriend can borrow a bike trailer and pull some stuff for you.”
“Don’t be a dick, Will.”
He chuckles. “I’m kidding. Can’t you take a joke?”
“Yes.” I grab my bag and hike the strap onto my shoulder. “But I’m afraid you or Fitz will open your stupid mouth and joke to Ozzy’s face before you’ve developed enough of a relationship with him to do so. And then he’ll knock you on your ass, and I don’t want to play referee.”
“You can’t possibly think he’d knock me on my ass.”
“Well, he’s not a black belt in tai chi, but I think he’d make you bleed.”
“Now who’s being a dick? And for the record, if there were a belt system in tai chi, I’d be a black belt.”
I giggle the rest of the way up the stairs while a fight between Will and Ozzy, which will never happen, plays in my head. I honestly don’t know who would win that fight, but I love ruffling Will’s feathers.
The following day, I close on my house and send Ozzy a picture of my keys.
Maren: MINE!
Ozzy: Congratulations! Can’t wait to see you
When I pull into the driveway at what is now just Will’s house, Fitz’s black truck is backed into his old spot, and Jamie’s carrying my folded metal bed frame out the front door.
“Is Fitz in Idaho?” I hop out of my car and help her slide it into the truck bed.
“Yep. It’s just me,” she says. “Fitz wanted me to wait for him to get home tomorrow, but I know firsthand how freaking excited you are, so let’s do this. We are two very capable women.” She hugs me, and we jump up and down together, squealing.
“I’m a homeowner!”
She giggles. “Me too!”
“Okay, let’s get the rest.” I link my arm with hers and pull her toward the house. “If everything is moved now, I can go furniture shopping this afternoon.”
We load all my belongings into the back of Fitz’s pickup and my RAV. I also thought I’d need Will’s Bronco, but I overestimated my possessions. It’s kind of depressing that I’m in my thirties with so few belongings.
“Ready?” Jamie asks as I stand in the middle of my empty bedroom.
“Did you feel like this when you packed up your things? Did you feel like everything ugly and everything beautiful happened within the walls of this house?” Tears burn my eyes.
Jamie reaches for my hand, squeezing it. “Close your eyes.”
Tears break free when I do.
“See? Brandon’s still there. This house doesn’t hold memories. You hold them. No matter where you are, he’ll be with you as you make new ones.”
Sniffling, I nod.
Less than two hours later, I’m moved into my three-bedroom house with a weathered front porch and weed-infested yard. But who cares? I bought it for the tree house in the backyard.
“You have nothing,” Jamie says before laughing at my empty main floor.
“I have beautiful hardwood floors.” I narrow my eyes at the heavily scratched and moderately faded oak planks. “I have hardwood floors that can potentially be beautiful.”
Jamie laughs. “I think you should hold off buying furniture until you do some renovating. Like, maybe just get one thing. Maybe a sofa. Then you’ll have less to move and clean when it’s all done.”
“You’re probably right.” I wipe my hand along the worn laminate kitchen counter. “I guess that leaves more time for lunch.”
“My treat,” Jamie says. “And we can text the testosterone machines and let them know we did everything already.”
I nod slowly. It’s not a fancy house. I have a lot of work to do, but it’s mine. And it takes only a second to imagine it filled with a life.
A handsome mechanic.
A young, curly-haired girl.
And a cat.
After lunch, I fall in love with a cerulean blue velvet sofa on clearance. So we muscle it into the back of Fitz’s truck and head home.
“It’s perfect,” Jamie says when we plop onto it and stare at the brick hearth.
“I own a home,” I whisper at the tail end of a long sigh.
“And a tree house.”
I giggle. “Speaking of my cat’s house, I must get him.” I glance at my watch and text Ozzy.
Maren: Is it okay if I pick up my cat now?
“Is Ozzy the one?” Jamie asks.
I stare at my phone while waiting for Ozzy to reply. “In theory, yes.”
“In reality?”
I read Ozzy’s message.
Ozzy: Sure. I’ll call and have Lola watch for you so you don’t have to go inside.
“In reality, I feel like I have to make myself small to fit into his world. And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll kill you.” I toss my phone onto the cushion between us and adjust my ponytail.
“That’s sad, Maren.”
“I know.” I shrug a shoulder. “It feels like bad timing, but how many things in life happen at the perfect time, or what we perceive to be the perfect time? Do you think you met Fitz at the perfect time?”
“Yes.” She twists her lips. “No. I don’t know. I get what you’re saying. It’s a good time for you but not for Ozzy. But in a few years, if Lola gets better and the timing is right for Ozzy, you could be with someone else.”
“Exactly.” I wrinkle my nose. “And I feel like I need to be all in or get out. I need to completely walk away because I don’t want to be another source of pain or loss in Lola’s life by thinking I can hold out until she’s better and their lives are somewhat normal again, only to have that never happen.”
“So play this game with me,” Jamie says. “Let’s say she never gets into a car again, and therefore, neither does Ozzy. Missoula is the boundary of their world forever. Can you be part of that small world?”
I rub my hands over my face and mumble, “I don’t know. Does that make me an awful person?”
“Of course not.”
“But if I love him—”
“Do you? Do you truly love him?” Jamie asks.
“Yes.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
I grin because I always feel joy and uncontrolled giddiness when I think of Ozzy and Lola. “You know what I don’t know?”
“What’s that?”
I hesitate for a few seconds. “Had I met Ozzy, a single guy with no child, never been married, I know I would have been attracted to him. But I’ve been attracted to other guys. Good guys. You know? To me, Ozzy isn’t just a sexy mechanic at Cielo. He’s Lola’s father. And a widower. And he’s grounded, but not just in the literal sense. Is it weird that I feel like I’m attracted to the man he is because of the tragedy he’s faced? Because he’s a dad?”
“No. Tragedies change people. Think about it. Lola will never look at another person with scars the way she might have had she not gone through this experience in her life. People need silver linings. I bet you love Ozzy because these tragedies have made him a better man. And it sucks that his wife died, but I bet he is a different, perhaps better, person for having survived it.”
I let her words settle for a few seconds before glancing at my watch again. “I have to get Bandit. Want to come with me?”
“To guard you from the grandma?”
I laugh and hold up my phone so she can see Ozzy’s message about me not going inside.
“Yikes.”
I stand. “Yikes indeed. I wish I could get her to like me.”
“I’m sure it’s not personal. You have to know that, right?”
“I know.” I grab my purse from the bottom step.
“I’ll stay here and clean a few things.” Miss Clean Queen grins.
I open the front door. “Clean away. Wish me luck.”