Chapter 8 Larissa
LARISSA
Mike wasn’t picking up.
I’d gone to lunch with him yesterday, and everything was fine. I did food deliveries until six, babysat until ten, he texted me good night. Now nothing. Maybe he slept through his alarm?
I called again to leave a message just as Chris drove into the parking lot. “It’s me. Where are you? I’m getting worried, so call me back.”
I hung up and walked over to meet Chris as he got out of the car. Woofarine started straining against the leash the second he saw him.
“Hey, where’s Mike?” Chris said, closing his door and crouching to pet the dog.
“I don’t know. He’s not answering his phone,” I said, looking around the park. “Where’s Jesse?”
“He canceled.”
I turned back to him. “He did? Why?”
“Flat tire. He texted the group chat saying he couldn’t come. You’re taking Woofarine home after, right?” Chris said, kissing our dog’s head. “I have work tomorrow.”
“Yeah. Drop him off on Sunday?”
“If you can. I can come pick him up too,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll text you.”
Chris stood and looked around the parking lot, then glanced at his watch. “Should we sit while we wait?”
“Sure.”
We made our way to the picnic table facing the tennis court. “So what’s this walk?” Chris asked.
“Mike went running in the park reserve last week and said it was really pretty. Lots of pear trees or something?”
“Oh yeah. They’re blooming this time of year. You’ve never been here?” he asked.
I shook my head.
I’d looked it up online. A ski chalet and swimming pond and miles of bike trails. “The website said it’s almost five thousand acres. They have a dog park too.”
“Oh, cool. We should take Woofarine.”
“We should take Woofarine. Woofie needs a lot more exercise so he’s too tired to kill things,” I said, giving our dog a fake stern look.
“Did I tell you he parkoured his way into the pantry a few days ago?”
I sucked in air. “No…”
“Yeah. He climbed the wire racks until he got to the cheese puffs. I found him inside the bag. He was orange.”
I burst out laughing. “Why didn’t you send me a picture?”
“I didn’t have time to take one because I had to put him straight into the sink. That stuff’s harder to get off than you think,” he said.
I was dying. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny.”
He was trying not to smile. “It is kind of funny.”
“Why do you think he’s like this?”
“I don’t know. Yorkies are ratting dogs. It’s probably bred into him.”
“Maybe he had to hunt for his own food,” I said, looking at the dog. “That’s sort of sad.”
“Well, at least he’s good at it. He didn’t starve.”
We sat on the top of the table with our feet on the bench. I plopped my backpack next to me and peered over at him. He had on a T-shirt, exercise shorts, running shoes, sunglasses—and a fanny pack. I made an amused noise.
“What?” he said, looking at me.
“Nothing. It’s just you have a fanny pack.”
“This is a satchel,” he said with mock seriousness.
“Riiiiight. A satchel.” I leaned back on my hands.
“You have an objection to practical walking gear?”
“It’s a little nerdy. And what about your water bottle? You’re going to carry it? In your hand?”
He lifted his shirt to show me a water bottle holster around his waist on the opposite side. He accidently flashed me a small glimpse of his stomach. A trail of hair and a well-etched V muscle. He pulled his shirt back down. “Is this cool enough for you or should I go back and get my beer hat?”
I laughed, my heart beating a little fast for some reason.
Mike wouldn’t have been caught dead in a fanny pack. His whole outfit for this hike would be carefully picked out. All brand names, a tank top to show off his arms.
Chris was a lot less image conscious. He was the kind of guy who’d wear a goofy Halloween costume to work. It wasn’t a shortcoming of Mike’s that he wasn’t like that. More like it was noteworthy that Chris was.
I liked the fanny pack.
My phone rang and I wrestled it out of my bag. It was Mike. I swiped to answer. “Hey, where are you?”
“Babe, I am so sorry I’m not gonna make it. I’ve got another headache.”
My face fell. “Oh no. Do you want me to bring you something?”
“No, no. You guys walk. Go without me.”
I shook my head. “I don’t feel right going if you’re sick—”
“You guys are already down there.”
“Mike…”
“Babe, go. I’ll be fine. Seriously.” He didn’t sound fine. He sounded out of it. He was talking slow.
“It’s another migraine?” I asked.
“Yeah. I get ’em sometimes. You guys walk, okay? Don’t leave my boy hanging.”
