Page 111 of Lovebug
This gets a little laugh out of me.
“He hurt you, yeah? He lied to you. I’m sure those feelings are super fresh right now. But I want to assure you. I might be gruff. I might be a dick—”
“You’re not a dick,” I protest.
“Uh… less than a week ago, you were shocked I took a yoga teacher training course because—and I quote—‘you’re a bit of a dick.’”
“Sorry,” I grimace.
“Don’t be. The point I’m trying to make is that yes, Icanbe a bit of a dick. I think it comes from me giving up giving a damn what other people think of me anymore. What I amnot,though, is a liar. You hear me? I will never lie to you, Mabel. Never. You will always get the straight story from me. All you ever have to do is ask.”
He squeezes my hand. I nod and smile.
“Next?” he says.
“Hm?”
“You said you have a lot of questions. Hit me. Ask.”
“You sure?”
“Hundred percent. Get ’em all out there in the open.”
“Okay…” I take a deep breath and unleash my rapid-fire curiosities.
“Why were you so grumpy and okay with people avoiding you and making up stories about you when we first met? You didn’t really tell my CITs to call you ‘The Wall,’ did you? How did you know Doreen’s business was a sham? And what made you take it upon yourself to get all those peopleoutof that business? And not for nothing, but what was up with all those sheep metaphors? Are you a farmer or something, and you’ve just never mentioned it? Okay. All this talk of partnering with nature—what’s going on there? What made you move from the city and build a tiny home on an arboretum? Also, how can a handyman who occasionally teaches yoga afford to buy an arboretum? For that matter,whywould you buy an arboretum? That was the third time in a row I said arboretum, and now the word arboretum officially sounds nonsensical. Isn’t that funny when that happens? Oh, how do you know Naomi Thornton? Did you two date or something? Clearly, she’s hot for you. And how did she know the suit I was wearing was your ex-wife’s? Were they friends? And did your ex-wife have a thing for power suits of the eggplant variety? Also, that splooge lady—who also seems to have the hots for you—she mentioned you being in ’recovery.’ What was that all about? What were orareyou recovering from? And lastly—for now—I know we established that you are my elder, but exactly how much elder—excuse me—olderare you?”
I draw in a huge gulp of air and let it out.
There. That ought to get us heading in the right direction.
“Did you breathe at all during that monologue?” He chuckles.
“No,” I pant. “No, I did not.”
I turn sideways on the swing and pull my knees up into my chest to settle in for his explanation.
“Alright,” he says. “Let’s see how concise I can be while chipping away at all of that.” He tops off first my wineglass, then his, takes a sip, cracks his knuckles, and says, “I picked up my life and moved it to the arboretum because I was starting over.”
“What made you decide to start over?” I ask tentatively.
“It was less of a decision and more of a … directive. Every single aspect of my life told me I was going the wrong way. Wrong relationship. Wrong career path. Wrong way of viewing the world around me. I wanted to take a break from people and just… be alone and quiet with nature.” He smiles. “Which is an excellent plan until you realize that every summer for two months straight the place will be crawling with children and counselors who just won’t leave you alone.”
“Sorry,” I wince.
“Don’t be. One counselor, in particular, has made quite the impression. I certainly wouldn’t wish her away.”
“Ahem.Headcounselor, thank you very much.”
“Oh, excuse me, ma’am.Headcounselor.” He stares out over the water. “And the kids have turned out to be pretty great too. But yes, I did initially try to scare the CITs off. Needed some time to tune out from people and tune in to nature.”
“So you did tell them to call you ‘The Wall’?” I ask, surprised.
“I did. It’s what my work buddies used to call me.Andmy ex-wife.”
“Why did they call you that?”
“Well, for one thing, it’s short for Wallace.”
