Page 11 of Love Hazard

People are people. In the end, we all want a shoulder to cryon, someone to laugh with. Or, at the very least, someone who won’t just standby our side but shove us behind them and say, “I’ve got this.”

God, what would that even feel like?

It was the last thought I had before random knocking filledthe air and I heard the chicken—or wait, rooster? Who the hell had a rooster?And why? Why at this hour? Why? We weren’t in the country. We both had housesby the freaking Columbia River. Did they suddenly release random roosters andchickens to entertain the ducks and fish?

My imagination. Obviously.

I yawned and closed my eyes again.

The rooster sounded.

Again.

I jolted awake and rubbed my blurry eyes, attempting tofocus on the white wall in my room. Suddenly, I heard it to my left. Slowly, Iturned and saw an honest to God rooster in my front yard. “The hell?”

It wouldn’t shut up.

I had no pellet gun, but I wouldn’t lie about it or tomyself. If I had one, I would have been tempted to use it and then cook thething…wait, could you even eat a rooster?

Was that inhumane?

Probably. I did live in Portland, after all. Animals hadrights, and we were within city limits. I’d learned last year when we had wildturkeys roaming and eating people’s gardens that, apparently, it was frownedupon to hunt for Thanksgiving. Who knew? But going to the store…totally fine.

I could deal with the rooster once I had coffee and did ajumping jack or two. Whatever.

I rolled out of bed and put my feet onto the cold hardwood,swearing both pinky toes almost cramped. Going back to bed sounded like thebest idea ever, but I knew Mom would be up—not because of the rooster butbecause mornings had always been her thing. And while my dad was gone, it wasmy job to get her ready, perch her in front of the window to watch life passher by, and fill up her coffee cup. While it sounded depressing, it was actually the highlight of her days.

“Look.” She pointed at the school bus that’d pulled up downthe street. “Leslie’s six now. Wow, she’s gotten so big. And those brownpigtails. Aren’t her pink bows adorable?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I always agreed because, in my world, mymom was right. She was my world, what kept it spinning.

“Oh.” She swatted me weakly. “Did you know that Hazel’sgoing to start working at her dad’s ranch soon? She’s taking over as the mainbookkeeper while she gets her MBA. So wonderful. Aren’t you proud?”

Of sparkle queen? Yeah, maybe. Sort of. “Yup,” I answered.“So proud.”

A knock suddenly sounded at the door.

Mom rested a weak hand on my arm, her small diamond from Dadstill shining under the lights of the room. “Get that, will you?”

“As if I’d let you race me,” I teased, swallowing the lumpin my throat. Her skin was paler today, and I knew I’d been helping with hermeds and getting her to sleep as much as possible. But I needed Dad to comeback. Not because I wanted a break—I would spend every moment with her—it wasjust…I didn’t want to fail.

Failure as soon as she got sick became my kryptonite, notjust in life but also in friendships. The fear of letting people down. Mybiggest insecurity was not being what people expected and falling short.

Her hand dropped, and her head turned to the side as shesighed and fell asleep again. Our morning ritual was done. Now, it was time toget the mail or package or whatever had been delivered.

The floor creaked as I walked over and reached for thebronze door handle. Our house was expensive and in a prestigious part ofPortland, so we didn’t have knobs. Instead, we had this weird giant handle thatmade you feel like you were in a castle and not the suburbs by the river.

I shoved it down and looked out.

A simple brown box sat on the doorstep, and it was addressedto me. I was leery after the rooster had somehow planted itself on ourproperty, but I assumed that was probably Hazel’s weird prank. A rooster.Congrats, it worked.

I shook the box, and my head was all like, “Oh, youknow, just in case it’s a bomb,” not thinking far enough ahead that if it werea bomb, I would be dead.

All men are idiots, apparently.

I even shook it again after that errant thought and thenstarted pulling away the tape, only to open it and see a simple black razorwith a note.

Nobody wants to marry the Beast in real life. They onlytolerate him for the library. Shave that scratchbefore you end up alone. Oh, and even if you had a library…—Garfield-wearing Hazel

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