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“No worries. Like I said, Pansy should’ve told you. Or I should have. I’ve gotten to know his routines, and I can’t believe I didn’t warn you about his habit of midnight roving. Hope you weren’t out here looking for him for too long.”
“I only had a minor panic attack.” I look down at the sleepy pup at the end of the slack leash. “You are gonna give me gray hairs, mister.”
Nick chuckles. “Pansy tells him the same thing.”
“He looks so docile right now.”
“Everyone does right when they wake up, right? You’re looking pretty docile yourself. Is that Minnie Mouse?”
I stop hugging myself and check the front of my T-shirt. At the same time that I register the graphic, I note with a twinge of embarrassment that I’ve clearly just rolled out of bed.
Big T-shirt.
Crazy messy hair.
My pin-striped cotton pajama pants kiss the tops of my bare feet.
I cringe as I tuck my loose hair behind my ear. “Um… yes? And now you know that when I shop for my pajamas, I do so with an eye out for nostalgic cartoon characters. My other favorite sleep shirt has Scooby-Doo on it. Third up is Betty Boop, with her big eyes and that whoopty-doo hair of hers.”
“I’ve always liked your style, Bradshaw.”
“Did you ditch your Kermits?”
“I had to. Bedroom slippers that are worn around a dorm room have a one-year lifetime limit, and even that’s stretching it. We’re talking sanitation reasons.”
“Ever health conscious. Poor Kermit.”
“Those slippers lived a good life and went out with honor.”
“May even be decomposing in the Stillwell landfill as we speak. We could pay a tribute if we face Dump Road. What’s that, west?” I spin to face away from the sun and give a mock-salute.
“Is the salute a family thing or something?”
“Genetic, definitely.”
“I must not have the gene. I’ve never tossed one out myself.”
“Give it a whirl. You’ll be hooked.”
He turns to face west and salutes the poplar tree landscape that separates the two of us from the western side of town, and Dump Road, out beyond the sprawl.
“Hm. I like it,” he says. “But I’m having a strange sensation… sadness… for a pair of slippers. Did you just trick me into imagining my bedroom slippers were living beings, and I should mourn their decay?”
“It’s my superpower. This morning I imagined the washing machine was giving me a disapproving stare.”
“Well, keep that hocus-pocus to yourself. Those of us in the science community won’t stand for it. Shoot—speaking of a jury of my peers, I’m about to be late to work. Merriweather would love to give me a hard time about that.”
“Don’t let that elderly guy intimidate you. He brushes his teeth one too few times a day, like everyone else.”
“If I could leave a legacy on this Earth, it might just be to change that daily habit. Three times, people! Brush three times!”
Now I laugh for real. “That’sthe legacy you want to leave?”
He laughs, too, rocking back on his heels with his hands in his scrub pockets. I love the way his Adam’s apple dips and rises with the hearty laugh… and how low and rumbly the sound is. When did his voice get so deep, anyway?
“I guess maybe I’m aiming too low.”
“Way too low,” I tell him.
