Page 4 of Dear Adam
“Hudson?” Dad asks. “Would you care to give Adam some extra training?”
“Yeah sure, buddy. I can give you some pointers.” The veins in Adam's neck bulge at the use ofbuddyagain, and I know it’s probably time to pull out an emergency card to save Adam from this one.
“Wow,” I say, taking pointers from Mom and fanning myself wildly. “Is it hot in here or is this takeout about to do unspeakable things to my stomach? You know all that cheese can’t contribute to keeping you regular.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Alyson,” Mom groans, and Dad’s face is beet red, either from embarrassment or anger. Before he can reprimand me, I scoot my chair back from the table.
“I need to get out of here. Sorry to cut out before dessert but I think all that sugar on top of all the cheese I ate will be no bueno if you know what I mean. Adam, would you mind helping me load up Pretzel?” Before I’m able to finish my sentence, Adam’s chair scrapes against the hardwoods as he stands.
“Thanks for dinner,” we say in unison, hightailing it downstairs leaving behind Mom, Dad, and Hudson to stare after us, bewildered.
Chapter two
Aly
BythetimeIpark in the crushed-shell driveway of my little sun-bleached yellow cottage, I am utterly exhausted. My Bronco’s air conditioning doesn’t work and the whole ride home, Pretzel attempted to jump out of the open window; I’ve never hated my hand cranked windows more.
With a world-weary sigh, I get out, thinking this is even worse than the time it took an extra twenty seconds to roll down my window in the coffee shop drive-thru, and the grandma in a pearly white Cadillac behind me flipped me off.
I would’ve been more offended if she didn’t remind me of myself in fifty years.
Pretzel takes advantage of the second I’ve got my back turned to open my door and at last, soars out the opposite window. A curse slips from my lips as I chase after her and I groan as she rockets herself into the harbor, sending a spray of water droplets across my skin. Although it’s shallow in this area, frustration still claws at me. It’s been too long of a day and a wet, disobedient dog is the last thing I want to deal with tonight.
“Pretzel, please,” I beg and clap my hands together. Pretzel has found a duck to torment and is happily doggy paddling around behind it.
“Pretzel,” I hiss through clenched teeth. My voice wavers, the exhaustion and impatience seeping through. She doesn’t even give me a side eye at the mention of her name, and I’m beginning to wonder if she evenknowsher name. Is she just this disobedient,still?
My chest heaves with a sigh as I slide off my flip flops and tear my wrinkled dress over my head. The cool water is surprisingly soothing after a long, eventful day as I wade in after her. A piece of driftwood floats by and I grab it, finally stealing Pretzel’s attention away from the duck. Relieved, the duck paddles off and out of sight.
“Good dog,” I say soothingly when she starts paddling towards me. “Come here, good girl.” She gets close enough that I’m able to grab ahold of her harness. I hoist her into my arms and she grunts, realizing her play time is up. As I carry a wriggling, soaking wet dog back to the house, my shoulders slump like someone who’s done manual labor their whole life with the weight of my frustration. As I’m bending over to let Pretzel down through the front door, someone coughs, causing me to snap up and look around.
Mr. Barnes, my eighty-three-year-old neighbor, is standing in his front yard, watering his already perfectly emerald green lawn, mouth ajar. It doesn’t matter what day it is, what the temperature is, or how green his grass is, Mr. Barnes isalwayswatering his lawn and always eavesdropping into my life. My frustration and impatience must be at an all-time high because instead of being the nice neighbor who typically offers a wave and smile, I throw one hand up and mouth,what?
He clears his throat, blinks rapidly, and goes back to watering his lawn. I look down, and that’s when it hits me. The panties I grabbed from the clean laundry pile before dinner this evening in a hurry to make it on time are lime green and have “Cutie Patootie” across the butt. My bra isn’t any better, with its sheer lace cups and purple bows under each boob.AndI'm sort of chilly now after getting out of the water, so little is left to the imagination. My cheeks flame from embarrassment, and I feel like that Italian take out from dinner is about to do unspeakable things to my stomach. With a grimace and a little wave, I scamper through the front door and Pretzel wriggles out of my arms.
