“Okay, I see how this is going to go.” Sanders walks over to a hockey stick positioned against a poster of LeBron James. When was that hung up? I swear with each day that we’re here, this becomes more and more like a man cave.
He brings the hockey stick over to us and says, “Whoever is holding this stick must speak. You can’t transfer it to the next person without speaking. So, Scottie, since you’re practically crawling out of here with every inch you’ve made toward the door, let’s start with you.” He hands her the stick and says, “Why are you mad?”
She takes the stick and answers, “I’m not mad. I just don’t want to be around him.”
Then she tosses the stick in my direction, and I luckily catch it before it nails me in the head. “I don’t want to be around her either.”
I send the hockey stick right back to her, and it hits her in the leg.
“Ouch.” She rubs her thigh.
“Sorry,” I mutter, because I’m not a dick.
Sanders takes the stick and looks between the two of us. “This is not productive. Remember what we talked about? Communication. Do we need to have you sit on Wilder’s lap again?”
Scottie leans forward, snatches the stick from Sanders, and says, “I will tell you right now: I will die before I sit on his lapagain. And if you try to make me, I will scream bloody murder. Not happening.”
I take the hockey stick from her and look Sanders in the eyes. “That’s one thing we can agree on. I refuse to have her sit on my lap. Absolutely refuse. No way in hell is she coming near me.”
She snatches the stick from me and looks me in the eyes. “I never want to sit on your lap ever again actually. I even took a poll with myself, and the results are in: your lap is an abomination. Contaminated. An absolute disgust.”
I snatch the hockey stick right back. “Well, I took a poll with myself too, and those results are in as well. Although you have a nice ass, my legs have come to the realization that they don’t want to support ungrateful women.”
“Ungrateful. Why is she ungrateful?” Sanders asks.
“Ask her.” I stick the hockey stick between us and cross my arms over my chest.
She doesn’t reach for the stick this time though. She turns away, causing Sanders to exhale.
“Listen, if we can’t be civil and have a mature conversation, then there will be consequences.”
“Whatever the consequence is, it can’t be worse than this,” Scottie says.
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” Sanders says.
“Trust me.” Scottie puts her hand up in dismissal. “Nothing is worse than this.”
“What are we doing?” Scottie asks as Sanders finishes paddling the rowboat to the middle of the lake.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I say, arms crossed. “He’s going to leave us stranded in the middle of the lake with no other option than to work together to get back.”
“That’s idiotic. He wouldn’t do that.”
Just then, a Jet Ski comes out of nowhere and pulls up next to us. Sanders hands the driver the paddles to the boat and then climbs out of it and onto the back of the Jet Ski.
“Wait, what are you doing?” Scottie asks, panic in her voice.
Sanders, with his chin lifted high, says, “We spoke about communication and it being the problem in your relationship. Well, here is where you can learn to communicate.”
“You’re just going to leave us here, in the middle of the lake with no paddles?” Scottie asks.
“Good job stating the obvious,” I mutter, only to cause her to snap her attention in my direction.
“You know, I could do without the snarky comments.”
“I could do without the snide glares,” I snap right back.
“I’ve barely looked at you. How could I give you snide glares?”
