Page 153 of Scoring the Player
“Oof. And you lived?”
“He tried to take my head off,” I tell her. “Right up here.” I point to my townhouse up ahead on the right and open my garage through the app on my phone.
“Want to raid my kitchen while I walk Simba?” I ask as we get out of the car.
“Sure, but I wanna come on the walk first.”
“Cool. Come on.”
“I’ve met my soulmate,”Anaïs croons as Simba begins his smooch show.
He ignored me and ran straight to her.
I unhook his leash from the peg.
His ears perk up when he hears the clank of metal, pauses for a second, then resumes rolling to his back and soaking up the belly rubs.
“I don’t exist when we have guests over,” I tell her.
“Like he remembers you exist when Arnaz is around,” she coos to Sim.
I bend down and hook the leash through the metal ring of his collar. “Blue’s never been here.”
Her head pops up. “I thought…Really? Ohh. I messed that up the night when I was sick, didn’t I?”
“It’s all good.” I stroke Sim’s fur. “I’m sorry you were sick. How are you feeling now?”
“Surgery in a few weeks.” She smiles nervously, offering her palm to Simba to slobber on.
“What’s it gonna be like?”
“Doctors always downplay it, you know? You’ve heard of endometriosis?” I shake my head. “It’s an inflammatory disease, and it’s excruciating.”
“Damn.”
“They make a couple of small incisions around my abdomen and then go in with a camera to find and cut out any inflamed or scarred tissue around my organs.”
“God. That sounds intense.”
“I’ll be under the whole time.”
“How long’s recovery?”
“Six to eight weeks if all goes as planned. It doesn’t get rid of the disease—they haven’t figured out a cure—but it’s supposed to reduce the pain.”
The three of us rise to stand. “Seriously, no cure?”
She shakes her head.
“Anything I can do?”
“Visit me during recovery?”
“For sure.” Simba pulls me toward the door. “What’s your favorite dessert?”
“Uh…Fraisier cake. Can I grab a snack real quick?”
“Sure,” I say, and she follows me into the kitchen.
