Page 27 of Love Finds Home

“Is she single?”

“She should be, but that’s a subject for another day.”

He flips the page to a drawing of Harper, Trish’s sister. That’s an odd relationship. Like, their dad is there, but wasn’t always there, but Harper and her brothers still live with Trish and Davis. And Harper is the best eleven-year-old I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. She’s been all ‘damn the patriarchy’ for years from what I’ve been told. She’s sitting on the couch at Trish’s home, reading. She’s always reading.

“Who’s this?”

“That’s Harper, the best pre-teen you’ll ever meet in your life. You’d love her.”

He continues to flip through the pages as we go through everyone I’ve met in town down to Miss Mable at the diner, carrying a tray full of coffee cups. Tiny and Lottie are there with my favorite seven-year-old, Nat. Trish with Davis at the bar, the look of love on his face almost tangible as he rubs Trish’s almost there baby bump. Davis behind the bar with his arms crossed and a towel over his shoulder, looking like the ruler of the world. Joker at Zach’s sitting at the bar looking grumpy as usual. His eyes focused on something behind me. Probably Ginny. And then we get to the part of my Boulder Canyon artistic journey that I’ve started calling the ‘Moody, Broody Phase’. There are afew drawings of Barbie at the counter in the shop and at her station, but most of them are not. There’s Ranger in his station, setting up his ink, Ranger sitting behind the desk at the front counter of the shop. Ranger standing in the doorway, Ranger getting on his bike, Ranger sitting in his truck and then leaning against the front end. Ranger with Joker at the bar having a laugh, both of them smiling. Thathadto be captured because the moment was so rare.

Jorge looks up from the last page. “You’ve got yourself a man problem, you know that?”

“There’s just something about him I want to capture.”

“Yeah, his penis.”

“No,” I laugh. “Well, maybe yes, but also no. There’s a pain in his eyes that I’ve only ever seen—”

“When you look in the mirror.”

“Yeah. He’s been hurt. I don’t know who hurt him. I’m guessing it was a woman named Vanessa, but I don’t know how, and I don’t know why, and I don’t know what happened, and—”

“And you want to,” he interrupts me again.

I nod my head slowly. “I think I kind of do.”

“You know I gave him the talk. And you know which one.”

I smile at him. “Did you threaten to rip his balls off, Jorge?”

“Of course I did.”

“God, why?”

“Because that’s what friends do. Good ones, anyway.”

“And you’re the best.”

“One day the two of you will figure your shit out and get your emotions on track.”

“There’s no emotions.”

“Oh, baby girl. You might not want them, but you’ve got them. Both of you.”

“Fuck that,” I gag.

“No, fuck him. Go fuck him. That’s what you want to do.”

I laugh, shaking my head at him. “Can we change the subject now? Please? Want to go try some of Mable’s pie?”

“Is it fruity?”

“Of course it is.”

“Should have led with that.”

We’re laughing as we lock up and head to the diner. I can’t get our conversation out of my head though. And it brings me back to all of my questions. Who hurt him? What caused him to cut people off? Where is his family? And why does he hate me so much?

---