Chapter 16 Chris
CHRIS
I texted her from outside the apartment, and ten seconds later she opened the door. The moment she laid eyes on me, it was all over her face.
“You promised you would not laugh,” I said, feigning seriousness.
“I know. I did promise.” She bit her lips together. “It’s just—”
“What.”
She sucked air through her teeth. “It’s just so much bigger than you described.”
“Ha.”
Nancy came up behind her, holding Woofarine. “Oh, hon… Thank goodness you’re cute enough to pull it off.” She shook her head and handed me the dog and wandered back into the apartment, chuckling.
Larissa leaned in to study me. “Explain to me one more time how this happened?”
“I was doing a vaccine clinic,” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“The store hired a face painter for the kids to try and make it fun.”
“Okay.”
“One of the kids asked if she could paint my face.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “And this kid was how old?”
“Five maybe?”
“All right.”
“I said yes.”
“Clearly.”
“She used a Sharpie.”
Larissa covered her mouth with her hand and choked on her laugh.
I was also trying not to laugh.
“How did you not feel this?” she asked, shaking her head.
“I thought it was one of the face-paint markers.”
“Where were the parents?”
“Not close enough to save me?” I said.
“You know what they look like…” she asked, squinting to study my face closer.
“I know what they look like.”
“Was she trying to draw balloons?” She started breaking up on the last word. “It looks like you fell asleep at a frat party—”
“Okay, find your own ride, I’m out of here.” I turned for the car, pretending to leave.
“Chris, wait! I’ll be good!” She was laughing. “Come back!”
I turned and shot her a mock look of indignation. She was standing in the doorway, doubled over, her blue eyes sparkling. It almost made my face art worth it. Almost.
I took her in while I was pretending to be mad. She was wearing a short-sleeve top, knotted at the waist, shorts. Her long wavy hair was down and partly pulled back in a clip. Barefoot. Again.
She looked beautiful. As always.
I came over to where she stood, still cracking up in the door. She straightened and bit her lip, trying to get ahold of herself.
“Are you done?” I said, trying to look serious and failing.
“Yes. Totally. Probably.”
I shifted Woofarine to the other side. “I’m already dealing with enough abuse from you.”
She gasped. “I do not abuse you,” she said defensively.
“Well, you’re not nice to me.”
“I am so nice to you,” she said, beaming.
“I’m too fragile to have you tease me about this for the next five hours.”
“Do you want me to put some makeup on it?” she asked. “I could at least color in the balloons so they don’t look like little sperms headed for your eye.”
I wanted to dive in to tickle her. I didn’t move.
“I brought you something,” I said. “But now I’m not sure you deserve it.”
She crossed her arms and waited.
I smiled and leaned down and picked up the lavender iced matcha I brought her.
Her eyes lit up. “How did you know I wanted to try this?”
“I felt it shimmer down the trauma bond.”
She laughed again and took it. “Thank you. I can never rationalize paying eight dollars for a drink.”
I knew this. That’s why I got it for her. I knew she liked matcha and lavender and I also knew she couldn’t afford the pricey drinks she delivered to other people.
She sipped it and closed her eyes. “Oh my God, it’s so good,” she breathed.
“Is it beef-stick-in-the-woods good?”
“Better.”
I felt it like a warmth in my chest. I’d been living for this moment since the second I had the idea.
I loved seeing her happy. It was turning into a hobby of mine—as much as I could make it one. I couldn’t do most of what I’d like to because what else was I allowed to do that wasn’t overstepping? I’d been thinking about that a lot.
I’d been thinking about a lot of things lately.
She started to wrestle a tote bag up from the floor. I leaned over and grabbed it. “What else do you have?” I asked.
“Just my luggage,” she said. “I’ll get it.”
“Nope. Where’s it at?”
She gave me a look. “I can carry my own luggage.”
“I’m sure you can. Bedroom?”
Her amused expression was her answer as I handed her the dog, then edged past her and cut through the apartment.
When I came back, she had a quizzical look on her face. “How did you know where my room was?”
“Your mom showed me,” I said. “A couple of weeks ago when I was picking up Woofarine. You were doing deliveries.”
“My mom showed you my room?” she said loud enough for Nancy to hear from the sofa. Larissa shot her an amused look.
“What?” Nancy said, shrugging. “I wanted to show him the curtains you made.”
Larissa rolled her eyes. “She has no boundaries.”
“If it makes you feel better, they’re very nice curtains,” I said.
“Ha. Thanks,” she said, putting on her flip-flops.
“Was that the jewelry box Mike got you for your birthday?” I asked as she locked the door behind us. “In your room?”
