Page 9 of The Most Dearest
The next night, Emma and I lay back on the bed exhausted. I was a young man, but having so much sex all the time was exhausting. I hated that the bed squeaked. I didn’t want to hurt Cordy any further, but she was the one who’d opted to stay. She was the one who opted to sleep just a few inches of plaster away from my new relationship. Maybe I should stop being so discreet. Cordy was uncomfortable, tense, and angry, so maybe Emma and I being a little more obvious might push her to finally leave. It was hardly romantic living with your recent ex, and Emma and I had shown appropriate restraint. The gloves needed to come off.
Kissing Emma’s temple, I snuggled in, more than ready for some rest. Before I could even close my eyes, my car alarm sounded. The cat problem in the neighborhood had become ridiculous, and my alarm had been set off several times in the last few months. Throwing on my work pants, a shirt, and shoes, I wandered out to shut off the alarm, only to see Miranda talking to Cam through his car window.
She stood and stepped back from the car, waving as Cam disappeared down the street.
“Hey Lord Lysol,” she greeted me, placing something in the trash can. Ignoring her, I pressed my remote to disarm the alarm. What was on my window? I stepped closer. The smell hit me before I could identify the smears on my windscreen. Cat shit. It was smeared, so it was clear a cat had not climbed my bonnet and shit on my window.
“Real mature, Miranda. Did you actually touch cat shit to deliver some kind of petty revenge on me?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. But theoretically, if I did that, I’d have used gloves.” She shrugged.
The sooner Cordy left, the sooner Miranda left. She was a juvenile and highly strung version of Cordy. She was perpetually in my face, taunting me and denigrating my relationship with Emma. She stood on the step, surveying the outcome of her revolting prank with a satisfied expression. To show her I didn’t care and that her prank was easily washed away, I went to grab the hose. It was missing.
“Oh, Cam needed to borrow the hose. Hope that’s ok. You can just use paper towels. Oh wait, no you can’t. I took the roll to work this morning. Being an artist is messy. Anyhoo, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” She waved pleasantly and headed inside to sleep next to Cordy, just as she had nearly every other night since I’d broken up with her sister.
I pondered my options. I could get a bucket and pour it over the window, but that probably wouldn’t have the water pressure required to remove the smears. I could wait until tomorrow, but I already had to leave early as it was. Emma wasn’t a morning person, nor was she a heavy sleeper. An early morning for me would mean an early morning for her, and I wasn’t about to let Miranda’s selfishness have further consequences for Emma.
I eyed Peggy’s hose. No, I couldn’t borrow that, or I’d encourage some kind of motion to be passed at the next Neighborhood Watch meeting. Wandering across the lawn, I began unscrewing Damon’s hose. The movement triggered his sensor light, and only a few seconds later he emerged from the house in loose sweatpants. What a show pony. The Adonis wannabe could at least have thrown on a shirt.
“Sorry for waking you. I just need to borrow your hose.” I smiled at him to apologize for the disruption.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said flatly, crossing his arms over his chest.
“My hose is missing, and I just need to clean something up real quick.” Why was he being so unreasonable?
“Like I said, I don’t think so.” He stepped off his stoop, and in a few quick strides he was uncomfortably close to me. Fucking weirdo. Why was he so protective of his hose? I’d let him borrow mine if the immature sister of his ex smeared cat shit on his car window.
“Fine,” I snapped. This guy was an asshole. He’d been friendly at first, but he’d become hostile and rude since Emma moved in. Miranda had no doubt been in his ear.
I wandered over to Peggy and Reg’s and borrowed their hose. The sensor light went on, but no one appeared. I returned the hose after cleaning up Miranda’s ridiculous show of anger, and went back to my bathroom, making sure to clean my hands thoroughly.
I sat in bed, using extra sanitizer to ensure I hadn’t somehow absorbed cat shit germs through osmosis. This was like a living nightmare.
Chapter 10: Cordelia – The audacity
O, what men dare do!
Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare
Life was hell. It had only been 10 days, and I was close to breaking point. I virtually lived in my bedroom. I’d claimed the master, so at least Harrison and his mistress were relegated to the unpainted mess of a spare room. That small victory made up for the bedspring issue. He had to buy a new mattress because I'd taken the spare. I hated this woman. We shared no words, only dirty looks. I could tell she was furious and hated that I was there. Spending time in the house was painful. Harrison turned out to be the most insensitive man on the planet. How dare he giggle on my sofa while tickling his lover? How dare he order food for them and eat on my back patio? There must be no audacity left in the world because this man had sucked it all up for himself. All the while, I was in my room falling apart. Miranda stayed over most nights to keep me from spiraling, but I suspect she was also motivated by the desire to antagonize the lovebirds in their natural habitat. She didn't say anything outright mean directly to Emma, but she was like a white ant gnawing at the foundations of their “relationship.”
Last night had been particularly amusing for her and particularly uncomfortable for them. I lay in my bed crying and unshowered while they enjoyed quality time in front of the television.
Miranda sat in the living room with them, commenting on the movie. “Wow, that guy looks like he’d have the second-smallestdick in the world,” she mused, then flicked a pointed glare at Harrison.
“Can’t she just leave, Harrison?” Emma whined.
He gritted his teeth and placed his hand on Emma’s thigh but said nothing.
“She’s the cat’s mother,” Miranda replied pleasantly. “You know the saying Alvin.”
“Why is she calling me Alvin?” Emma demanded.
“I don’t know. Miranda, find something else to do,” Harrison snapped.
“Nah, happy here inmy sister’shouse,” she said, shrugging.
I was too heartbroken to be amused by Miranda’s antics but felt eternally grateful for her presence. I couldn’t have remained in this ridiculous game of wills if it weren’t for her strength and humor.
