“Oh, is it Randy?” he asked, excited. Darting over to the window that’d been uncovered when I very first arrived, he peered out. “Hi, Randy!”
SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH
“Who the fuck is Randy?” I asked, tromping over to join him.
“The raccoon!”
And there it was, in the flesh. Fat as it could be, the furry little creature squatted on its haunches in front of the window, chattering excitedly.
Itneversounded like that with me.
With its black mask, beady little eyes, and striped tail wrapped around its middle, the little shit waved its tiny hands out, whiskers twitching as if in hello.
The railing wobbled precariously beneath its weight.
“You named the raccoonRandy?”
It stopped chattering and hissed at me.
Charlie glared. “Do you have a problem with that name?”
I blinked at him. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”
He reached for the window latch. “Not even a little bit. Now move, she wants inside.”
I grabbed his hand and pulled it away. “Absolutely not!”
He glared at me again. “She gets cold at night. She used to live in the old mattress before they came and replaced everything. I couldn’t get the window open when they left and have been worried sick about her ever since.”
I gaped at him, at a loss for words.
Charlie yanked his hand out of mine and undid the window latch, cranking it open. “Come on, girl,” he cooed, reaching his hand out. “I bet you’ve been so cold and hungry out there all on your own. I’ll cut you up a hot dog, how’s that sound?”
“Doesn’t look like she’s been hungry,” I grumbled.
The raccoon hissed at me again and scurried farther down the railing.
“Don’t be mean,” Charlie scolded.
Despite his coaxing, five minutes passed, and he hadn’t cajoled her any closer. “She doesn’t like you,” he huffed, hands on his hips.
“Would you likemeto sleep on the deck, instead?”
He peered up at me as if debating it, before he sighed. “I suppose not.”
“Yousupposenot?” I asked, offended. “You’d rather live withherthan me?”
He smirked. “Spot the difference.”
I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. “How do you know it's a she?” I asked when I could breathe again, wiping my eyes. I hadn’t been light-headed from laughing in… Months? Longer?
“She brought her babies here a few years ago,” Charlie said fondly, as if reminiscing. When I looked over at him, though, he was staring at me.
I heaved a defeated sigh. “We’ll put a cut-up hot dog out for her tonight. Butonlyfor tonight. Will that make you happy?”
Charlie’s eyes twinkled. “Yes. It would.”
And that was how I became a beaded-curtain-believing man who fed a raccoon named Randy.
