Chapter 17
Price
Another day,another journal entry. I’ve been in Austin for almost two months.
Two months of watching Scottie fall in love with Koen.
Two months of befriending the man well on his way to having the life I gave up twelve years ago.
Two months of seeing that look of distrust in his eyes. When will he give me a break and settle into our bromance?
My pen taps on the paper. Is today a sketch or words?
Words. I have a lot of feelings today. But where do I begin?
How did I become an expert on women? How can I make them fall in love with me and disappoint them beyond words? I loved her as much as a man could love a woman, but even that most coveted emotion has limits. Being someone’s “everything” holds a power that’s too great for any human being. She wanted me to be her “’til-death-do-us-part” person, and so did I.
But nobody thinks that through.
For richer or poorer. Define poorer.
In sickness and in health. Define sickness.
In good times and in bad. How bad is bad?
Love isn’t everything; context is.
Is the ultimate sacrifice the only kind? Or are there degrees to which one person sacrifices themselves for another? She may never know that I saved her from the worst kind of grief.
I hope I did.
And in the process, I’ve made some valuable progress in my life.
Today, I can touch my toes. When I started this journey, I could barely reach past mid-shin.
Today, I made it twenty minutes with my meditation. I think I get it. For twenty minutes, I rest and exist in the moment. All thoughts and physical sensations drift in and out of my moment. I don’t grab them, nor do I chase them away. I control nothing.
It’s enlightening to realize that controlling nothing is the most empowering feeling in the world.
The sun is out after a spell of rain, and it’s seventy degrees in March.
What are my thoughts on earthing? Do it.
I’ve had some funny looks from the neighbors, but I don’t care. For thirty minutes, I walk barefoot in the yard, feeling like a new person, or at least a renewed person.
“Do you know how often my dog has peed in your yard?” a man in a tweed flat cap, probably in his mid-sixties, says while strolling past my front yard with his white Shih Tzu’s nose to the ground.
I smile, hands in my pockets, gaze affixed to the grass. “Probably not as many times as I’ve pissed in yours.” Glancing up at him, I wink.
He barks a laugh. “Good response. I’m Ed. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
“I’m Price. It’s nice to be here.”
“Enjoy it. I’m gonna be out before too long.”
“Where are you going?”
He stops and shrugs while his dog sniffs around the mailbox. “No clue. My wife died last year. She took care of our finances. I don’t know how she made ends meet, but I can’t.” He continues down the sidewalk.
“I’ll be done walking in your dog’s piss in fifteen minutes. Bring me your bills and banking information.”
He chuckles. “Why?”
“I’ll show you how your wife did it. I might even help you do it better.”
“I’m good. But thanks.” He continues onward.
An hour later …
Ed knocks on my door, holding a cardboard box. “Janice had a better filing system.”
I grin, taking the box from him. “I do not doubt that.”
Later that evening,I meet Scottie at the salt room.
“You’re late, Milloy,” she whispers from her zero gravity chair when I sit beside her.
“Community service took longer than expected,” I say, leaning back.
When I roll my head toward her, she grins without opening her eyes. The salt is good for me; Scottie is better.
Forty-five minutes later, we exit the building together.
“Tell me about your community service.” She retrieves her keys from her bag.
“Can’t. It’s confidential.”
“Pfft.” She heads toward her red truck. “Liar.”
“When’s Koen coming home?”
“Sunday.” She opens the door and turns. “Why? Do you need me to spot you at the gym?”
“Just making conversation.”
She nods slowly, eyeing me with that look of equal parts concern and distrust.
“I think we should go to a comedy club tomorrow night. I found one that starts at 8:30, so we could make it after the store closes.”
She frowns.
“If you need permission, ask Koen. Tell him I promise to stop at second base.”
“You’ve never stopped at second base.” She blows her bangs away from her face. “And I love him, so there’s that little hiccup in your plan.”
Of course, she does. It’s been eight weeks. She loved me in less than two. Scottie’s heart doesn’t know how to do anything but love.
It’s why I’m here.
“I love him, too. He’s not failed me once. Last week, I tried lifting more than I should have, but he swooped in and saved me. It made my skin tingle when his biceps bulged, and he made it look so easy.” I pull my T-shirt away from my chest to fan myself.
Fighting her grin, she shakes her head and glances over my shoulder. “Pick me up at 8:10.”
I feel joy down to my fucking soul. “Goodnight, Scottie Rucker.”