Rowan #2
The drive is thankfully uneventful, besides Milo’s impromptu karaoke session, where I learn two things.
One of which is that any rumors of Milo using auto-tune must come from jealousy, because he has the voice of an angel.
Like, seriously, he sounds good even when he’s laughing through half the song and not even trying.
The second lesson is that I really can’t say no to Milo. Not when he’s begging and still looking adorable in my jacket, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him bring the sleeve up to his nose to sniff.
So when he begs me to sing, despite me being the complete opposite of a singer—the voice of death, is what I believe Reagan called it—I cave and allow myself to be laughed at, and find that I don’t even care, because Milo is smiling from the heart as if our earlier quarrel had never happened.
The excitement is amplified even more when we finally make it to the nursing home. Milo is hopping out of the car as soon as I park. He’s still wearing my jacket. The sleeves are so long on him that they swing freely on either side of him as he runs into the nursing home.
Running to catch up with him at least means I’m inside before I even have a chance to feel the biting wind.
“Ethel! I’m here!”
I follow Milo’s voice and see him hugging a little old woman. Ethel is half Milo’s size and absolutely drowning in the hug, so I can’t really get a good look at her until they pull apart.
Ethel is a tiny woman with a head full of thick, gray hair and a wrinkly face etched in a permanent smile. She’s the typical sweet, old lady you think of when imagining a grandmother, which is not what I’ve been expecting from Milo’s earlier comment.
“Oh, my. Is this your new bodyguard?” Ethel says sweetly when she catches sight of me. “Why, isn’t he just a fine piece of ass!”
My polite smile freezes at her words, but Milo is still grinning without a care in the world, like he’s used to this.
“Dearie, you didn’t tell me he’s so drool-worthy. Why have you been keeping this fine specimen away from me for so long?”
She speaks using a sweet old-lady voice, but I’ve never heard a granny use such provocative words.
“Ethel, stop it. You’re scaring him,” a young woman’s voice rings out from behind us. Milo’s face goes pale.
“Did you just say the forbidden words?” Milo gasps. “Telling Ethel to stop is like throwing water on a grease fire. It only makes things worse.”
“Stop it, boy. You’re being dramatic,” Ethel chides. She’s still smiling, but I see it now: the evil glint in her eye that is not unlike the one Milo gets in his eye when he’s teasing me.
I can see why they get along so well, but I have a feeling they would both revolt if I told them my theory.
Ethel strides toward me on surprisingly speedy legs, despite using a cane, and unceremoniously feels up my biceps and pecs.
“Nice and firm. You’ll do just fine at protecting him,” she says and thumbs toward Milo, who has a palm to his forehead.
“Can you not feel up my bodyguard on your first time meeting him?” Milo says with an exasperated groan.
“Calm your titties. No one’s going to steal your man. I still have my eyes on your last one.”
Milo rolls his eyes. “Jack is still happily married, and he’s like thirty years younger than you.”
“So what? Does he have something against experienced women who know what they want? The old men are doing it, so why can’t I?” she says with a sniff.
“Doesn’t change the fact that he’s married,” Milo grumbles, but Ethel either doesn’t hear or chooses to ignore him.
She turns her sweet, kind, smiling face to me, and I’ve never been more terrified in my life.
“So, Mr. Mountain Man, what are your intentions with my boy?” she asks, her voice dripping with honey.
“Uh”—my eyes dart to Milo, who’s still shaking his head—“to keep him safe?”
“Mmhmm. Interesting, very interesting indeed.” She hums, then turns back to Milo and says, “You two better have the wedding while I’m still alive and kicking. Better hurry. Who knows how many years these old bones have left.”
“Ethel!” Milo admonishes. I didn’t think Milo had the ability to feel shy, but he’s looking downright bashful now. I tug on the collar of my shirt, feeling the warmth of the heat…or maybe it’s Ethel’s words.
“You can’t say things like that! You’re going to live another twenty years, if I have anything to say about it! Besides, as they say, evil never dies,” Milo says sweetly.
There’s so much to unpack there, and I’m still trying to figure out whether Milo is careless with his words or if he just doesn’t care and blurts out whatever the hell he wants. Never mind the fact that he didn’t even correct her on the fact that we’re not getting married.
We’re not even a couple, or anything near that. What Milo and I have is a strictly professional relationship, and I guess we’re now friends—BFFs or whatever—but a little friendship never hurt anyone.
“Careful, boy. I might be old, but I can still whoop your ass all the way to Sunday.” Apparently, she didn’t miss the casual insult thrown her way.
“Pure chaos, I tell you,” Milo whispers to me. I can’t help but smirk at how ironic his choice of words is. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.
At that moment, a stern-looking bald man, who I would guess is in his thirties, comes marching over to us with purpose.
“Ethel, can you explain why there are zucchini and a box of condoms and lube in every room?” The man growls the question.
“I don’t see the problem, Bob.” Ethel blinks up at the man innocently. “What do you expect us to do after you instituted a no-fraternization rule?”
The man’s entire head turns red. “That’s to keep you all safe. And you couldn’t get dildos or something? You know, something more normal? And why is there zucchini in the men’s rooms too?”
Ethel shrugs, and Milo’s hiding half his face behind the sleeves of my leather jacket, looking like he’s trying to keep from laughing.
“We can’t deprive men of the fun! And you’re always telling us we need more vegetables in our diet. I think a thank-you is well deserved for my help,” she argues, still using her sweet-as-honey tone.
The man looks like he’s two seconds from blowing his top, and apparently, this interaction is more than he can handle. Without replying, he promptly turns around and exits the conversation, while muttering something that sounds an awful like “This is why I’m balding so early.”
Ethel cackles at his departing back, then turns to us. “Bob is a sweetheart, but a bit of a prude. This new rule won’t last a week.”
“My question is, who did you send to do your bidding? I can’t imagine it being easy to get that many zucchinis here all at once. Not to mention the condoms and lube,” Milo comments and glides to her side. He loops his arm through hers.
“A lady never gives away her secrets,” she says mysteriously, then turns to me. “Well, c’mon, then. We need to grab lunch now if I’m going to make the afternoon bingo game. That old hag Stella has been stealing my seat—the best seat in the entire room. I won’t let her get to it before me today!”
I run after them, afraid of what might happen to me if Ethel doesn’t get her way. I watch their backs, wondering how in the world I’m going to manage two agents of chaos.
Milo is engaged in conversation with Ethel as we walk, and the easy happiness that comes off him makes me think that maybe a little chaos isn’t all that bad.