23. Georgie
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
GEORGIE
It’s as if nothing could break the cloud of good looming over me.
Things are going scarily well. I have very few flares.
It’s a nice reprieve from the monsters of the previous week, and I welcome the break.
Birdie and I get along like two peas in a pod.
I find out she is a snuggle monster, enjoys curling up under blankets and only eats when I am eating.
This is a cause for concern because after this weekend, I have no idea what our new routine will be when I go back to work.
Will she eat when I am not here? I always leave some dry kibble down for her to munch, but she flat out refuses to eat it unless she sees me eating too.
Franny has already agreed to take the ‘happy hippos,’ the term we’ve affectionately labelled Bennie and Birdie as a dynamic duo, for walks and to the dog park on the days when I am working, so I don’t have to worry about her destroying the place.
This entire weekend, I kept the secret that I am fostering Birdie.
Noah has been working hard at Get Crafty on a very large custom yarn order anyways, so he hasn’t had time to notice.
But he always makes the time to call me.
We video chat at night, and I make sure to keep Birdie off the screen.
I don’t know how to surprise him with the news, but video call is not how I want him to find out.
And then there’s my mom. She calls me and asks me why I haven’t been to visit her, if I’ve ended up in the hospital again, and I have to reassure her with a visit that I am not in fact in a hospital or laid up from a secret surgery I didn’t tell her about.
Needless to say, the moment she opens the door and is greeted by Birdie’s wiggling butt and my sheepish grin, she seems to understand.
She gets the full story out of me over coffee and tea.
She of course already knew about Noah, but I realized that I forgot to tell her that I met him, that I kissed him, that he and I are…
Well, I don’t know yet, but whatever we are, it’s really, really good.
I tell her about the trip to the shelter, about Birdie, who is soaking in the attention from Mom without hesitation.
Why she was ever labelled a troubled dog is beyond me, and Mom agrees.
But then she changes the subject and starts to ask the tough questions I knew were inevitably coming.
“And he knows about your HS?”
“Yes. He’s been… amazing about the whole thing, like really amazing.” I feel my cheeks flush pink and warm to touch.
“I can tell you really like him, honey. I just worry that you might be going a little too quickly… you know how quickly things moved with Brandon.” She says thoughtfully as she pets Birdie’s face, who is perfectly content sitting with her chin in Mom’s lap forever.
“I do, but I think this is different. It feels different. I feel… right for the first time in a long time.” I look away, twisting my fingers nervously,
“Do you think I’m crazy?”
She smiles, touching my hand to stop the nervous fretting, “I think that love makes us do crazy things, but I don’t think you’re crazy. What do I always say?”
“Love is blind.”
She nods, “Love is blind. When you care about someone, you look past the flaws or imperfections because you only want to see the best in them.”
“He’s already seen me at my worst.” I remind her.
Mom nods again, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Have you seen his worst?”
“I don’t know that he has one.” I snort at the joke, “But I’m sure I will eventually. And when I do, I will be cautious. I won’t let another Brandon happen.”
Mom beams, “I can see he makes you happy. I’d like to meet him sometime. I could make dinner for us, and Franny could come too. I miss my second daughter,”
All this good in my life is like a breath of fresh air, and I just have to hold out hope that it stays for a while.
Returning home from our visit to Mom’s, Birdie and I curl up in bed with a good book and her new favourite toy, a stuffed snowy owl that is so freaking fitting it’s precious.
Her head rests on my thighs, her paws tucked under her chin as she looks up at me and sighs before slipping off to sleep.
I gently remove her pink bow from her ears, making it more comfortable for her, and then I sink into the covers, into her ever present pressure comforting me.
It’s so easy to let myself fall asleep, but it's equally as hard to wake myself up in the morning. It’s Birdie who does, her cool nose kissing my cheek and her tiny little grumbles to tell me my phone’s alarm is going off and disrupting her sleep.
I blink blearily, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
The sun streams through my blue curtains, and if I listen close enough, I can softly hear the twitter of the birds outside my window on a warm August morning.
“Should we take a stroll before I go to work?” I ask Birdie, who gives me a lopsided stare, tongue lolling and then a yawn in response.
She picks out a new headband, a yellow one with daisy flowers.
She does her happy hippo dance as I place it and her harness on her.