I let out a sigh. “Well, we don’t know where we’re going.”
“It’s easy,” he said. “Take the paved path off the playground, go right. It’s a loop. Took me an hour and a half. It’s nice,” he said, his voice a little raspy. “You’ll have a good time.”
Chris was watching me.
“Okay,” I said. “You really don’t want me to come?”
“Definitely not.”
“All right. I’ll text you when we’re done. I’ll come over after.”
“No, don’t. I need to take it easy. I’ll probably just sleep today and see you tomorrow.”
“Saturday? Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay…” I said a little hesitantly.
“Call me later.”
We hung up.
“He’s got another migraine,” I said, looking at Chris. “It’s just us. Do you still want to go? Or we can just go home.”
He seemed to think about it a second. “Let’s go if you’re up for it. It’s a nice day. We’re already here, and Woofarine wants to walk,” he said, talking to the dog, who tilted his head at the W-word.
I didn’t really feel right going. Part of me wanted to check on Mike even though he told me not to.
Honestly, if Jesse had come so Chris wouldn’t have to walk alone, I probably would have left.
But I did want to see the park. I spent so much time working, I barely got time to be in nature, and this was my only day off where I wasn’t planning on side hustling.
I’d actually passed on babysitting for this and if I left now, I’d have lost the income for nothing. Plus, I’d driven all the way over here.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s walk.”
We slid off the table and made our way to the paved trail that led into the park reserve.
It was spring. Everything was bright green and blooming. Butterflies and bees buzzed around and the air smelled like earth and grass. We went right when the trail forked and were walking under some trees, Woofarine pulling on the leash like he was charging into battle.
“I wonder how far we’d have to go for him to actually get tired,” I said.
“How long is this walk?” Chris asked.
“I don’t know. Mike said it’s an hour and a half loop.”
He looked at his smartwatch. “I’m gonna track it. See how many miles it is.” He nodded at Woofarine, straining against his harness. “Want me to take him?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“If he were bigger, he’d be dragging you.”
“If he were bigger, he’d be hunting bears.”
Chris laughed.
“Poor Woofie. He probably never got to go for walks,” I said. “He has a much better life now.” I glanced at Chris. “Have you thought more about keeping him?”
“I was going to talk to you about that. How do you think things are going? Are you still good with everything or…”
“Yeah,” I said. “I like helping. I’ll keep taking him if you keep him.”
“Okay.” He looked at me. “Then I’ll keep him.”
I grinned. “Really?”
“Yeah. He’s a good boy. I do have one request though,” he said.
“What?”
“You gave him a bath the other day.”
“Yessss, I sent you a picture.”
“You didn’t spike his hair into a Mohawk. That’s mandatory dog bath stuff. I don’t make the rules.”
I let out an amused sound. “Okay, well, I have it under the highest authority that you went to get coffee with him last week and you didn’t get him a puppuccino. That’s illegal and you should be in jail.”
He looked surprised. “Who told you that?”
I’d seen him. I was delivering a drink order, one of my many jobs.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Just know that I see and hear everything, and going forward I will consider that a violation of our custody order.”
“I didn’t know about the puppuccino thing and nobody offered me one.”
“Poor Woofie, still living in neglect. Promise to do better.”
He chuckled.
My phone made an oink sound and I pulled it out. “Sorry, it’s one of my pet-sitting clients. I have to reply.”
“You pet-sit?”
“Yeah. It’s a pig.”
“A pig?”
“An emotional-support pig,” I said, reading the message. “His owner’s out of town. He has an automatic feeder and water bowl. My whole job is to open the hot tub and sit there while he swims for an hour.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am very serious. Look.” I scrolled up the thread to show him the picture I’d sent the owner yesterday. It was a pink hundred-and-fifty-pound pig in a Jacuzzi.
He was shaking his head. “Where do you find these jobs?”
“Online city groups,” I said, putting my phone away.
“What else have you done?” he asked.
“Lots of stuff. I’m a mystery shopper.”
“Really? What does that pay?”
“It depends. Once I took a job where I had to walk into a candle store and report back if they greeted me. That was it. Ten dollars. Sometimes you get free food if it’s a food place.
You have to pay for the food up front and they reimburse you, which I don’t like, but I do get the money back.
