Page 12 of The Problem with Falling
“Lovely,” she said, hopping up from the chair. “I’ll be out of your hair.”
I sighed. “I’ll drive you to your ride.”
“No. It’s fine. It’s clear that this unrealistic, unintelligent woman ruined your night, so I won’t take any more time from your clearly joy-filled life.” She headed for the front door and opened it. “But first, fast question…are there…bears out here at night?”
“Get in my truck. I’ll drive you around to your damn bird.”
She did as I said, and the moment I hopped into my driver’s seat, she was already tinkering with the stereo.
“What the hell are you doing?” I spat out.
“Trying to find music. I don’t like silence,” she said.
I shut off the radio. “I figured that out by how much you never shut up.”
She turned on the radio. “You know what? You really put a little extra grump into your grumpiness at three in the morning.”
I shut off the radio. “And you dash a bit extra annoying in your annoyingness at three in the morning.” I put the truck into park after turning down the road toward the cliff where she’d jumped. And there in front of us was a school bus. “Big Bird, I assume?” I remarked sarcastically. What a joke this woman was.
“That’s her.”
I grumbled.
She narrowed her eyes. “Your energy… It seems tainted. Do you want me to burn sage around you?”
“That’s the last thing I want you to do.”
“But your energy feels heavy. I don’t like it for you.”
“Oh no, a strange woman who howls naked at the moon doesn’t like my energy. How will I ever survive?” I mocked.
She opened the truck door and stepped outside. Yet before she closed the door, she said, “I don’t think you’re a very nice person,” with her chest puffed out. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you saved my life and stitched me up, but I don’t think you’re a nice person. You don’t give off that energy.”
“Well, I’m glad you picked up on that fact. Don’t get me started on what I think about you.”
“Whatdoyou think of me?” she asked, hands on her hips.
“Trust me, sport, you don’t want to know what I think of you. Have a good life, Willow.” I leaned over and grabbed the passenger door. “And stay the fuck away from the cliffs.”
I slammed the door shut, then drove away from her, hoping we’d never cross paths again.
People.
Psh.
I fucking hated people.
Especially the ones who howled at moons.
My next morningstarted on a bad page because my night ended on a bad note, too. I woke up grumpy and annoyed. One of my first thoughts was of the strange hippie flower child I’d saved on the water. The thought after it wasstupid, strange hippie flower child I’d saved on the water.
There should’ve been a rule about being idiotic when it came to nature. Warning: keep fucking idiots out of nature. If it wasn’t a random woman diving off the cliffs in the middle of the night, it was people doing gender reveal parties who burned down half a forest.
The number of people in town who almost burned down wooded areas with their damn gender reveals was alarming, to say the least. Annoying as fuck, to say the most. And what in the world was with all those newly created celebrations that people found the need to partake in as of late? What happened to just having a baby shower? What was up with all those other made-up parties before the baby was even born? Soon enough, someone was gonna be hosting “the day we screwed and made a baby” parties or “guess who’s the baby daddy” parties. Half the idiots throwing those parties had no business being knocked up, anyway.
Hell, now I wasn’t only annoyed with Willow, but I was annoyed with gender reveals.
I begrudgingly headed to my grandparents’ house around ten in the morning. I didn’t need to be at the restaurant until one in the afternoon, but I told Grandma I’d get her friend settled in at my place.
