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By the time the water shut off, we were back outside. I settled in on the couch with my guitar and a mug of Kona coffee, and the chicken jumped up beside me. “I’m glad you’re here,” I told her, “even though I don’t approve of Harper’s half-baked smuggling operation. You’re good company.” Loco’s response was to peck at one of the leaves printed on the floral couch cushion.
After tuning my guitar, I started to play a song I’d written when I was seventeen. I liked it because it reminded me of a simpler time, when Dallas and I believed in miracles and the whole world seemed full of possibilities. There was always something soothing about traveling that well-worn path.
My peace and tranquility only lasted about two minutes though, because Harper found some kind of sound system and began blasting AC/DC. All the windows and doors were closed, but that did little to deaden the sound.
I swore vividly and looked over my shoulder. He was dancing around the living room dressed in just a pair of basketball shorts, and he was using the tequila bottle as a pretend microphone and singing along to ‘Thunderstruck’ at the top of his lungs.
There was absolutely no way to play my music while that was going on, so I returned my guitar to its case, then fished through my messenger bag and found a pair of earplugs. While I was shoving them in place, Harper climbed up onto the back of one of the couches, then added super inaccurate air guitar to his one-man concert. He balanced there for a minute before falling off in a cascade of tequila. I waited to see if he was okay, and a moment later he popped up, took a long swig from the bottle, and went back to his ridiculous air guitar extravaganza.
I tried to go back to reading, but the earplugs only reduced the volume instead of blocking the music entirely. After a few minutes, I hit my limit and leapt to my feet. This alarmed the chicken, who’d been sitting beside me, and she squawked and flapped her wings as I marched to the back door and threw it open.
When I yelled at him to turn down the music, Harper said, “Huh?”
“I said, turn the fucking music down!”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t hear myself think!” A moment later, the whole house went dark and fell silent, and I yelled, “Ha!”
As I took out the earplugs, Harper asked, “What did you do?”
“Nothing. You probably tripped a circuit, and I’m fucking delighted because it’s finally quiet.” It was also really, really dark. I heard Harper crash into something and cuss, and I asked, “Are you okay?”
“Fine, and more importantly, so is the tequila.”
I heard clucking somewhere beside me, and a moment later Loco bumped into my leg. I picked her up and moved her to higher ground as I said, “Don’t sit on the chicken. She’s on the bench that’s against the back wall.”
“Do you have your phone so we can use it as a flashlight?”
“It’s on the kitchen counter.”
“I think that might be where I left mine, too.”
I closed the back door on the way by so the chicken wouldn’t wander off, then slowly and carefully felt my way around the edge of the room. Meanwhile, Harper bumped into another piece of furniture and muttered, “Ow! Fuck. How is it this dark? I can’t see my hand in front of my face. Literally. I’m holding it up right now, and I don’t see a thing.”
He crashed into another piece of furniture and swore again, and I said, “Be careful, and put down the tequila. You’ll really be screwed if you drop it and step on broken glass.”
“Fine, I put it down.”
When he repeated the crashing and swearing process a third time, I exclaimed, “For fuck’s sake, Harper, just sit down wherever you are and wait one minute while I get the phone!”
“I’m almost there. I just found the refrigerator.”
A moment later, my right hand grazed the edge of the stone countertop. Then Harper bumped into me. I expected him to take a step back, but instead, he leaned into me and I turned to face him. He felt his way up my body, and then he cupped my face between his palms while I slid my hands over his bare chest.
I grabbed him and pulled him close as he pinned me against the counter. In the next instant, we were kissing wildly. After a minute or two, he nuzzled my cheek and whispered, “Damn it, Phee, why’d you break up with me?”
The truth spilled from me. “I got scared. It’s terrifying to want you like I do, while feeling like at any moment you might leave me for someone better.”
“There’s no one better for me than you, Phee. Don’t you know that?”
