Page 4 of Decoding Morse

The answer sounded non-committal, even in my own ears, but I was currently too overwhelmed to think about my losing battle against the lawn. I still had dishes to finish, a kitchen to sweep, and laundry to fold. To be real, the laundry would likely end up piled on one side of my bed, allowing me to push the task off to another day because I wanted nothing more than to march upstairs, shower, and engage in a little torturous self-care before falling into bed.

“Morgan, hun, I need you to run the vacuum over the living room before you go to bed.”

“Kay.”

Saturday nights, things sure got wild around here.

A blur of black fur and teeth bolted out of the bathroom to bark at the front door like a vicious attack beast. As if on cue, the door unlocked and burst open. My best friend and roommate charged into the house, shedding her outer layer and hanging it on the coat tree. Multicolored asymmetrical bob bouncing, she toed off some name-brand heels that had likely cost more than my entire shoe collection. Keys landed in the dish on the entry table with a clink. Then, without saying a word to us, Thia turned her attention to the bouncing, barking pup.

“Awww. Did my baby miss me?”

She used the voice reserved solely for her rescued mutt and for men too stupid to listen when she told them she wasn’t interested. Thia was a knockout, and all species and genders fell at her feet, as Bailey did right then, rolling to her back and shamelessly begging for belly scratches.

“Nope, you little pee pot, I am not falling for that again. If you want to see me, come up here and say hi like the badass bitch you are.”

Thia patted her leg, but Bailey continued to twitch on the floor like some broken windup toy. She was more runt-of-the-litter than the badass Thia, always the optimist, was manifesting. It was one of the many things I loved about her.

“Have you been a good girl today?” Thia asked the dog.

“She keeps hiding behind the toilet,” Morgan replied. “We really should trade her in for a normal dog.”

Thia snorted. “Right. Because we’re all about normal around here.”

Morgan pursed her lips together thoughtfully and went back to her tablet.

“I’m so glad you’re home.” I grabbed Thia’s hands, capturing her attention. “Do you know anything about plumbing?”

One expertly lined lip curled up at the question. “No, Amelia. Not all lesbians are home improvement specialists. I mean, look at me.” Perfectly manicured nails stabbed the space inches from my face. “Do these beauties look like they engage in manual labor? Sheesh. Stereotype much?”

I bit back a laugh at her theatrics, knowing full well she’d once been a cowgirl and was no stranger to physical work. My friend had a whole host of skills most people knew nothing about. Her past was painful for her, and she was determined to focus on this new identity, so I didn’t bring it up.

“Not stereotyping, more like wishful thinking,” I said instead. “The downstairs toilet won’t stop running, and if I had a sledgehammer, this would be a different conversation.”

“Did you check the flappy seal thingie? Sometimes, it doesn’t sit right on the hole.”

“Are you propositioning me?” I asked, unable to help myself. “It’s been a long time since anyone has. I can’t tell anymore.”

“In your dreams. I only date useful people, and you don’t even know how to fix a toilet.”

“Ouch. Also, touché.”

Her lips twitched a couple of times before she cracked a smile. “Maybe my next girlfriend will be a plumber.”

“Next girlfriend?”

I tried not to sound too hopeful, but Thia’s current on-and-off-again fling treated Thia like a dirty little secret kept swept under the carpet. She needed to show my friend a little more respect before she found herself rolled up in a rug.

In the back of my car.

And rolled off a bridge into the Puget Sound.

I seldom entertained thoughts of homicidal behavior, but perimenopause had been bringing out my inner rage and eviscerating my patience with ignorant assholes who couldn’t see Thia’s worth. Unfortunately, that seemed to be her type lately. We all grieved in our own ways, and that appeared to be hers.

“Wait. What are you doing home?” I asked. “Don’t you have a date tonight?”

“Jamie’s going to a family thing.” Thia frowned.

“A last-minute family thing she couldn’t invite you to?”

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