Page 10 of Lovesick
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I had a week and a half until spring break. I had hoped that this period might not be as busy as most of the semester had been, but my hopes turned out to be extremely misguided because I found myself in a constant state of not having enough time to get things done. It was like every figure of authority around me suddenly realized “whoops, it’s almost spring break and there’s so much to cover before then,” and crammed in extra assignments with deadlines impossible to meet.
Two things convinced me to haul my butt out of bed every morning and fling myself back into the stressful cycle: Marty and Marty. Yes, I know I said Marty twice. That was because he helped me in two different ways that made the mountain of stress that descended onto my shoulders bearable.
First, he talked to me. We almost never got back to each other immediately, Marty because he had customers and work to do at the nursery and me because I couldn’t just whip out my phone every time I felt it vibrate in the Cancer Center. Even if I couldn’t reply right away, the solid weight of my phone in my pocket gave me something I badly needed to get through the days - something to look forward to. Whenever I took a quick break or went for a drink of water, I could check my phone and finally read that text I had been thinking about.
And every single message made me happy. No matter what time it was, no matter the mood I was in, just knowing Marty was on the other side of the words on the screen cheered me right up.
He didn’t just talk to me, either. He helped me another way by pulling me out of my stressful life and into his through things that surrounded him daily - flowers.
Three days after I had gone back to Tulane, I had sent him a picture of several textbooks piled on top of each other on my desk in the library along with something like “Can you drown in books?” I didn’t expect a quick answer but I got one within a minute. It was a picture, and when I tapped the notification to see what it was, a breathtaking purple iris stretched its petals across the screen.
“Wow,”I replied immediately after saving the flower as my background. “It’s so pretty!”
“Right? It made me think of you.”
That was the smoothest line anyone had ever sent me, and I had sat there blushing in the middle of the busy library for the next ten minutes. I couldn’t think of an equally smooth and flirty reply, so I ended up telling a slight twist of the truth. “Stop it, you’ll make me blush!”
“That was the idea.”The kissy emoji he added made me lose my place in the book I was reading.
After that, he made it a habit to send me pictures of flowers at least once a day, usually more. If I said anything that implied I might be feeling down, I could expect to see a sunflower smile at me or a bouquet of roses lift their velvety petals like they wanted to gather me to them in a comfort hug.
It was hands down the sweetest gesture a guy had ever done for me, and when I told Zoe and Abigail it had them swooning too.
Marty sent more than just pictures of flowers. Flowers were nice, but after the first time I sent Marty a “whatcha doing?” and he sent me a picture of him sitting on a bench, sweat beading his exposed skin and drenching his tank top as his bicep swelled with veins and bulged with the strength to curl a massive dumbbell - well, let’s just say I got a little too excited every time I saw he had sent me a picture of his workout.
And then, finally, I got the chance to show him something I loved to do - volunteer. I had a few spare hours on the Thursday before spring break, so I went to a nearby animal shelter where I often volunteered and spent my free time walking the dogs in a nearby park and playing with the cats. Of course, I couldn’t resist taking a couple selfies of me holding my favorite terrier, Dancer, and playing with my favorite cat, Fritz.
Marty asked if they were mine, to which, unfortunately, I had to respond with “no”. That did lead into a whole conversation about animals, though, which I could talk about forever. Marty actually remembered that I had volunteered in Lafayette too, back in high school. Apparently, a couple of years ago, his mother had adopted a cat from the shelter where I had volunteered. Now, the cat lived at their nursery and had the run of the place.
I was just glad Marty didn’t hate cats because I didn’t know if I could get along with a man who did. A lot of people who liked cats also liked dogs, but they liked cats more. People who liked dogs a lot tended to hate cats. I just loved animals in general and didn’t understand people who hated an entire species for no reason.
On Saturday evening, the last day I would spend at the sorority house before going home for break, Marty tracked down his cat and sent me a picture of a black and gray tabby curled up in a basket on the floor of one of the storage sheds. “We have to check all the sheds for her before we close the doors for the night,he told me through text.She’s gotten shut in there before.”
“I don’t blame her. That looks comfortable.”I sent a picture of my half-packed suitcase, making sure there were no particularly private articles of clothing visible. “Leaving early,”I typed out as the caption.
He sent me a picture in response. He was lying on his back on a pile of large bags of soil or fertilizer, holding his phone high over his head with one hand and scratching the tabby’s chin with his other. The cat looked so small against his broad chest and under his large, strong hand, but totally at ease and happy.
Yes, it was true. I was jealous of a cat.
A second later, I got another text. “Can’t wait to see you.”
We had never actually talked about what we would do over spring break, but I had kind of assumed we would spend some more time together. And now, Marty had confirmed it.
I took a pair of jeans out of my dresser, started to put them in my suitcase, and stopped. This was the same pair I had worn to the Mardi Gras parade - the ones that squeezed my butt with every step. I tossed them back into the dresser and picked a different pair instead, one that I knew would fit a bit looser, then texted Marty back. “Can’t wait to see you too. I miss you.”
I had finished packing, plugged in my phone, flicked off the lights and laid down before he texted me back. In the dull glow from the phone, I spotted Zoe giving me a knowing smirk. I turned onto my other side before she could make out my blush and opened the message.
Miss you too. I’ve missed you since high school.
Chapter Six
Marty
I was a certifiable genius. The naysayers might say that someone who had never attended college couldn’t be a genius, but I had just proven them wrong.
Here was the problem I needed to solve. Maggie was coming home to Lafayette for spring break. I wanted to see Maggie. In fact, I wanted to see her as much as possible during this week, but I had to work. What could I do?
