Headlamp lighting my way, I raced through the short grass that surrounded the large orange trees in the town square to the iguana that was lying on the ground. I picked it up, wrapped it in a tea towel, then carried it to the large plastic tub that held more blankets and a heating pad. Iguanas were not native to Florida and were designed for perpetually warm climates. During the rare occasions that Dudley Grove experienced a cold snap, the iguanas short-circuited, falling out of the trees like we were in the plague times.
The wind shifted, and I was pelted in the face with freezing rain.
“I will persevere!” I shouted over the raging storm. Three more iguanas were knocked out of a nearby orange tree.
The smallest one went tumbling in the wind, and I raced after it, poncho flailing behind me. I picked it up and fought back through the blowing rain to the plastic tubs.
As my headlamp swung, I saw a man holding a large black umbrella, placing two more iguanas in the tub.
“Kindness buddies!” I yelled. “Thank you for saving an iguana.”
The man straightened up.
“Grayson?” I yelped.
Through the pouring rain, green eyes regarded me. Cautious.
“Don’t you have an umbrella?” he asked me as I approached.
“Ponchos are far superior.”
The wind tugged at the large umbrella in his hand.
I set the iguana in the container.
Grayson pulled the lid over then shifted his umbrella to the other hand.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, searching his eyes for something—love, sorrow, understanding, an apology, an explanation.
But his face was an unreadable corporate mask.
“I came to bring you a note.” He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to me.
He stepped up to me, holding the umbrella over us, and pushed back the hood of my poncho. Heat radiated off of him.
I tried to ignore it as I ran my thumb under the flap of the envelope, breaking the seal. Inside was a thick piece of pink cardstock.
In Grayson’s neat economical handwriting was written,
I’m sorry.
In one corner was a minimalist sketch of a rock in a beret with tears running down its face.
“Aww, is that Crumpet?”
“I take him to the office with me,” Grayson admitted.
“Did Richmond Electric change their pet policy?” I joked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t have your settlement check,” he continued in a rush, “but I’ll make sure you’re given what you need. I treated you horribly, and you were just trying to help. I was rude,ungrateful, and horrible to you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry, Lexi.”
“I’m sorry too,” I said desperately. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so far. My parents love me to a fault. Probably getting into the enabling territory to be honest. Only child, yadda, yadda. So I don’t really understand what it’s like to be you, to have horrible parents.” I waved my hand.
“Also, don’t worry about the settlement check. You saved my apartment building, and that’s a good deed times a hundred. Donate my settlement money to charity if you want.”
“How did you—” He scowled. “Never mind. I can’t just leave you high and dry.”
“One, it’s raining,” I said, pointing up at the sky, “and two, I have a job.”
