“I have to be at the track at 8 sharp for my last training session. Games are this weekend, after all.” She nodded, turningthe bacon in the pan. There was at least a pound of bacon being fried, and I found myself hoping that some of that was for me.
“Want some of this? I couldn’t find any Tupperware here to save it in the fridge, so I just made the whole package.” I smirked at the thought of her looking through my cabinets to find Tupperware. I was sure she was extremely disappointed to see that I barely had the serving ware for two. Though I had a company that helped furnish this home, I didn’t see a need for an extravagant number ofthings.Nope, nothing extra. Just the essentials.
“Sure,” I said nonchalantly, but was thrilled. The oatmeal I made last night would still serve me as an extra kick on my way to the track, but this protein would help me out better. The toaster popped, revealing two slices of thick and crusty sourdough bread:my favorite.I watched as Presley sliced an heirloom tomato up, topping each piece of bread and following it with the bacon.
“Just give me two minutes for the eggs.” I watched as she cracked colorful farm eggs over the cast iron skillet, expertly flipping them each after a moment. They popped and sizzled as I made a fresh brew of pour-over coffee.
“Would you like a cup?” My offer was slight in comparison to the feast she was preparing. She nodded.
“Sure. I like mine with heavy cream. I have some in your fridge.” She smiled, beaming her bright white teeth. I opened the fridge and found it full of colorful vegetables and all sorts of extravagant items. The cream was sitting on the top shelf; it was from a small, local farm and the label read “Organic” and “Certified Humanely Treated.” Having grown up on a Wyoming ranch myself, I like that she shopped locally and cared about the origins of her food. What was I doing? Admiring the food this stranger in my home shopped for?Ford, get your head in the game.
After pouring her coffee, I set her mug and the creamer on the table. She plated the food, topping the delicious-looking toasts with the fried eggs. Instead of having mine at the table, I graciously accepted the plate, and I ate it standing up, hovering over the sink. Her eyes darted to the table and if I could hear her thoughts, I’d bank on her wondering why I wasn’t going to sit down. But despite having plenty of time this morning, I also had plenty of reservations about this situation, this woman, and now, this little dog who was looking up at me intently while I ate, hoping I’d drop a bite.
As I looked down at the furry creature, who today was wearing a blue sweater with a matching bow on her head- around a little ponytail at that, I couldn’t help but notice she was getting impatient. It seemed the littleprincesswas used to getting table scraps and treats. I didn’t know which of these foods were safe, so when my last bite consisted of a small leftover piece of bread, half the size of my thumb, I let it drop. She caught it in her mouth like the little hunter-gatherer that she was inside under all the clothes. The boots. The hairdo.
Dogs were meant to be wild. I had always taken this into account when I raised them and with my last dog. . . before Poppy took him with her. He was still not a looming giant, but Australian Shepherds are a respectable size. Let’s just say he could fend for himself if he got outside unsupervised for a moment. This little creature, on the other hand; I didn’t think she could survive at a pet store without help.
Once she devoured the bite of bread, she gave me a little wag. I took it as her way of thanking me. She immediately went to my pair of boots that were sitting by the front door and sat on them, toppling them over in the process.
As I put my plate in the dishwasher and thanked Presley for preparing it, I walked over to her dog, who washolding onto my boots for ransom. She was probably going to require another piece of bread.
“What’s going on here?” I whispered to her, putting my hands on my waist. I had to admit her personality was entertaining. Presley jumped up into action, once again, as if her dog was going to get them thrown out into the cold.
“Oh, Priscilla. Come here, sweetie. He needs those boots.” She scooped up her dog and went back to the table where she was cleaning up the leftover crumbs. As I sat on the bench to put on my boots, I found myself having a hard time mentally preparing for the day with them around.
“Have a great training day,” Presley said, as she finished wiping down the counters after cooking. She really was trying to be a good guest.
“Thanks. And thank you for, uh, cleaning up.” Presley nodded. My words were weak, as if my coffee never hit my bloodstream. I considered having one more cup before I left, as I knew I still had time to do so, but something was telling me to leave. Get away from the chalet. Away from this woman.
I walked outside without another word. Out in the cold, I realized I forgot my gloves. What a ridiculous mistake. I looked at my hands. I had always had thick skin—literally, notfiguratively, much to my own chagrin—and I had trained before without gloves. But this close to the games, risking tearing up my hands on a rough rope? That would be a really stupid thing to do. Ugh, was I really considering going without GLOVES so that I could avoid more time with my house guest? What was happening to me?
Turning back to the door of my own home, I paused.Should I knock?Then, it dawned on me: This woman didn’t have a keyorthe code to my chalet. If she got back before I did—which was very likely, as training could turn into an all-day affair once I got into caring for my animals—she would be out in the cold once again. The door opened while I contemplated life’s biggest questions, and Presley was surprised to see me on the porch. She was wearing her ski helmet, goggles on top, and had her ski boots on. Her skis must have still been outside of her chalet next door.
“What’s up?” she asked, her eyebrows closing in on each other with her squint. The snow was gently falling around us, and the dull light made it hard to see.
“I forgot to give you the door code.” Presley looked relieved.
“Oh, of course. Thank you,” she said, and looked at me expectantly.
“Yep.” I stood there, thinking about how my gloves were just on the other side of the door. Along with that cup of coffee, my oatmeal that I was going to have for a snack, and her little dog that I felt could see right through the facade that was me holding this all together.
“Well? What is it?” Presley couldn’t hide her impatience, but she did a great job trying.
“Oh, sorry. It’s zero, three, zero, one.” She repeated it a few times.
“Great. I got it memorized. What is that, your birthday or something?”
“Good guess,” I nodded.
“Nice. That’s coming up fast! Happy birthday.” She playfully punched me in the shoulder.
“I’m not really into birthdays. Or holidays,” I said, shrugging it off. Presley just nodded.
“Honestly, I feel the same way. They can be so hard. Especially when you’re single.” We stood in silence for a moment. “Well, have a great one! I want to catch the first chair.” And she was off. She was mighty speedy, despite her clunky skiboots as she snatched up her skis, brushed the snow off of them, threw them over her shoulder, and disappeared into the busy street of skiers ahead.
Going back inside, I shut the door behind me and took a deep breath. The dog was excited to see me and acted like I’d been gone for hours as she hopped around me, wanting to be picked up. For a moment, I must have forgotten what I was doing or all of those walls I had tightly built around my heart because I fulfilled the wish of Presley’s dog and scooped her up like a football. She excitedly panted, wriggling around in my arms, trying to climb up towards my face. I held her in the crook of my arm while I made the extra cup of coffee, pouring it into a traveler cup. I found my gloves and shoved them into my jacket pocket that hung near the door. Apparently, I had forgotten that, too. And lastly, I grabbed the oatmeal out of the fridge and gave the container a shake.
As I leaned to set the dog down, she let out what I would call a combination of a bark and a groan. It was like she was threatening me if I did so. I couldn’t help but laugh.
