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Yeah, it is.
Landon has only flitted through my mind a few times since I saved his life two days ago. One time, I remembered how sincerely sweet he was when I told him about Rae. The other times consisted of dim flashes of him in general.
I never dwelled on any of it. A memory of him would crop up, flicker for a second, and then fade again, and my attention would go back to working or cooking or driving or whatever. He was in good shape when we parted ways Tuesday night, so I haven’t intentionally thought about him—haven’t taken the time to wonder how he’s doing.
Buthe hastaken the time to wonder about Rae and me.
So, yes, it’s nice, but it also kind of makes me feel guilty.
No, whatever,I think firmly.I’m not mean for concentrating on my own life. I’m not a jerk for thinking about things Ialwaysthink about, rather than a guy I barely know.
I nod to myself.
I have to remember heisjust some guy. He’s not Rae. He’s not me. He’s not the landlord. He’s not my boss. Why should I be expected to think about him?
It hits me that I haven’t followed Rae into the apartment yet. I’ve just been standing outside our open door, staring at Landon’s note. I sigh and head inside—and promptly trip over something small and clunky. I look down at a pink sneaker and roll my eyes.
“Rae, come on, child. What do I tell you about kicking your shoes off right in the middle of the walkway?”
A squeaky, “Oops!” comes from her room.
It has me chuckling. How can she take off her shoes right when she walks through the door and not think about scooting them into the corner? The corner isright there.
Kids, I guess.
I start on our late-afternoon itinerary with my happy mood intact, for Ihavehad a good day, actually—I slept well last night and work was much better than it’d been yesterday and Tuesday.
First thing on the list: have Rae put her shoes where they belong.
Second thing: ensure her hungry tummy really will enjoy dinner by getting the chicken into a simple marinade.
Third thing: write a polite response to Landon’s note.
Yeah, yeah, he’s not supposed to be important. But while I was marking off the other things on my to-do list, I kept thinking I ought to saysomethingback to him.
When I’m done writing, I look over what I’ve got:
Landon,
Thank you very much for your kind note. Rae and I did have a good day today. We hope you did, too.
Liv-Andria
Perfect.
Rae is in the bathroom now, so I tell her through the door that I’m going to step into the hall for ten seconds. Then I run the note and a fresh piece of tape down to the door at the very end of the hallway.
Once I’m back home, I feel even better than before. I rub my hands together in accomplishment, thinking Landon was on to something with his gesture; surprising people with cheerful messages feels good.
I just might have learned something from him other than how to successfully perform the Heimlich maneuver.
“All right, Rae,” I call as I flop down on the couch. “Ready to get this homework out of the way?”
In the bathroom, the toilet flushes. The water runs in the sink for several seconds, and then the door opens.
“Ummmm,” I hear her say with a giggle, “I don’thaveany homework….” She comes into view from around the corner, trying her hardest not to grin.
I bust out laughing. “What? Whatever! Nice try!”
