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She cackles and shoots me a side glance. “You could always ask your dad.”
I ball my fists. “Are you trying to push my buttons? No. No, I’m not going to rise to that, Mom. All I ask is that you get Justin’s pugs on their leashes and take them for a quick walk at the times I wrote down. It’s all there on the fridge. Mom, are you listening?”
She’s looking at her phone and absently answering, “Yes.”
“Mom!”
I can see that she’s texting someone. “What has got you so distracted?”
She chuckles at something then looks up at me again. “Nothing, never mind. Listen, I’m sorry. I’ll go walk them right now. I’m meeting a pet friend at the park, in fact. So don’t even worry.”
I study her carefully. I sense she’s hiding something, but it doesn’t smell like booze, drugs, or her usual chicanery.
“And now I’m late for work. So I’ve got to go. Just try to keep your shit together for one day, and don’t let my neighbors down. I like living here. And they’ve all agreed to help you.”
Mom cocks her head.
“What do you care if you’re late for work, you own the stupid Ferris wheel.”
I cock my head in imitation of her. “There’s that indomitable work ethic I got from my mother.”
I leave her with firm instructions for the cat injections and pug instructions, written down in sharpie and posted to the fridge, and give her a verbal reminder.
If she can’t even manage to care for my cats and some pretty laid-back pugs next door, how can I recommend her to walk the dogs of any of my other working neighbors?
I wish she understood what was at stake.
As I high-tail it back to my car, I find myself wanting to text Hudson. I don’t, because I know he’s busy, and I feel like I already distract him enough.
Reaching out to Hudson is sort of hard-wired into me. He’s my go-to guy. My north star.
I can take care of things myself, and I can get the Wi-Fi fixed, but having him as a sounding board when I’m frustrated, like right now, is awfully nice.
I never asked him for a thing, but he’s always been that for me.
When Billy Smalls pulled my braid in Kindergarten, and the teacher actually told me it was because he liked me, Hudson wasn’t having it. Even though Hudson was in the third grade, He sat next to me in the cafeteria every day after that. Soon, we began hanging out after school, walking home by way of the creek, where we’d end up at his parents’ mini golf shop. The Greens were just as kind to me as Hudson, offering me free ice cream and rounds of mini-golf whenever I wanted.
Later on, in sixth grade, Billy snapped my bra strap, and Hudson, then a ninth-grader, lost it. He shoved Billy against the locker and forced him to apologize. After that, nobody messed with me.
When my parents started drinking more and more heavily, or maybe that we just noticed how heavily they drank, Hudson’s tolerance for them went out the window. Hudson went through his own rebellious phase in high school, but when he saw the effects on me of my parents’ drinking, he sobered up fast. He became even more protective of me when Mom’s alcoholism started to compel her to steal money from me.
He often credits me with seeing him through his own tough times, but the truth is, he is my rock.
As I drive over to the Ferris wheel, I can’t imagine my life without him.
I think we would both be lost without the other.
When I arrive, I pop out my CD from my car stereo and add it to the Ferris wheel sound system rotation. I’ve got a good mix of new music and some older. After sundown, classic rock love songs are the vibe. One of my favorites is “I’m Gonna Keep on Loving You” by REO Speedwagon. I always smile because Hudson can’t stand hearing that one, or my other favorite, “More than a Feeling” by Boston. What can I say? My fondest memories are of riding in the backseat of my dad’s old raggedy car, listening to classic rock. As much as I resent him taking off when Mom went to rehab, I still have a soft spot.
Before closing, I like to play some lonesome country tunes like “If You Could Feel My Love” by Garth Brooks. Hudson teases me, as he’s a little bit of a music snob and listens to nothing but early 1990s alt rock and grunge. We love to argue when I point out the dearth of nice love songs from that era.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I almost miss it when Tony and Tiny show up.
“Little Lady?”
I snap out of my daydream about Hudson to realize that my absolute favorite customers have arrived.
Tony is the only person in Cherry Falls who is allowed to call me “Little Lady.” I love it because I can see how he cares for the love of his life, Tiny.
