I haven’t been called a lady in a long time, so I put on a brave face and carefully make my way across the porch. Before I can get too far, he comes bounding up the steps, impressive for someone of his advanced age. He puts a surprisingly strong arm around me, and I step out of his hold.
“It’s okay, Ed. I’ve got it.”
He looks at me, teetering on my cane, and tilts his head to the side. “You sure about that?”
“Yes. I’m fine,” I bite out.
Ugh. I sound like such a bitch. Whatever. I start heading down the stairs, and I’m proud of myself until the third step when my knee gives out. Thankfully, Ed, who lacks any propriety around personal space, is right there and catches me.
“Whoa, Nellie. Let’s get you into the truck.”
As we approach the truck, I realize it’s lifted a little higher than normal. Groaning, I shove my cane into the foot well and grab the oh-shit bar, attempting to pull myself up. It doesn’t go well, and by the third try, Ed, having seen enough, comes in behind me and pushes up on my butt, shoving me into the front seat.
“There we go!” he says cheerfully.
I start to point out how inappropriate that was, but he’s already putting the truck in gear, whistling a happy tune. Never mind.
In a truly shocking turn of events, Ed is a talker.
“What you in town for?”
“How old are you?”
“Are you from Tennessee?”
“Who’s your family?”
“Jesus, Ed,” I finally snap. “I didn’t realize I’d have to go through the fucking inquisition to get some fucking groceries.”
“Oh. Uh, sorry, Ms. Nash,” he stutters, then goes blissfully quiet for the rest of the trip. Unfortunately, I can’t enjoy the peace and quiet because I’m pretty sure that’s the nastiest thing I’ve ever said to another human being in my life.
Dolly would be so disappointed in me right now.
When we park at the local food mart, Ed hops out, rushing around to my side. Before I can even situate myself, he’s opening the door for me. What follows is a ridiculous set of circumstances I still don’t quite understand.
Unfortunately, I’m leaning on the door when Ed opens it, so I lose my balance. Smacking my forehead on the door, I pitch to the side, falling elbow-first into his crotch. He yelps and jumps back, effectively removing the only support I have. I manage to smack my forehead again before tumbling to the ground, where a helpful half-frozen puddle of muddy slush awaits to catch my fall.
“Shit,” he says, concerned. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”
Rolling over, coating myself in the stuff, I growl. “Absolutely not.”
My cane is still in the truck, so when I try to regain my balance, I slip and fall into the frozen slush again. Mother Jesus. I’m cursing up a blue streak, and by the time he gets to his feet and grabs the cane for me, there’s a small crowd of lesbians on the sidewalk.
“Oh my God, it’s Mackenzie Nash!”
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll see if Kinley’s still here.”
“God, don’t get Kinley,” I say, then immediately hope that didn’t sound too bad. “I mean…I’m fine. Don’t bother her. I know she’s busy.”
Off in the periphery, I spy someone pulling out their phone, so I grit my teeth and stop the tumble of curse words falling from my lips.
“I may have tried to get out and about a bit too soon,” I say, cracking a smile I don’t feel. “I’m going to have my friend Ed here take me back home.”
“How are you enjoying Kinley’s cabin?”
“I heard it’s really nice out there.”
