I raise my hand, stopping him. “No need to say anything. I get it. I came in like a tornado, and you had to help contain it. I get it. It won’t happen again. Trust me. I’ll figure out my shit on my own. Now,” I click the button on my watch, setting it to record my run, “if you’ll excuse me. I’m going for a long run. See ya!”
He ruinedmy sleep with his grouchiness, then my mood this morning with his attitude. I don’t understand why he’s getting under my skin this much. It’s not often I let people ruin my mood, and he has done it several times now, annoying me to no end.
The run helped, and so did the everything shower I took right after. Now, I’m ready to tackle the rest of this shed. I open the double doors, turn the lights on, and see exactly why I didn’t finish yesterday. The damn shelf I can’t reach. I was going to ask Dom for help, but you know what? I don’t need it. I don’t need his help, or anyone’s for that matter.
I can do hard things. Yes, I can.
I march my way right into the utilities shed beside this one and search for something to help.
Bingo!
There’s a tall ladder, taller than what I need, but it’ll have to do. “Why is it so heavy?” I pull and pull until we’ve made it outside unscathed. We: me and the ladder, besties now. Now, I must drag it to the shed I’m cleaning. “This one is going to be a motherfucker.”
“Who?” Why is this man always showing up at the most inconvenient times?
“Dominic, hello. What are you doing here?” I turn to face him and find him with an almost smile on his face. Would it kill him to smile once?
“I came to grab some tools from the shed.”
“What a coinkydink! I also needed a tool from the shed. See?”
“A ladder is not a tool.”
“Same, same.” I shrug. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to take it with me. I hope it wasn’t the ladder you needed. If so, you’re going to have to wait.”
“And how are you proposing to take that ladder over to the shed?”
“Woooow, that’s the most amount of words I’ve heard you say in a row. Sounds like someone’s learning.” I wrap my arms around the ladder. “Look, I can do it.” I drag the ladder with me.
“You’re gonna get hurt,” he says.
“Why do you care?” I ask with a grunt. Damn it, this is heavy and obnoxious.
“Do you want help?” he asks. I don’t want to play Miss Independent. I do need help. But not from him. Not after he mistreated me.
“Nope.” I’m basically huffing and puffing. I stop; there’s not much I can do without breathing, and the damn shed is so far away.
Damn it.
In a few long strides, he stands next to me and takes the ladderout of my hands. “You are so annoyingly tall. That’s the only reason I’m letting you help.”
He carries the ladder toward the shed without breaking a sweat. “You know, I’ve never heard that complaint before.”
“What complaint?”
“About being tall. Usually, it's a good thing, but you said annoyingly, so I guess for you, it’s not.”
Well, yeah, duh, because it’s so damn annoying I can’t just climb him like a tree to make him smile or something.
“It’s probably because women are too distracted by all that salt and pepper-ness you have going on.”
“What?” he asks, stepping through the shed doors and opening the ladder right in the middle. He looks around, searching for where I need it, but it’s clear as day. The only shelf I haven't cleaned yet. He sets the ladder there and looks down at me. “What is salt and pepper-ness?”
I motion towards his face. “Your hair color. Black and gray.”
“Is it distracting?”
I shrug. “For most people, maybe. But I’m immune.”
