Marissa: Wait, that wasn’t what I meant.
Scott: So, you don’t like to see me with my shirt off then? Was it that bad?
Marissa: No, it was great . . .
Ugh. Not helping.
Marissa: New idea— let’s change the subject . . . NOW!!
Scott: About my shirt . . .
Marissa: Ugh! Whatever, I’ll see you at work.
I set my phone on the side table as it vibrated with a response. I wouldn’t look at it. If I looked at it, I would have to answer. It was best not to look.
I stood up and went to my dresser and I did not look at my phone while I got dressed for the day. Then I brushed my teeth, not thinking about Scott or what he had said. I tied my shoes, not thinking about Scott.
Ugh. This was worse than reading it. If I read it, I could get it out of my system. I rushed back to my bed, sat down, and opened my phone.
Scott: See you at work.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
Which was perfect. Friendly, no talk about missing shirts. Exactly what I wanted. Right? Why did I feel disappointed?
I lay back on my bed and closed my eyes. Something clanged outside my bedroom window. Was the apple tree hitting the siding again? I didn’t think it was windy. I sat up and looked out my bedroom window. The leaves weren’t blowing, but now sounds were coming from the roof.
Crap!
I rushed to the window. The ladder was leaning against the house, and, to my horror, Nan’s pink slippers were in line with the top of my window.
Crap!
Nan was on the ladder! I bolted for the front door. The last thing I needed was for her to take a fall from that height. When I rounded the corner of the house, there she stood on the top steps of the ladder, waving a hammer in the air.
“Nan!” I rushed and steadied the ladder.
Nan screamed, and the hammer launched into the air, falling to the ground a few feet from me. She clutched her heart as her fuzzy bathrobe flapped around her.
“Darn nabbit, Mar! What in heaven’s name are you doing rushing up behind an old lady on a ladder? You very well could’ve given me a heart attack!”
“I think you already gave me one.” The pounding in my chest was on rapid fire. “Please come down.”
“Not yet. I need to fix these shingles.”
“I’ll fix all the shingles tonight, I promise.”
“It’s not a problem . . .”
“Nan,please. . .”
She huffed as she straightened her robe. “Oh fine, but I can handle it, you know.”
I pulled into the parking lot, put my head on the headrest, and closed my eyes. This had been a doozy of a morning. I checked my rearview mirror, making sure that the ladder was, in fact, compressed down and folded into the back seat. Stinking Nan, she never even told me about that section of shingles. I rubbed the crease on my forehead, hoping to ease the panic that had been racing through my veins all morning.
First, I slept terribly, then I told Scott that I like him without his shirt on, and then Nan on a ladder. Was eight A.M. too early to beg for a do-over, or at the very least, a sprinkled sugar cookie?
A small knock sounded on my driver’s-side window, jump-starting my heart again. I looked out to see Scott’s worried expression. His glance bounced between me and the ladder in my backseat. I shooed him away and pushed hard to open my door. It didn’t budge. I leaned into it this time, causing it to spring loose and barrel off toward the passenger-side door of his car. I swore and flinched as Scott used his body as a human shield against the hurtling metal.