She’s still soaking wet and standing dangerously close to the sofa I recently purchased from Facebook Marketplace. It’s got embroidered yellow daisies all over its pale pink velvet and looks like it’s straight from the seventies. I’ve never seen a more perfect couch. I narrow my eyes and I swear she does the same, almost as if she’s testing my limits. At this point, I’m ready to get on my hands and knees for a five-pound wiener dog. My hands are clasped together in front of my chest and I inch toward the bedroom. Pretzel cocks her head to the side, clearly interested.
She blinks up at me through dark, round eyes and, for a second, I think I’ve finally broken through to her. She’s finally understood that I’m the boss around here. A smug smile turns the corners of my lips upward and immediately her little wiener dog eyes fill with malice. Within seconds, water droplets spray from one wall of the tiny living room to the other, including all over my perfectly new couch.
A sigh of frustration seeps out from behind pursed lips and I clamp the bridge of my nose between two fingers. “It’s going to be a long ten days,” I mutter and head to find the blow dryer.
The following morning, I open my eyes to the pale yellow rays of sun peeking through my windows. Grudgingly, I throw the covers off and roll over, ready to get up. Right as I’m about to set my feet onto the floor, Pretzel flies off the bed to paw at the door. She’s whining and doing her own version of the potty dance, shifting from side to side, her nails click-clacking on my floor.
“Hold on,” I grumble and shuffle out to the front door. I slip on her harness and check three times to make sure the leash is attached. I wag a finger at her and say, “Don’t try anything.” My voice is still raspy with sleep, and Pretzel either understands or really has to pee because she gingerly crawls down the front porch steps and does her business in the flower bed. I would prefer she not pee on the hydrangea bushes I’m trying to coax back to life, but I’m still too groggy with sleep to scold her.
While I get ready for the busy day ahead, Pretzel follows me around like a…well like a lost puppy. The entire time I shower, she’s got her nose pressed to the glass, fogging it up. When I use the bathroom, her head peeks around the corner like a little creeper. It’s almost laughable until I realize she probably doesn’t have much else to do. I put every chewable or breakable item up before I even left for dinner Sunday. There’s not a pair of tauntingly lacy bikini cut panties in sight.
I throw on a yellow sundress with little roses embroidered on it from the clean clothes mound and pile my wavy hair into a loose ponytail. Any other day, I would take my Vespa to work since it’s only a short drive from my cottage in Mount Pleasant to my floral studio on King Street. Today though, with Pretzel, I decide on the Bronco…with the windows only cracked this time.
We arrive at Bloomie's in less than ten minutes, and I say a silent prayer of thanks when I find a parking spot near the front entrance. I’m trying to unlock the door and juggle my laptop in one hand while trying to hold Pretzel—who is apparentlyverynosy and wants to lick, smell, and touch everything she can—with the other when my phone goes off in my crossbody. Adam’s face fills the screen, with his goofy smile and hair sticking up in all directions. I manage to wedge the laptop between my chin and my boobs, creating a very sexy double chin and stab at the green button on the screen to answer.
Although…it’s not Adam who answers. It’s very grown up, very beautiful…Levi.
Growing up, I had always had a tiny crush on him, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t occasionally tried to look up his social media profiles. He didn’t have any that I could find, leaving me to only guess at what he could possibly look like after ten years of no contact with him. I stare blankly at the screen for a few seconds, trying to figure out if this is the same guy who used to relentlessly tease me for my eccentric taste in clothing and well…everything else. This handsome stranger with large blue eyes, hair as dark as the midnight sky, and beard speckled across his chiseled jaw couldn’t possibly be the same guy who wore headgear at one point.
“Aly!” Levi’s voice booms through the speakers. “How are ya? Long time no see.” I catch sight of my double chin in my reflection on the bottom right corner of the screen and immediately straighten my neck to fix my posture, causing my laptop to fall flat on my feet.
“Ouch!” I yell, bouncing and flailing around, Pretzel standing on her hind legs to join in on the commotion with me.
