“Heya, Whiska,” I say gently. “Want to hear a story?”
My wine and I sit down. Within minutes of my reading a book called The Little Mouse, the Red Ripe Strawberry, and the Big Hungry Bear, I swear he calms down a bit. I set up my camera because I have to capture my kitty’s reaction for the next book tosee if this was a fluke or not. I try a charming book calledTrashy Town, about a garbage collector, and my Whiska loves it.
Then I find a hilarious book titledNo, David!—a story about a very busy and mischievous toddler and his frustrated parent. The best page is of a naked David running down the road. But it ends with a bigI love youtheme. I’msoholding on to this to show my David. Er, well, notmyDavid. The David I know.
What’s meaningful is that my Top Cat Hargitay actually looks at the pictures, responds to my words, and happily flicks his tail. Cats usually thump their tails when they’re pissy, as far as I know, but he’s relaxing, softening his eyes, and burying his head into his paws. Those are for sure happy wags, and then he’s out like a light.
After I post about this slight success, I curl into the magical bed, marginally less miserable than I’ve been.
So much of social media is utter crap, with mean trolls trying to ruin everything, but I fall asleep to such wonderful comments. People love my rude cat and his now-positive response to being read to. They sympathize with my broken hand and send all the love and stories about how I am not alone in losing a friend.
My phone dings with a text from Dave.
Dave:You okay?
Dave:Okay if I stop by tomorrow night? Make you dinner.
What? Am I gonna say no? There are not enough pillows to flop over my head after I reply, saying that’d be cool.
Chapter 12
Although I rouse myself enough to feed the cat in the morning, I have no problem getting back into bed for the entire next day. It’s just impossible to come up with any reason why I want to stay awake. So, I blissfully mold myself again into the mattress and envelop myself in darkness.
When I wake again, it’s to an afternoon sky. I remember the beautiful view that I should see from the deck, so I literally force myself out of bed and think Dave would be proud of me for thinking of and using the wordliterallyproperly. Because it’s a true push with my sound arm to get myself upright. I even change into new pajamas. A weird pink cotton set with sushi images that fits over my cast.
Without even looking at him, I leave Whiska food. The hateful cat that I love.
There’s really no reason to be awake, so I get back into bed and half sleep for hours. It’s cozy and comfy here in my haze. So much for pretending to get up for the day.
After I wake and feel pathetic enough, I force myself to leave my cave. I grab a Smart Water and move out to the deck to catch the sunset and do my best to relax. But no matter how much I try, my stupid eyes keep pouring out tears, and I do all the mopping up that I can. I should buy shares of tissues. I almost laugh a bit, because it’s like I’m crying, but I’m also not. Notmaking a sound, and I cannot feel a thing. This leaking is not okay.
When the front door unlocking sounds, I shudder. And freeze.
“Hello? Diana?”
Dave’s footsteps echo throughout as he enters and walks about.
“This new bakery in town is just killer. I also had time to shell these lobsters. Buttered rolls because you haven’t had them, right?” His voice is so cute and happy.
I turn and watch him from the deck and see him set canvas bags on the counters, and I feel so guilty thinking that he may rightfully assume that I’m here hoping to rekindle what we had while on vacation. That would be an obvious assumption. If my world hadn’t imploded, maybe I’d be maybe hoping for that too. But Puerto Rico seems like a million years ago, and I’m probably too broken as fuck to be anything to anyone. To share anything of myself that isn’t crazy.
I start to stand.
“Jesus, sit back down.” He’s clearly shocked to find me in such a state.
Oh, hell. I momentarily forgot how deranged I look. My curly red hair is a frizzy, horrid mess, just barely flopped into a scrunchie on the side of my head, and I’m just a smelly basket case in every way. Not to mention my cast and sling. Maybe I should have shut the slider, as it could have bought me a moment or more before he found me outside, although I’m not sure that I could’ve positioned myself in a less sad way.
But when Dave steps outside and we lock eyes, I finally think about relief. Like, maybe I’ll smile again one day. New Friend Dave is actually just what I needed. But his presence also makes me want to cry. I know I look insane, and I don’t vaguelyresemble the person he met in Puerto Rico. He sits and throws an arm over my shoulders.
I really hate how adorable he is, especially given how bananas I look. “My sushi pajamas are maybe a bit odd,” I blurt out.
“A bit. But also cute,” he says softly. “And I see you broke your arm.”
“Just my wrist. But it seems I did an exceptionally good job of shattering it. Multiple places. Wanna see?” Whether or not he does, I whip out my phone and show him the X-rays and give a vivid description of the breaks. His cringe echoes mine when I first saw them. “I was told it’s a left distal radius fracture and something about an unspecified fracture of the lower end of my left ulna. Whatever the fuck that means.”
“That sounds very painful.”
I nod. “But I’m now complete with metal plates and screws. Yeah, you know that Wonder Woman was my fave, but now the Bionic Woman has to be my new girl. Another cool chick from a show, right? So, this break is pretty killer, right? I really outdid myself.”
