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“To start,” he paused, struggling to speak between the sounds of exaggerated pain, “I’m going home. I hate that damn block party downtown. I wish they’d shut it down. It was a battlefield out there.”
I flinched, my muscles tight. “I hate that word.”
Ben’s face flushed, his body limp while his frustrated expression fell with a hand extended to me apologetically. “I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking. Have you…heard anything?”
“No,” I turned away from him, “not since February.” I want Muffin. I want a drink.
Ben finished getting dressed and joined me near the sink where I splashed water on my face to try and take the edge off. His palm smacked between my shoulder blades, and I looked up at his smiling face, his brows lifting playfully.
“How about that girl from the other night?” Now I want Lizzie.
“She’s a friend,” I lied. “A friend going through some serious shit. Look, man, I’m just not in the mood right now. I’ll see you later.” Without further explanation to Ben, I threw on my clothes and left the locker room. Thinking of getting called up felt strangely burdensome, filling me with a restless edge I couldn’t quite overcome this time around.
The unease nagged at me all evening, lingering over my shoulders while I stitched wounds after two bar fights, held a toddler whose smoke alarm went off, and most of all while I agitatedly paced the station waiting for the chief. I was sprawled along a sofa when he entered the room, my gaze glossed over while I stared at particles in the air. Muffin’s dripping jowls slid along my forearm as he tried to climb onto the couch with me but couldn’t because his ancient joints resisted. I came to; thankful my buddy was there.
“Here,” the chief grunted, dropping a small blue bag on my stomach. Lifting Muffin onto my chest, I peered over his rotund frame at the sparkling ribbon holding the bag’s handles together.
“Don’t hate me for forgetting our anniversary, babe,” I teased him. “Boss made me pull a double, and I couldn’t stop for your flowers.”
“Cute,” he mocked with a laugh, rolling his eyes at me. “It was on your porch.” That piqued my interest, considering Callie was too narcissistic or selfish to fathom ever gifting someone anything except for regret; I didn’t know who else would have given me something. I sat up and reached for the bag, poking one finger between the layers of tissue paper to look inside.
“It isn’t going to bite you, Rossi,” the chief groaned. He approached me, arms extended for my betraying dog to climb into, and started to pace while whispering something to Muffin.
My back ached from the thin cushions of the couch as I leaned forward to place the bag between my feet on the floor. Muffin wiggled from the chief’s arms, happy to swat at the balls of tissue paper I tossed against the floor. There was a small glass bowl inside, swelling the plastic lid with its contents. I reached for the handwritten card, opening the lid and swiftly dying at the delicious scent of chocolate chip cookies.
I think my tired eyes rolled backward with each inhale of those cookies, falling like a stereotype into mush when my stomach rumbled with hunger and my heart thumped as I read the card.
Mermaid,
One is on my side. The other is hard to find.
I also like to leave things to the imagination.
Enjoy your cookies and call me if you ever feel like taking a walk again.
Lizzie
I reread Lizzie’s note six times before realizing I held my breath. I knew she was talking about her tattoos, and that about destroyed what remained of my resolve. My jaw throbbed while I grinded my teeth, failing to resist the smile she brought to my face. All thoughts of my conversation with Ben from the beginning of my double vanished for a moment, replaced by the deliriously taunting image of Lizzie and where her third tattoo might be. Days. I’d known her days and she consumed my thoughts.
“Callie?” I heard the chief question while stepping away from me, my dog nuzzled into his elbow with a soft snore accompanying my boss’s word.
“No,” I snapped. Hell no. She is not about to come anywhere near this. I took my phone from my pocket, my fingers actually shaking. I debated whether it was the caffeine required for my double shift or her, knowing it was actually Lizzie who shook me. What do I say? Hi? I think you’re incredible and I also like you way more than I should?Shit. Should. What a subjective bastard of a term. I should like her. Her wit was enough to do me in the first time I saw her, let alone when she proposed. I had to text her, and it needed to be on par with her card.
Me: You do realize once we’re married I’ll know where your tattoos are?
I pinched my lip between my thumb and index finger while I waited, trying to subdue the hormonal rush that washed over me while waiting for her reply. I save lives, I’d like to think I’m strong, but I hadn’t felt the uncertainty of waiting for a girl since Jade years ago, and…she’d like Lizzie. A lot. I had to tell myself that. Callie was a mistake, Jade was gone, and Lizzie…Lizzie was now. But who knows when I’ll be gone? I couldn’t focus on the future. I needed now. I’d deal with the rest whenever it came.
Lizzie: I’ll have to get more to spice up our marriage.
Me: Feel like walking?
Lizzie: That depends…
Me: On…
It took seven painful minutes for her to reply, but when she did, I lost feeling in everything below my waist and I almost passed out.
Lizzie: How far you’ll take me.
