I spend three days staring at Lex’s jacket hanging over the back of a barstool in my kitchen before I decide to do something about it.
After our exchange I’d completely forgotten I had her jacket tied around my waist until I’d got home, and then I’d immediately felt guilty about being so rude to her. She’d gone out of her way to save me from an embarrassing situation, and how did I thank her? By slamming a door in her face and stealing her jacket.
It’s not her fault she doesn’t believe in the curse—no one does. I’d stopped trying to explain it to anyone long ago. The only reason she knows about it was because we’d spent hours together in the terse silence of a hospital waiting room and I’d felt vulnerable. I thought my confession was safe with her since we were never going to see each other again. Guess I was wrong.
But now I have her jacket. I can’t bring myself tonotreturn it. It’s a nice jacket, Carhartt. Probably cost a couple hundred dollars. You can’t just replace a jacket like that—not in this economy. I’ll have to return it, but without having to talk to her. Or her sexy brother.
Since I know where they both live, the easiest thing to do will be to drop it off on their doorstep and simply walk away. No need to make a big deal out of it. Get in, get out, move on with my life.
I bring the jacket with me to work, and afterwards I navigate to the pub where Olsen and I met. Following the route we walked that terrible night, I find my way back to his house. Olsen’s neighbourhood is even more impressive in the daylight: The updated older houses have well-kept lawns, ample street parking, and established trees. All the vehicles parked outside are new models, void of dirt or scuff marks. With how much I pay for my dingy basement suite, I can only imagine what the mortgage on a place like this is. I knew doctors made a lot of money, but damn.
Eyeing the house, I look for signs of movement. It’s five thirty, and I have no idea what kind of hours doctors run. If it’s anything likeGrey’s AnatomyI’m assuming he mostly lives at the hospital. It’s also too bright and sunny out here for me to tell if any lights are on. After waiting a few moments and seeing no one pass in front of the windows, I walk up the pathway to his front porch. Just as my foot lowers onto the first step, the doorknob turns and two voices echo out into the front yard. A man’s voice, Olsen’s, and a woman’s voice...
Not Lex? No. Definitely not Lex.Lex’s voice is like Olsen’s, deeper in timbre with a slight rasp, and the cadence of carefully chosen words. This woman’s voice is light and tinkling, like a windchime.
Before they see me, I duck behind one of the posts supporting the eaves of the front porch, press my back against it, and slide down so I’m hidden from view.
“I had a really great time last night,” comes Olsen’s voice.
“Me, too,” says the woman.
“And this morning, and this afternoon,” Olsen adds.
The woman laughs much harder than she should. “You’resofunny!”
Oof, the lameness is bordering on painful. I hope she was more creative and interesting in the sack than this exchange lets on. On one hand, I’m sad I couldn’t even get the guy’s phone number after our embarrassing excuse of a hookup. On the other, I’m glad he’s well enough after his surgery to perform at such a high capacity.
The two of them kiss goodbye, which quickly morphs into sounds of moaning, groaning, licking, and sucking. I try not to gag.Please, make it stop.
Oh, shit. The moment their goodbye make-out session is over the woman is going to walk down the stairs and my cover will be blown. They’ll think I’m spying on them like some perverted peeping Tom. I can picture it now: her screaming, me shoutingit’s not what it looks like!,the woman turning to Olsen and yelling at him for having another woman on the side, me having to explain to the woman the whole cock-in-zipper fiasco, then to Olsen as to why I have his sister’s jacket—all things I want to avoid. I have exactly three point five seconds to find a better hiding spot. My only option is the bush tucked against the side of his house.
Their noisy goodbye is, thankfully, perfect cover for me to squeeze my way behind the bush. I push my way in, trying to jostle the foliage as little as possible. Branches scrape at my arms and legs, tug at my clothes, and one almost pokes me in the eye. I swallow the pain down and force myself to be still, andjust in time—the clip-clop of footsteps descends the stairs, and then the path, until they fade away into the distance. Finally, the front door shuts.
“Ow,” I say, rubbing my watery eye. I’m not sure what’s worse, the pain of nearly losing my sight to a bush, or watching a different woman live my dream of enjoying another person’s company without the world descending into awkward chaos.
Jacket in hand, I begin extricating myself from the bush. Getting in, as it turns out, was much easier than it is getting out. The bush is much more brambly than I expected. The inner jumble of twisted, jabby branches is hidden by all the leaves on the outside. A tangle of my hair gets snagged on one branch while Lex’s jacket becomes stuck on another. “Ah, fuck.” I give a small tug to one, then the other. Neither give. In fact, I think I’m more stuck now than before. This bush is like quicksand, sucking me further in the more I struggle. I try shifting to the right, then to my left, but no dice. Maybe if I—
Someone clears their throat.
I twist in my spot, tangling my hair even further. “Ah, fuck,” I repeat, louder this time.
It’s Lex. Judging by her perplexed expression, she’s trying to figure out why the hell I’m wrestling with the bush outside her house. She stares at me. I stare back.
“I’m returning your jacket,” I say, thrusting it forward. The jacket protests with a loudriiiiiipas a bramble tears through the sleeve.
Lex continues staring.
“I can fix that,” I say. “I mean. Not me. I can pay someone else to fix that. I’ve never sewed anything in my life. It’s a lost art, like, could you imagine just two generations ago we all had to sew our own clothes, and—”
“What are you doing?” Lex interrupts.
I look from Lex to her jacket and back. “I thought you might want this.”
“No, what are you doing in—” She gestures vaguely to the bush.
“If I told you it was the curse, would you believe me?”
She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. “Let me help you.” Lex abandons trying to make sense of my life and instead steps forward to begin untangling me. She makes quick work of my hair, then of my clothes, and then, with a firm grip on my hand, pulls me free.
