Page 37 of This Means War

“Political landscaping?” I repeat, then set off hurriedly towards the front yard. Tom is still standing on the front porch, looking agitated. At first, I don’t see anything other than a boatload of shrubberies covering the entire 30-foot span of what was once just mulch, but then Tom’s words sink in.

“Vote for Arnold,” Tom is saying. “Did his campaign do this? This is foul play. I’ll have a newsstation here in ten minutes to tell them just what we think of such juvenile behavior.”

“Tom,” I cut him off, raising my hand to silence him, “this wasn’t Arnold’s doing.” Out of the corner of my eye I spot Lydia pursing her lips to keep from laughing. The thing is, I know she thinks this’ll upset me, but, in truth, I just want to laugh too. The woman wrote “Vote 4 Arnold” using flowers. How does she come up with this stuff?

“Not Arnold? Then who?” Tom demands, his fingers poised over his phone screen.

“Tom stole the cookie from the cookie jar,” Lydia sing-songs in response. He doesn’t even crack a smile. Neither do I, but that’s only because I pinched my forearm hard to keep myself from laughing.

“You!” Tom whirls on her. “You did this?”

Lydia cocks her head at him. “If you think it was me, you’re supposed to say, ‘Lydia stole the cookie from the cookie jar.’”

Tom’s face turns a deep red color reminiscent of volcanic lava. “Listen here, Lydia. This is not some silly children’s game! This is real life. I’m trying to run a campaign here. Do you understand how bad it would look if it got out that Cole’s wife was endorsing his competition.”

Lydia just looks amused. “I’m sorry, but who was the one about to call the news stations a minute ago? Honestly, Tom, you’re working yourself up into a tizzy over a practical joke. This was meant for Cole alone to see.” She gives him a sly look. “The fact that you happened to come over and witness it is justicing on the cake.”

Tom’s demeanor doesn’t soften. “This woman is dangerously close to becoming a liability,” he snarls at me. “Can’t you keep her in check?”

“Whoa, there!” Lydia puts her hands on her hips ready to take him to task, but I jump in first.

“Tom, c’mon. You’re way out of line. This is not a big deal. Look.” I grab a discarded spade, then walk over and kneel next to the letter A. In a few swift movements I’ve pulled up the middle bar of flowers, transforming the ‘A’ into an upside down ‘V’. “Problem solved.”

“Vote for Vrnold,” Lydia reads. “Ah yes, your lesser-known Russian opponent.”

“Ridiculous!” Tom throws up his arms.

“Fun,” Lydia counters. There’s that word again. “You two ever heard of it? Anyway,” she adds, “if you can get off your high horse, you’ll realize that I can easily make my letters say Cole instead of Arnold. I’ve already got the o and the l. Plus, with the extra space I can make it say f-o-u-r instead of the number four.” She pauses. “It’ll take me a few days, but say the word and I’ll get started tomorrow.” She smiles with satisfaction.

Tom is still scowling, though. He turns his attention to me. “I’m not in the mood for this sort of flippancy about your campaign, Cole. I was hoping to have a serious discussion with you about our options to counter Arnold’s latest move, but I can see seriousness and decorum have gone out the window. If you want to be cavalier about yourcampaign then so will I.”

“Tom, c’mon,” I plead, the first traces of annoyance with Lydia for doing this now starting to creep in. “I’m ready to get to work. You know I want to win.”

Tom studies me for a minute, then sighs. “I do know you want to win. It’s getting late now anyway, though.” He glances at his watch, “Why don’t we just meet tomorrow morning instead?”

It’s my turn to study him. Technically he works for me, and yet he’s weirdly also in charge of me. He has more experience than me, so I tend to just do what he says. “Yeah, okay.” I nod, feeling slightly defeated. “We’ll meet in the morning.”

Tom nods, then walks away, leaving Lydia and I alone on our front lawn.

“Listen, Cole,” her voice lacks its usual confidence. “That wasn’t supposed to go down like that. I had no idea he’d even be here to see it, let alone react so negatively towards you for something that I did.” She chews her bottom lip, and I feel my annoyance dissipate, replaced by weariness. I don’t want to fight with Lydia.

“Yeah, I know.” I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “Let’s just cover it with the tarps and go back inside.”

Lydia nods and together we parachute the tarps over the flowers. In the kitchen she flits nervously around pushing in the island stools and straightening the towel hanging on the oven. I ignore her as I open the refrigerator and startrummaging around again for something to eat. Still, nothing. My brain is too foggy to even try and put a recipe together. My hand shakes slightly, and I know I’ve waited too long to eat.

“Are you hungry?” Lydia pipes up tentatively.

“Not really, but I know I should eat,” the words slip out without my giving them much thought, but Lydia picks up the hidden meaning.

“Your phone alarm,” she comments, “that day I moved in. It was for you. What are you diabetic?”

I stiffen. “No, nothing as serious as that.”

She studies me, her eyes far more perceptive than I’m comfortable with. “Low blood sugar?”

I don’t say anything, but my face must give it away because she nods. “Well, then let’s feed you.” She hurries to the fridge, reaching past me to pull out a carton of orange juice. “But while I’m cooking, you can have some of my orange juice.” Lydia pours me a glass, then passes it over to me. “Drink up,” she instructs. “The sugar will help.” She stands there, waiting for me to drink, one hand on her hip. Dutifully I take a sip, and she smiles approvingly. “Now sit down,” she goes on, “and I’ll make us some dinner.”

I do as she says, too taken aback to argue. I can’t remember the last time I had someone take care of me like this. I’m not sure how I feel about it. I watch as she rummages through my cabinets, eventually emerging with a large pot and a cutting board. She fills the pot with water and sets it on the stove, before making her way back to the fridge where shepulls open a long thin drawer that I honestly never even realized was in there. She pulls out a colorful array of vegetables including two different types of bell peppers, mushrooms, and some sugar snap peas. Setting them on the counter, she gets to work chopping.

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