“It was a spider, okay? But it’s not justanyspider, it’s a giant hairy beast.”
I start to chuckle. Then the chuckle turns into a full belly laugh. She scowls at me, and the expression does absolutely nothing to help. I have to lean back on the arm of the sofa to brace myself.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe through fits of laughter. Then I do something neither of us expects—I reach out and pull Winnie into a hug. At first she’s stiff, and I almost pull back and apologize, but then she softens and wraps her arms around my middle, resting her head against my chest—and I’m doomed.
“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you,” I say once I’ve managed some control. “The whole way here I was picturing robbers, or that you’d fallen off a ladder, or that you were drowning in the lake. And you weren’t even here—just your phone.” We’d found her through location tracking on her phone. She turned it on when we started the group chat. I don’t know why—maybe it was automatic and she didn’t even know—but I’m grateful for it today. “So something like a spider… I’m glad it’s something easy I can fix.”
“I have arachnophobia. It’s a real thing. Spiders are my nemesis.” Her voice is muffled in my chest, and I love the warmth it leaves there.
“Okay, well. Let’s go see your nemesis. Where is it?” Deputy pads behind us as she leads me to her small half bathroom.
I take it back. The spider is horrifying.
“Why the hell is it that big and hairy?” I ask. “Is it a tarantula? Did someone lose their pet tarantula?”
This timeshegiggles, and it does backflips in my chest. I want her to do that as often as possible.
“No, it’s a wolf spider,” she says. “Super common in the area.”
It’s sitting on the wall of her half-bathroom, just above the toilet. I look around at the cramped space. The guts this is going to cause… a simple piece of toilet paper isn’t going to cut it. I take off my shoe.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
I look from the shoe to the spider very pointedly.
“No.”
“No?” I repeat, flummoxed. “Would you like me to seal off the bathroom instead? Let him have it?” She actually seems to consider it for a moment.
“No, of course not. But you can’t kill it,” she insists.
“The laws of physics and nature say I very much can,” I reply, raising my shoe.
“No!” Winnie grabs my arm. She’s practically dangling from it. I have to hold in another chuckle. This woman is adorable and slightly ridiculous. “It doesn’t deserve to die just because I can’t stand its existence in my home.”
I sigh and lower my arm. “What do you expect me to do then?”
“Trap it in something and put it outside.”
“Put it outside?” This cannot be a real suggestion.
“Gently,” she affirms.
“I can’t do that. Look at that thing.” I point. The spider twitches, and we both flinch.
“The laws of nature and physics sayyouvery much can,” she says, throwing my words back at me.
I glower at her before storming into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Finding something to capture it with.”
“Without harming it,” she reminds me.
I sigh. “Without harming it,” I agree.
One cup and a piece of paper later, we’re standing in the bathroom again.
