Page 22 of Stuck With My Christmas Crush

“Got it.” Charlie salutes, then picks up one of the plates with a candle on it. “Good night… Again.”

“Goodnight, Charlie. Sleep well.”

It’s been a while since I’ve thought about Afghanistan. Sometimes the past is almost as clear and real as the present. Sometimes my military experience feels as if it belongs to someone else; as if I’m watching a newsreel on TV or something. Sometimes the sights, sounds, and smells of the Kabul evacuation crowd in on me. The airlift out, on one level, feels like such a waste. I guess I’m still processing what went on there. Of course, our units on the ground only knew what we needed to know. Our job was to carry out orders with efficiency and discipline. To keep people safe. To protect the vulnerable. To do our job. It was only afterward that I got a sense of the bigger picture.

Adjusting to a normal civilian life is tricky to navigate sometimes. I approach each day with a personal assessment of vital statistics, pulse, and heart rate: a monitor of well-being on an app on my wrist. It’s comforting to see that physically everything is A-OK. I get a green check mark on a screen. And somehow it matters. It helps. It means I’m alive. A normal functioning human being. I can relax… a little bit.

I tap the screen on my wrist device and look at Rocko who has rolled onto his back, stretching out to occupy the whole couch. I’m wedged into one corner. His head shovesme further against the armrest as if I’m taking up too much space on my own furniture.

“Alright, boy?” I stroke Rocko’s enormous head.

I much prefer sharing my space with a dog. In fact, I prefer animals over people any day. Life is generally easier. You don’t need to explain yourself. There’s no discussion. I’m free to do my own thing any time I choose. And Rocko, he’s just happy going along with whatever I want.

Then, phew! Rocko has relaxed a little too much in the posterior area and, bam, the smell hits me full in the chest. I cover my nose and mouth and retreat to the kitchen to find a can of air freshener.

Good old Rocko, huh? I wonder if the smell has woken Charlie. I hope not. She might think it’s me with the smelly bowel issue. Not the kind of impression I’d like my guest to have.

My mind drifts to thoughts of Charlie. The way she shivered at the gate. Her makeup streaked down her face. The pathetic inside-out umbrella. Such a sorry state. Something about her reminded me of a baby bird that has fallen out of its nest. I wanted to scoop her up and keep her warm and safe. How could anyone trail so much glitter? I’m still seeing it twinkle everywhere in the candlelight. She’s only been in my house a few hours and I feel as if she has fully taken over.

But somehow, I can’t be annoyed. I want to be, but Charlie looked so adorable swamped in my sweatshirt and track pants. Even without her wings and glitter, she looks like a fairy. If fairies were real, that is. I like her hair. And her cute smile.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about my house guest when I’m searching for air freshener in the kitchen. Would I be having the same thoughts if she was a guy? Lenny, for example.

Eventually, I locate the can of air freshener in a bucket under the sink. I didn’t buy it. Meredith did. She said it was for her and Maddie when they come to visit. I allowed her to put it in my kitchen. But there’s no way I’m ever going to admit to using it.

This thought makes me laugh. I spray the can of floral essence in the air as I wander back into the living room. Then, I hear Charlie shout out. Rocko isn’t on the couch. He isn’t even in the room. I think I can guess what has happened.

Chapter 10

Charlie

The bed is super comfy, although it dips in the middle the way old beds do. I’m snuggled under a heap of blankets still wearing all Jason’s clothes as it’s a good bit colder in the bedroom than the living room.

And Jason. I could tell that he didn’t really want me to stay in his house tonight. But he has a good heart underneath that gruff, tough exterior. He’s not used to sharing. Anything. At all. Ever. He’s used to having his own space without a glittery entertainer messing up the place. But Ithink, as we are stuck together in this predicament, he is resigned to the fact that he just has to put up with me. And I’ll just try and be useful, and not get in his way.

It’s a good thing I have Rocko to cuddle. At least the dog seems to like me.

And so, with thoughts of firelight, my feet all toasty under a big furry dog, and Jason’s handsome face, all brooding and complex, my snooze turns into sleep. My final image is of Jason’s eyes meeting mine in the soft orange glow. They seem to plead,leave me alone, but then, there’s something else that says,I’m not as tough as I make out. Please don’t hurt me. The candlelight showed something sad in his eyes. His tough rugged bone structure was sculpted beautifully in soft amber. When he turned toward me, I could tell there were a million thoughts that wanted to crash out, but he slowly shook his head and looked away. I guess there are some things he can’t let go of yet. At least not with me.

I drift off to sleep to the sounds of the storm outside. I’m so grateful to be here. Safe. Warm. My situation could have been so much worse. I don’t even want to think about that.

I’m not sure how long I slept but suddenly I’m awake. Eyes wide and all my senses on high alert. For a second, I don’t know where I am, and it takes a couple of beatsbefore the drama of the previous day allows me to make sense of my shadowy surroundings. The storm is still thrashing around and whistling about the house. But it’s not these sounds that wake me.

In the darkness, I poke my head over the blankets and peer at the door. Even in the pitch black, I can make out the shape of the doorframe and detect motion as the door slowly swings open. I hold my breath for a moment and listen as footsteps approach the bed. There’s someone in my room, breathing heavily with raspy inhalations.

“Jason?” I call out pretending to be brave. “Is that you?”

I pull the blankets up over my head as if they have the power to shield me from the maleficent presence close to my face. Then, I shake off my bleariness and suddenly remember where I am.

“Rocko. You devil,” I say, laughing at myself and how my imagination had run away in my semi-sleepy befuddled brain.

Rocko’s nose snuffles my face across the pillow. Then I hear him lick his chops before he bounds up, uninvited, onto the bed beside me.

“Well, hello fella. I’m not sure you’re supposed to be in here.” I pat the big dog’s head.

At that moment, there’s a knock on the open bedroom door.

“Oh, sorry about Rocko,” Jason says from the doorway. “He thinks it’s bedtime and, um, this is where he usually sleeps. I hope he didn’t scare you.”

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