Page 53 of Forever Flustered

Picking up his pen, he quickly signed the offer… and booked a flight.

CHAPTER 17

MAUREEN

Gosh, I miss him…

That same thought went through her mind repeatedly as the days wore on. It had been almost two weeks with no word from Eli. Sidewinder – eh, Bode – had come by twice to check on her, and so had Harley. She had been to ‘girls’ night’ with the ladies from Flyboys, but she felt like an outsider. They were trying so hard to reach out, to include her, to offer a hand in friendship – but she wasn’t one of them.

Eli had decided that when he left and effectively cut ties with her… and no matter what her heart said, that was what her brain told her. You couldn’t love someone if you didn’t talk to them. You couldn’t have a relationship if there was no trust or discussion between you. She had finally written him an email, breaking down and giving in to the emptiness… only to have the email bounce back.

Talk about a sign from God there… sheesh.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Getting to her feet, Maureen answered it and hesitated. A delivery guy was standing there, sweating buckets, and kept looking around nervously, holding one of those fancy ‘Edible Arrangements’ concoctions.

“Seriously?” Maureen said flatly, fighting the glimmer of hope that seemed to flare to life before she quelled it. “Hand it over,” she ordered the guy and took the arrangement in her hands. “You know how freakin’ expensive these things are? I would have rather had a free email than a bunch of fruit on overgrown toothpicks.”

“I’m just the delivery guy, ma’am…” he squawked, holding out the clipboard. “Can you sign this?”

“No, you know that?” Maureen began unloading on the poor man as soon as she realized that the delivery was nothing but melons. No strawberries, no grapes, just a bunch of melons – but the only ‘melon’ she wanted was on the other side of the planet, avoiding her. “If this is his lame version of an ‘I’m sorry’ – it’s not going to work. All you guys think you can just waltz in, looking all cute and sexy…”

“Ma’am?” the guy yelped, backing away awkwardly.

“You don’t get to do that, you know?” Maureen growled, stepping forward and shoving her finger into the stranger’s chest. “He comes here, shows up in my life completely perfect from top to bottom – and then poof. I hate that. You cannot show up - kiss me, poof me, then ghost me – and then fruit me!” she wailed, breaking down as she sank to her knees in the grass helplessly. “He’s gone… he’s literally fruiting me from the other side, and I can’t take it.”

“Oh gosh – are you saying that your dude is dead?!” the man exclaimed in horror, looking around again for anyone to help him from the obviously hysterical woman who was descending into madness quickly. “You need serious mental help, lady…”

“I knowwww!” Maureen wailed, collapsing in the grass. “I’m all about signs lately – and I think I need another one. It would be the ultimate sign from God if I put my forehead right into a sticker patch for the pain I’m feeling right now, or maybe dog poo because this stinks – or even maybe a fire ant mound, because…”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

Maureen dragged in a breath as she sank her fingers into the grass, sobbing. I’ve lost my mind, and now I’m imagining him… or I’m dead. Maybe I’m lying in the yard, expiring, with a fruit bowl made up of only melon pieces. “I liked the strawberries too, you know…”

A boot appeared in the distance as she closed her eyes again – hallucinations…

Hearing the crunch of the grass, she realized that it was probably beyond time to start running the sprinklers at night, and lay there letting her mind wander. If this was a hallucination or a mental break, she wasn’t quite sure she wanted it to end. No, she would simply exist here, lying in the grass, with the fruit that was sure to bring flies, ants, and other critters… and she didn’t care.

“Are we doing this?”

“I hear you, but I can’t see you…”

“It’s because your eyes are closed.”

“And it’s because you are a sexy figment of my imagination.”

“I have those.”

“Figments? Or imaginations?”

“Both – maybe. What kind of figment are we discussing? The purply thing at Disney, or is this a dirty reference?”

“See – and that’s how I know you aren’t my Eli.”

“How?”

“Well, he doesn’t make dirty comments toward me. He’s got a broomstick eternally stuck up his cute bum.”

“I see.” Eli chuckled softly from nearby. Was he in the grass beside her - or another clue that she was hallucinating? “He does indeed, but someone once told him this was a safe space – and that he could say whatever was on his mind.”