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Sure, we’re sitting here catching up, but we’re not going to be best friends again like we were back in college.
We’re adults now, with complex lives. And like she said, her stay is longer than usual, but still temporary.
She presses her nose down toward the classified pages. “Do you think ‘rustic charm’ means attractive exposed beams on the ceiling, or dangerously out-of-date cast-iron radiator heating?”
I bend forward to peer at the ad she’s looking at. I know the place. “That’s Dotty Hookey’s place. In this case, you can translate ‘rustic charm’ to ‘neglected hunting cabin.’”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
An idea hits me, and I glance sideways at Maddison. “You know… I might know a place for you.”
Is it a good idea?
Probably not.
Being neighbors with Maddison will only remind me of the big hole she left in my life, when she stopped texting and calling me all those years ago. A hole where a best friend should’ve been, but never was again.
“Yeah? Are you going to tell me, or make me wait with bated breath while you practice your deep-thinking look for a few more eons?”
“My neighbor. Pansy. She’s into astrology.”
“Okay…”
“And she’s having some sort of midlife crisis, and according to her, or her chart, or whatever, the best place for her to navigate the shift is an island. She started packing her things yesterday, and this morning she booked her plane tickets to Costa Rica. The flight out is tomorrow evening, and she won’t return for two months.”
Maddison adjusts her glasses and peers at me. “You’re saying…?”
“The problem is, she has a dog. She can’t take him with her to whatever retreat center she’s going to, so she’s getting ready to board him. But I know she’d rather have a live-in sitter.”
“And you think—you think… me?”
I nod. “I bet she’d say yes. Her house is nice. Lots of knickknacks around, but for the most part clean and?—”
“Yes!” Maddison claps. “Yes, yes, yes! Yes, to the dog, and the big house, and two months, and the knickknacks.” She grips my arm. “Will you ask her?”
I’m already yanking my phone from my pocket. A minute later, I’ve sent off the text. Five minutes after that, Pansy replies with an emoji-filled response expressing her gratitude that I found her a pet-sitterandhouse-sitter in one, on short notice.
It’s the “pet-sitting” part that worries me.
“Pansy’s dog is a bit of a handful,” I tell Maddison, as we both pay our tabs and gather our things. She’s due to meet Roxie, and I’ve had my fill of bar time, too.
It’s still relatively light out, and if I leave now I can work on sanding the porch banister for an hour or two while the evening sky’s still nice.
“A handful’s fine,” she says as we reach the door. “I mean, my hands aren’t busy writing these days, so might as well have ’em full with a dog. I’ll be okay.”
She steps in toward me, and for a split second, I feel panic. A memory of our kiss surfaces and eats at me all over again. But she holds her arms out and I wrap her in a hug. We embrace for a few seconds too long, like we did back in the treatment room.
When we part, she looks me right in the eye. “Thanks, Nick. I owe you one.”
“If you’re still saying that after you meet Outlaw, we can work something out.”
“Outlaw? Seriously?”
“You’ll get it when you meet him. Then we can get square on the favor thing, if you’re not running for the hills.”
“Sounds fair enough…neighbor.” She smiles again, then spots Roxie, waves, and walks off.
I stand there for a minute, watching her tuck herself into Roxie’s little sedan. It’s an odd, nostalgic sensation, to see Maddison’s dark hair and faded jeans and high-top sneakers. Like she hasn’t changed, really. Like she could be on campus at VUSC, standing in line at the cafeteria, waiting to be handed a slice of pizza.
