Page 8 of Inherited Light
“We might have to take my van because,” she motioned around the chair and I smiled confidently.
“We’ll be fine. Your chair will fit in my car, I promise.”
“Okay,” she said folding her hands. “If you’re sure, you can pick me up at 722 Hollyhock Lane. You can’t miss it, there’s a long handicap ramp to the front door.”
I made a note in my phone and glanced up. “Great, should I pick you up at say seven?”
“Sounds perfect, Ren.”
I handed her my phone with the contacts open. “If you put your number in I’ll send you a text so you have mine, too. Just in case something comes up before then.”
She typed in the number and handed it back to me. I glanced down and loved how she typed ‘Cat’ instead of Catalina as the contact name. I tapped out a quick text. ‘Can’t wait for seven o’clock’. She smiled when she read it then spun the chair around. She wheeled with me toward the gate, Annabelle helping her along by pushing on the back of the chair with her little head.
She spun around when we got to the gate and stared at the dog. “Is she a trained service dog?”
I laughed and opened the gate, helping her through and then the dogs before closing it again. “Not a trained one, though I figure she has spent enough time watching Brutus, she’s trying to act like a big dog.”
She ruffled Annabelle’s ears. “Maybe I should get a Saint Bernard like Brutus. A dog like him could pull me wherever I wanted to go.”
I laughed and patted her on the back. “Or he could drag you wherever he wanted to go.”
She grinned and gazed up at me. “You’re right, maybe it’s not such a great idea.”
I steered the dogs toward the parking lot as she wheeled. “Don’t get me wrong, Brutus is a great dog if you love four pounds of dog hair on your couch and four pounds of dog droppings in your yard.”
Her nose curled up and she laughed. “Poop patrol, the one thing I haven’t missed about Buster. Why don’t you have a dog, Ren?”
“I live in an apartment above Miss Mary’s Appletime Café. I couldn’t torture a dog by making it stay there all day and smell such great food.”
“I love Mary’s apple pie. It’s like a little slice of heaven,” she said rubbing her flat belly. She stopped alongside a van which had seen better days. The doors were dented, the fenders had turned the shade of crimson, and the windshield was pockmarked with age. She opened the side door and held onto the handle. “This is me. Thanks for keeping me company, Ren. I hope Cinn is okay once they get her medications sorted out. I wouldn’t mind a text later, if you get a chance, to let me know how she is.”
I patted her shoulder and nodded. “You can count on it. Do you need any help before I leave?” I asked.
“Nope, after all these years, I got this, but thanks.” She waved as I headed toward the shelter. I let my mind relish the feeling of her skin on mine for a moment.
The truth had become obvious. I had a man crush on a sexy, grown up Catalina Chávez.
Chapter Four
Last night I silently thanked Cinn for an excuse not to go out with the guys. I didn’t need an excuse, but I guess an excuse felt easier than confronting the truth. I’ve lost interest in hanging out in a bar and drinking. I’ve also lost interest in the guys I used to hang out with on a regular basis. It seemed the only things they cared about involved booze, babes, and baseball. I still enjoy all three of those things, but in a much different way than they do.
I no longer need booze to have a good time, and rarely have it in my fridge. I still love babes, but now a vision of Cat loomed front and center in my mind. She wasn’t a bimbo type babe though, she was all woman, a beautiful woman with expressive chocolate brown eyes. She made me want to stand up straight and be a better man. Whatever she saw in me was enough because we were going on a date in just a few hours. The final B, baseball, remained my one true love, but I found I liked it better when booze wasn’t involved. I played on an intramural team on Thursday nights, and coached Little League on Saturday mornings.
This Saturday morning, I couldn’t sleep and got up early to work. I had a few hours before I had to be at the ball field and planned to wait for the café to open so I could grab breakfast before I left.
Standing here the last three hours, one thing became abundantly clear. My perspective on life has done a complete one-eighty in a short time. After graduating from college, I found a job which kept me engaged and excited and therefore I found less excitement in the teenage behavior my friends still exhibited. There were many times over the last few years when I asked myself why I still hung out with them. I figured out the answer last night. Fear. If I let go and chose a new path, I had to do it alone. In the wee hours of the morning, I realized I had already done it. I was at a point in my life where I wanted to settle down, find a good job, and maybe have a few Little League players of my own. I know a few people would say twenty-four is too young to be thinking about starting a family, and for some it might be true, but not for me. I love everything about my big, loud, busy, loving family. It’s time I relax my no dating regulation I’ve had myself on for the last few years and get back in the saddle. Considering I had a date in a few hours, it was apparent my subconscious was already a step ahead.
I blew the sawdust off the flower I had finished carving and laid it aside. Next, I started working on the leaves for the rose, which were tiny and symmetrical. I would dye them green with a simple process of wiping on dye made from a mixture of wood oil and coloring. The grains of the wood would pick up the color differently. When I was done they would have the same patterns and colors of a natural leaf. I worked deftly with my knife, sculpting the first leaf and then making a nearly identical one, at least as identical as I could while carving it freehand.
I glanced across the workbench which took up the left wall of my apartment. I had all the pieces to the flower vase I made for Cat almost complete. The vase I carved from one block of wood, so the vase sat on the table and was fully three dimensional. After staining it, I drilled a small hole in the top, which would hold the flower stem when I finished it.
I found joy in creating beautiful things from wood. It didn’t matter what I was making or for whom, I got lost in the work. Of course, this morning’s activity was thoroughly enjoyable for obvious reasons. I suspected Cat would find a handmade flower far superior to a real one. I planned to give it to her tonight when I picked her up. While I sanded the leaves with fine grit sandpaper, my mind drifted to last night at Cinn’s house.
My parents were there waiting with Poopsie and Annabelle when I arrived. When Foster and Cinn pulled in she seemed surprisingly upbeat, but I figured it was the medication, and anesthesia, which hadn’t worked itself through her system yet. They reported Dr. Reed had indeed found the Crohn’s had flared up again and attacked her stomach and lining of the esophagus. He put her on several medications along with a liquid acid reducer. He told Foster she would see decreased pain quickly, but to modify her tube feeds until she could do the full amount without discomfort.
If I can say one thing about Cinn, it’s this; she always finds something to be thankful for even when life isn’t going well. She told me last night she was thankful for me and Foster being there to make sure she didn’t wait too long to get treatment. It made me feel good to know she doesn’t see me as her annoying little brother anymore. She respects me and doesn’t try to brush me off because I’m younger than she is. She and I have a much better relationship than Tabitha and I do. Tabitha and I tolerate each other, but putting us alone in a room together is a surefire way to start an argument. At least it used to be.
Tabitha was eight when I was born, which meant by the time I was old enough to really need her, she was in high school and not interested in what her pesky little brother had to say. Of course, I’ve heard from other people it’s a rare thing for the oldest and youngest to get along. I guess it fit our family, too. Lately, we’ve found more common ground as we worked together at the shelter. She sees I’m not a pesky little brother anymore and there’s merit and value to the things I say. I see she’s trying to turn her life around and find herself, which up until now I wasn’t sure would ever happen.
