Chapter 12 #2
Addie howled with laughter and I reached over and pulled her hat down over her eyes.
“Shut up!” I said.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Lior!” She laughed some more, pushing her hat up and then grabbing onto her injured ribs and swearing, but still laughing.
“You deserve any pain you cause yourself,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Holy shit,” she said and then laughed at her accidental pun. “How have you not told me this before now?”
“It’s a giant turd of a story?” I offered and took great joy when she groaned, her body shaking with more laughter. “Sorry,” I said. “Stop laughing before you hurt yourself worse.”
“Seriously, Lior. Why did you keep this from me? It’s just cruel.”
“Because I didn’t know you still read his column and… it was terrible. And embarrassing. And I didn’t know it was him!”
“How? You’ve seen him in person before.”
“He doesn’t look the same. He’s all undercover journalist Clark Kent with some seriously sexy scruff and glasses. And his hair is longer. Plus he was in sweats, not fancy author clothes like in his pictures or when we went to his book signings.”
“Oh my god.” She grinned gleefully.
“Stop saying that and smiling like that, jerk.”
“Have you seen him since?”
“Ugh. Yes. I ran into him at Jessa’s launch party where he was a total asshat. And then again at a birthday party where we ended up sharing a cab afterwards which was… kind of nice.”
“Shut. Up.”
“I didn’t know his dog is dying.” I covered my face with my hands again.
“Bronte is dying?” Her eyes filled with empathy.
“Yeah. And he didn’t realize she’d been… using the bathroom while walking.”
Addie nodded. “That can happen. Poor thing. Both of them. I wish I were there to help.”
I smiled. She had always been so good with animals and people alike.
Ever since we were little and she’d convinced her parents to allow what seemed like a constant parade of animals and creatures into their house.
Cats, dogs, rabbits, an iguana, fish, turtles, gerbils, garter snakes…
It’s why her clinic had flourished since she’d opened it four years ago.
Creatures flocked to her. I often joked she was like a Disney princess.
All she had to do was open a window and give a little whistle and they all came clamoring.
“Anyways,” she said. “Let’s get back to the fact that he wrote an article about you.”
“Can we not?” I asked. “It’s humiliating. I saw it when I was sitting in the airport on my way back home from seeing you after the accident and spilled my matcha all over the floor.”
Addie snickered. “Meet-poop,” she whispered. “So clever.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ll bet he’s even cuter all scruffy.”
I pictured him once more, my stomach giving a little happy cartwheel at the image.
“Shut up,” I said again, this time more to myself than to my friend, and then turned over onto my stomach and closed my eyes.
“I’ll be back next month,” I said, rolling my suitcase to the front door and parking it there to give my friend a hug.
“You’re making me feel like a charity case,” Addie said.
“We’ll beach by day and order in food by night.”
“Fine. Woo me. See if I care.”
“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
“I will absolutely wait until you get back.”
“And be nice to Dr. Doolittle,” I said. “I think you should give him a chance. Let him settle those ruffled feathers of yours with those big strong hands.”
I’d looked up her ‘nemesis’ and was shocked at how good looking the guy was. She hadn’t been joking.
She opened the door. “And now it is time for you to go,” she said.
“Seriously, Addie-roo.” I grabbed my suitcase and rolled it out onto the front porch. “I’ll bet he could make you purr.”
The door slammed shut and I laughed all the way to my rental car.
Many hours later a cab delivered me to the sidewalk outside my house. I waited patiently for the driver to unload my bags from the trunk and then I carried them up the front steps, sleepy from the flight and happy to be home, despite being sad to have left Seattle and my friend.
I unlocked the front door and glanced over at the corner of my stoop, as had become habit, to the marred shoe I’d left there in disgust weeks ago. Except it looked as if someone had moved it. And there was something inside.
Hauling my bags into the house, I turned on the foyer light and stepped back outside, crouching to get a better look at the shoe and what looked like a tiny scroll inside, tied with a blue ribbon.
“What the hell?” I murmured, grabbing the rolled paper and pulling off the ribbon.
With a bemused look, I unrolled the thick piece of parchment paper and read the poem written inside.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I have cleaned the poo
From your favorite shoe
~Graham Forrester
I laughed and picked up the shoe, turning it over to find that was in fact now clean. And then my heart gave a little thump of delight knowing he’d been here and had touched my sneaker.
“Worst Cinderella retelling ever,” I said and chuckled.
Going inside, I set my now clean shoe next to its mate, then padded into the kitchen to make a cup of cocoa before bed. I was reaching for a mug when I realized I was still holding the poem, clasping it to my heart like a lovelorn character from a Regency era novel.
“Well shit,” I said, and then tossed it to the countertop as if it had suddenly caught fire.