Page 8 of Loved By Tandy

After washing my hands, I go outside and get the marker board. “To help with our communication, I got us this. What do you think?” I hold out the marker, so that she can write an answer.

She swipes it out of my hand and scrawls out one word.Seriously?

“I’m trying to make life as easy as possible for you. Now I’m going to get to work on the flooring in your bedroom.” I lean the marker board against the wall. “I’ll set the other marker right here in the tray in case you decide you want to write in a different color. Variety and all that.”

It takes several trips to get all the flooring inside. As I carry the last box into the room, I laugh at what Tandy’s written on the board.

Don’t hurt yourself.

She’s closed herself into the room where she’s confining the cats.

So I holler, “Good advice. And thanks. It’s nice to know that you’re worried about me.”

She slips out of the room, wipes off the board, and writes a response:Not worried. I just don’t want to deal with insurance if there are injuries on my property.

“You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” I ease the box onto the floor and open it up.

This should keep me busy for the next few hours.

I standand open another box. Before getting back down on the floor, I walk over what I’ve laid, making sure it all looks good.

The front door closes, and I peek out the front window as Tandy backs out of the driveway. She trusts me enough to leave me in her house alone. That’s good news.

I get back to work, laying more floorboards.

A rap on the doorframe startles me, and I jump.

Laughing, Tandy holds up the marker board with a message.Lunch is on the table.

“You sure know how to sneak up on a man. I didn’t even hear you come in.” I stand and stretch. “And you didn’t have to get me lunch.”

She shrugs and carries the board with her as she walks away.

Tandy has always cared about people. Years ago, her dream was to become a therapist. And because of that, I used to call her Lucy sometimes when it was just the two of us. Because of the Peanuts cartoon. I wonder if Tandy followed her dream.

Plates of barbecue are on the table, and there is a new message on the board.Wash your hands.

“You’ll need to keep that marker handy because I have some questions to ask over lunch.” This is almost as good as an actual conversation.

She’s seated when I return to the dining room.

“When we were in high school, you wanted to be a therapist. Is that what you ended up doing?”

She sets her fork down and scribbles out two words.Sort of.

“I can picture you behind a little wooden booth, giving advice for a nickel.”

She writes:My advice is worth more than that.

“Are you ever going to speak to me?”

Below the other sentence, she adds:Maybe.

“You eat. I’m sorry for interrupting your meal.”

Tandy sets down the marker and picks up her fork. Her answers have me even more curious about what she did with her life. When we dated, I always figured she’d leave this small town after she graduated. But I hate the way things ended between us.

At some point, I want to discuss what happened, but not until we’re both talking. That is not a conversation to be had with a marker board.

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