Romeo
“Hi, who are you?”
“Weaver,” Weaver answered. “Who are you?”
“Ummm,” Mable hesitated. “Hold on. I have it around here somewhere…”
I could hear the amusement in Weaver’s voice as he said, “Take your time.”
“Thanks,” Mable chirped. “I love when men are patient.”
“She reacts kind of strongly,” Cody said once we got out into the open air. “She’ll need to be watched closely…are you okay with doing that?”
“What happens if I don’t watch her closely?”
“The last time this happened, she ended up almost getting frostbite because she walked out into the snow barefoot and didn’t take any clothes, boots, or protection. We had to send out a search party in my dad’s neighborhood. We found her sleeping in a doghouse with a dog.”
“Smart cookie,” I said as we walked toward my truck. “She’s not suicidal or anything, is she?”
“Not suicidal, no. But she’s crazy. She’ll do things that she shouldn’t. Say things that are way inappropriate. And when she’s done offending the whole entire world, she’ll pass out and forget everything that happened.”
“I think I can handle it,” I said. “Can you give your number to Weaver to share with me?”
Cody said something under her breath I didn’t catch, but slowed so that she could talk to Weaver.
Weaver murmured something quietly.
“They all hate me,” Mable grumbled.
“Who does?” I asked.
“Everyone everywhere,” she muttered.
It was then that I realized she was crying.
How did I realize that? Because she lifted my shirt up and wiped her damp face along the bare skin of my back.
The freezing cold temperature made her hot tears all but freeze in an instant.
“No one hates you,” I said as I paused at the passenger door to my truck.
Her fingers clenched in my shirt, causing the fabric to go taut across my chest.
“Everyone does!” she wailed.
Cody came back to my side and opened the door as she said, “She gets like this. She’s a very depressive Benadryl junky. She’ll cry for the next several hours, I’m sure. But don’t worry, she won’t remember any of this. If you lie and tell her she just slept, she’ll probably believe you. That’s what I sometimes do.”
I gently placed her in the passenger seat of my truck and buckled her in.
“You’ll need to get your chains on before you leave if you’re heading out of town,” Cody mused.
I looked down at the snow chains that were on the floorboard with Mable’s feet resting on top of them and said, “That was my plan, actually. Being outside of town sounded like a great idea until I realized I had to deal with snow.”
“You’re not from here?” she asked.
“Texas,” I said. “But I’ve driven in snow before. My grandparents lived in Idaho before they retired to Texas. We spent most of our winter break up there.”
“Good.” She paused. “Make sure that she doesn’t freak out and reach for the wheel. It’s best to lock the seat belt.”