Sometimes all they want is pictures of things. ”
“Of what?” He swatted away a bee.
“Whatever they’re selling. Like they want you to go into a makeup store to photograph the perfumes or something.”
“Why would they want that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe to see if their product is being merchandised correctly? I’m also doing the snackle boxes again now that the ice is off the lakes.”
“And those are?”
“Tackle boxes with snacks in them. Cheese, candy, pickles, meat. They’re popular for fishing season. It’s a thing I’ve been doing for a few years. Want to see a picture?”
“Yes.”
I pulled up the social media page I used for my little business and showed him.
He stopped walking to look at it. “Wow. That’s cool.” He swiped up to the top of the page. “You have four thousand followers,” he said, sounding impressed.
“Yeah. I had a timelapse video go viral. See? It’s the pinned one.”
I studied him while he watched it.
“You could do this full-time,” he said, handing me back my phone.
“No, not really. It’s seasonal,” I said, putting my cell back in my pocket. “Also, it’s boring. I’m just putting snacks in compartments. It’s not exactly something you want to do for forty hours a week.”
He nodded. “I get that. So I’m guessing the thing with your dad never came off your credit, then?”
“No. I think I’m going to end up paying it—at least the part of it I can’t get the collections agencies to waive.”
We walked in silence a moment.
“Why not serve at a better restaurant?” he asked. “I mean, I love Donna’s, but you could probably rake it in somewhere more upscale.”
I blew a breath out through my nose.
I hated my job. But I couldn’t bring myself to quit, because if I did, I’d just be doing it to go do the same thing somewhere else. I wanted to leave to leave.
It wasn’t that I hated Donna’s exactly, I just didn’t want to wait on tables anymore.
I’d been doing it since I was sixteen. I didn’t want to learn a new menu, didn’t want to do any of it.
I was so burned out. My body was tired, my feet hurt all the time, I was sick of dealing with rude customers and waking up early or coming home late and smelling like french fries.
“I don’t want to be a waitress my whole life.”
“Okay. What do you want to be?”
I looked over at him. “I don’t know. I’m waiting for something to speak to me. I think I’ll know it when I see it.”
Woofarine sniffed the grass on the side of the trail and started to circle, and Chris pulled out a poop bag from his satchel.
“Why did you decide to be a pharmacist?” I asked.
“I was almost a doctor.” He leaned over to pick up the poop. “I didn’t want to be bedside with patients. I want to help people, but I like the science side of it more.”
“Hmmmmm. That’s very nerdy, Christopher. Do you mind if I call you Christopher?”
“Uh, I actually do mind,” he said. “That’s what my mom called me when she was mad at me.”
“Does it trigger your flight response?”
He knotted the bag. “It makes me want to immediately clean my room.”
“Ha. At least it’s not McNougat,” I said.
“You have me there.”
I laughed and the corners of his eyes creased.
We stopped at a Porta Potty after about an hour of walking. There was a spigot next to it and we topped off our water bottles and Chris threw the poop away in the trash can. He looked at his watch. “Two and a half miles.”
I crouched to give Woofarine something to drink out of the little folding bowl I carried for him. He sniffed the water and turned away.
“Want me to take him?” he asked, nodding at the leash.
“Sure.” I scanned both ways down the bike trail and didn’t see anyone on the path. For it being a Friday, there was hardly anyone out here. It was weird to say, but I was kind of glad Mike and Jesse hadn’t come.
There was something calming about Chris. It took so little energy to hang out with him. We didn’t have to force conversation, we could talk about books or Woofarine or we could walk in total silence and I didn’t feel like I had to fill it—or he did.
Mike didn’t like silence. He was always joking or telling an animated story. I liked his stories, but sometimes it was nice to just be quiet.
“So what soup are you making next?” he asked, putting his water bottle away.
“Why? Any special requests?”
“I could be convinced to buy chicken and dumplings. It was one of the rare things my mom used to make. I haven’t had it in a while.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
He smiled and put on hand sanitizer and offered me some. I rubbed it into my palms and looked around. The landscape had shifted from open prairies with green grass and wildflowers to woods and tall trees that bent over the trail. It was beautiful and tranquil.
“I almost passed on this to babysit today,” I said, watching the breeze roll through the canopy.
“Are you glad you didn’t?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. I am.”