She brightened again. “Yes! I love it. He got it from a guy in Wakan. It’s custom made.”
The corner of my lip quirked up.
He hadn’t told me he got the jewelry box. I hadn’t seen Mike much. Not since that day I dropped him off in the parking lot.
He paid me back a few days after that, then threw himself into working for Tony. In fact, he was working for Tony so much, he didn’t even have time to meet us at the gym. Even Jesse was complaining.
He hadn’t filled his Prozac prescription.
I asked him about it, and he said the soonest he could get back in with his doctor was six weeks. He said the therapist he promised he’d see was three months out. This was typical, our mental health care system was shit. I was just glad he was trying.
I loaded her bags and got into the driver’s seat. Woofarine was already in her lap.
“Should I look for a place to eat on the way up?” she asked, pulling out her phone.
I adjusted my mirror. “I already found a place midway. No nuts in the kitchen, I called.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Her flip-flop fell off and she tucked her foot under her on the seat.
I felt her looking at me as I pulled away from the curb. “What?”
She was laughing at my face again.
“Stop.”
“I want you to know that I am fighting for my life over here. This is going to be a very long drive for you.”
“You know what that little girl did when she was doing it?” I asked. “What she was saying as I was being defaced?”
“What?”
“She was narrating, like she was doing one of those makeup tutorials?”
“You are a saint. Besides the permanent marker, how’s work been?”
I let out a long breath. Not good? “Yesterday I got yelled at by a ninety-year-old woman who wanted me to fill a prescription for quaaludes that she found in her house from 1972,” I said.
“No…” she said.
“Yes. Then a guy asked me to help him pick out a cortisone cream for a bug bite. I came out to help him and we’re in the aisle and he shows me his calf—it’s swollen and streaked.
He’s got cellulitis.” I turned onto the highway.
“I told him he needed to get to the ER immediately if he wanted to save his leg and he told me to go fuck myself.”
She shook her head. “Why are they always telling you to go fuck yourself?”
“Because I work retail pharmacy? People are sick and injured, coming in to pay hundreds of dollars on medicine they wish they didn’t need. They’re already in a shitty mood.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she said, petting Woofarine.
“I’m used to it.” I was used to more than I liked to admit.
We stopped for gas. I pumped and she went inside. My phone rang while I was leaning against my car. Mike.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said, answering.
“Where the fuck you two at? You kidnap my girlfriend or what?”
He was drinking. Not drunk, but definitely drinking. This wasn’t really noteworthy—we all drank at the cabin—but it was only 9:00 a.m.
I glanced at Larissa in the Circle K. “We had to stop to get gas. We’re still down here.”
“Damn, dude. Hurry up, I wanna see her. I’ve been here without her half a week already.”
“Hey, you need to clean out the freezer and pantry before we get there. Get rid of all the nuts.”
“Okay,” he said, obviously distracted.
I put my phone to my other ear. “Mike, I’m serious. Do it now. Your sponge had peanut butter on it and her throat itched for half a day. If anyone busts that stuff out while she’s there, she’s gonna have a reaction.”
“Yeah yeah, I got it.”
“Do you want to FaceTime me from the fridge? Just to make sure you don’t miss anything?”
He laughed. “Man, I think I know what has nuts in it. Hurry the fuck up.”
The call ended.
I blew out a breath. I finished pumping the gas, locked the doors, auto started the car for the dog, and went in after Larissa. I found her in the chip aisle, a bag of Lay’s and pretzels under her arm.
“Twizzlers?” she asked, holding them up. “And I got you that energy drink you like.”
“How do you know I like it?”
“Trauma bond.”
I eyed her.
“I saw it on your coffee table when I was picking up Woofarine,” she said. “I did not go in your room.”
“Hey, Nancy is hard to say no to.”
“Oh, I know. You should see all the streaming passwords we have.”
I snorted. “Let me take this,” I said, grabbing things from her.
I took the snacks, picked up a new sponge, went to the counter, and pulled out my wallet.
“Let me give you money,” she said, coming up behind me.
“No.”
“Can I pay for gas?” she asked, hovering.
“Also no.”
“Chriiiiis.”
“I’d be buying the gas whether you were in my car or not,” I said, tapping my card.
“Then let’s take my car next time.”
“Nope. Your car’s a piece of shit.”
She choked on her laugh. “Oh, wow. You know, I can’t believe I thought you were crabby once.”
I had to look away from her. That was becoming my least favorite memory.
When we got back in the car, she picked up where we left off. “You don’t need to always pay for everything.” She dug in the bag of snacks and opened the Twizzlers. She stuck one in her mouth and handed me two. “It’s okay for some things to be a negotiation.”