Page 57 of Tamiko and the Two Janitors
He extended a hand.
Sitting back on his haunches, the squirrel met his gesturewith a clever paw, which fit neatly on his palm. And then Kip crowded close,pulling himself up Joe’s shirt and butting him under the chin. Joe’s armsquickly came around for support. The red fur was plush as a kitten’s, and therewere whiskers tickling everywhere the squirrel’s twitching nose touched.
“Soft,” Joe whispered.
Biddie heartily agreed.
He settled himself more comfortably, crossing his legs to cradlethe squirrel who rubbed their cheeks together affectionately. Joe had alwaysliked animals. He chuckled and mumbled, “Gosh, you’re adorable.”
And then he remembered who he was holding. He froze, faceaflame.
Kip’s tail twitched into a question mark, and his eyes blinked.
Joe could have sworn the squirrel fluttered his lashes. Thenthose delicate paws latched onto Joe’s ears, and Kip placed a fuzzy kiss on hisforehead. Draping his forelegs around Joe’s neck, he sagged against his chestand chirred softly. It was a little like purring.
Biddie said, “He likes it.”
“I guess he does.” Joe stroked red fur and marveled at howlight Kip was. Following Biddie’s lead, he tugged at tufted ears and playedwith the pads on one forepaw. And tried not to think about the fact that he’d haveto look this man—person—in the eye later.
The sun climbed, and Joe relaxed. Having an animal lollingblissfully under your hands might just be the best cure for stress. For thefirst time in a while, Joe felt calm, balanced.
And then the squirrel roused itself enough to changepositions, scooting so he was sitting between Joe’s legs, slouching back into hischest. That’s when Kip changed, leaving Joe cradling his speaking form.
He jerked his hands away.
But Kip grabbed his wrists, wrapping them back around hischest in a loose embrace as he slumped further. Eyes closed, a smile on hisupturned face, he said, “One of the hardest parts of living away from theenclave is this sort of thing. Touch is a huge part of Amaranthine culture, andI never get enough.”
Joe didn’t know what to do.
A clawed hand patted his arm. “Don’t be embarrassed, Jiro. I’vealways been a cuddler.”
“I’m … not.”
“Figured that out. Should I switch back?” Kip tipped hishead back, looking at him upside down. “It’s all the same to me.”
Was it the same? Joe looked away, then closed his eyes forgood measure. Trying to ignore the shape of the person sprawled against him, hesearched for the sense of calm and found it waiting. It was peaceful, patient,yet somehow playful. Separate and strange, yet a safe place to linger. Tiltinghis face toward the sun, Joe stopped thinking about much of anything.
Biddie flung herself across Kip’s midriff, and he exhaled onanoof. “Let’s get situated. No sense breaking my tail or Jiro’s back.”
They stretched out side-by-side, still partly on Joe’sspread jacket, with Biddie wedged between them. Joe stubbornly clung to thatpeaceful feeling and let his mind drift. He’d barely slept last night.
“Jiro?”
He stirred and hummed.
“What do you call that one?”
Joe opened his eyes and followed Kip’s pointing finger to oneof the little nut-brown birds. “Flutter-nuggets.”
“I like it.” He shifted slightly, indicating a tangled knotthat drifted harmlessly past. “How about that?”
“Umm … I’ve been calling those air ribbons. What are theyreally?”
“Your air ribbons are juvenile gossameer, and the flutter-nuggetsare dun nippets. But I’m totally calling them flutter-nuggets from now on.”
Joe thought it was better, too.
Kip’s voice came again. “Jiro?”