Still dressed in my plaid pyjama shorts and an old baggy shirt and no bra to be had, we take our morning walk around the block.
The new route is becoming the new normal.
The skies are the bluest I’ve seen them in days; the white clouds look as soft as cotton candy, billowy and happy and not a raincloud to be seen.
Birdie greets everyone she sees, and it’s like the headbands have magic powers that somehow make her seem more approachable, as if she wasn’t the kindest, sweetest baby on the block in comparison to the yapping rat of a dog in #402.
The morning risers of the block actually smile at her, calling her ‘pretty girl’ and cooing.
They ask me when I got a dog, and instead of telling them that I am just fostering her, I tell them she came home a few days ago. It feels right to say that.
I take in the views of vibrant green plants soaking in the sun, and the clear skies ahead and wonder how quickly an adoption application would be processed to keep her. She’s right where she belongs, and if I tell myself she’s not staying, I’d be lying.
“Okay, you’re all medicined up, you’re looking cute as ever, and I have to go to work so you’re going to have a playdate with Bennie. How does that sound?” Her whole-body shimmies. “Oh, you like him, huh? Is he your boyfriend?”
Birdie woos at me, a long drawn-out excited noise that sounds like a little seal. It makes me laugh, and I pepper her face in kisses. “Right then, let’s go to Bennie’s house!”
Franny takes her leash from my hand at the front door of her apartment, and I hesitate letting go. What if she misses me? What if she panics? What if—
“She’ll be fine. And if she’s not, I’ll call you.” Franny reassures me.
“What if she thinks I’ve abandoned her?”
“Come home for lunch if you’re worried, but you don’t have to be worried. You’ve spoiled her rotten, and she knows you’re not abandoning her. Plus, look. She’s not even phased by this. Our children are gonna get married,”
I follow her pointed finger to where Bennie and Birdie are playing with a tug toy, and when Birdie gives up, Bennie gives her the toy and a kiss, and the play repeats itself. I smile and rub the back of my neck, “They are pretty cute, aren’t they?”
“I will send all kinds of doggy day care photos. Now go.”
I roll my eyes. “Goodbye, Francis.”
“See ya, George.”
The walk to work is hardly as nice as the morning walk, mostly because Birdie isn’t with me, partly because the final block is slightly uphill, and definitely because my mind is elsewhere.
It’s amazing to me that in the span of such a short time, something or someone can come into your life and completely flip your world upside down.
You have no idea how your life could ever go back to the way it was before they entered your life, and yet you know you wouldn't want to, even if that was ever an option.
“She’s going to be a bit sad today, I think, Abi.” Noah comments as I walk through the front door.
“Who’s going to be sad?” I say with a smile, walking over to his open armed embrace and letting him pull me in. Abi meets my eyes and gives me a smile.
“You might be. I have some news for you.” He tells me, and I still, looking up at him with a curious expression.
“Oh?”
“I went to PPP yesterday for a visit when you went to your moms, and—I found out someone is fostering Birdie.”
“Oh! Oh,” I say excitedly, then lower my excitement to a normal level as if to show him that I am in fact saddened by the fact that she’s literally back in my apartment building. “That’s great,”
“It is. But I know you bonded with her. I just hope this place sticks. If she comes back, they’ll label her unadoptable.” He rubs the back of his neck. His eyes flicker to me, up then down, then grins and says, “You look really cute today.”
“Thanks,” I say with a twirl.
I know how cute this outfit is, I picked it out for this reason.
My navy white and white pinstripe wide leg capris flow when I walk, making me feel very comfortable and cute in the high waisted bottoms. The tight black crop top was mostly because of how sweltering it is and little because I know it makes my boobs look fantastic in a modest way.
The day passes by quickly for about the first hour, I help Noah pack an online order he’s been working on, and then I stock the puzzle shelf with our latest 3D stock.
On my break, I barely get a chance to sit on our staff room’s couch before Franny calls me.
Instantly I feel sick. She told me she would only call if—
“George,” her face graces my screen, cheeks pink.
“Fran, is she okay?” I ask, glancing warily around the room for signs of Noah or Abi.
“She’s… not not okay? She’s just… I think she’s broken,” She whispers, making me want to laugh.
“What’s wrong?”