Page 33 of The Top of Admiration
Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent
As You Like It, William Shakespeare
I read the note that accompanied the kite several times. It had to be Miranda. She had beautiful script-like writing, but this note was in basic print and all capitals, a sign that she was disguising her writing. Miranda could be odd in the most delightful way. Maybe this was her way of telling me she was interested but making it fun, in the offbeat kind of way only she could.
How could I respond? My phone pinged.
Lucy: You are sooo boring. Seriously Cam, a photo of a hotel coffee? What is even the point of having Insta if you act like a boomer on it? You should have added a floral background and captioned it ‘like and share if you remember coffee like this.’ What’s next? Just give up and post ‘We didn’t have cell phones, we had common sense.’
Her text, which was probably pretty fair to be honest, gave me a brilliant idea. I’d post a clip of me flying my kite on Insta. I’d catch some shit for it from my friends, but I knew Miranda would see it and be happy that she’d brought me joy. My crutches would make it a bit tricky, but I could lean on one while I controlled the kite with my other arm. The rain had eased up, but the wind was still strong. Perfect. Lucy made her presence known again.
Lucy: Actually, you should warn people that if they get an email about free iPads, it’s probably a scam.
I smiled. It was the ideal day to fly a kite. And make some killer Insta content.
___________________________
The sky was clear and bright, the kind of day that dared you to do something childlike. I stood in the park, the kite tugging playfully against its string, its red and gold tail twisting in the breeze. My phone was propped up on a nearby bench, zoomed in to catch my joy when the kite took flight.
The wind caught, and the kite soared higher. I smiled, genuinely happy for the first time in weeks. But then, as if fate was bored with my contentment, the line went taut. The kite had nosedived into the tallest oak in sight.
“Of course,” I muttered, giving the string a small, hopeful tug. Nothing.
I pulled again, harder this time. The branch shuddered but held firm. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled. I was too stubborn to leave it there, that much was certain. Plus, it was a gift from Miranda. No way was I leaving it behind.
One more sharp yank.
There was a crack overhead—louder than I expected. The branch came down fast, a blur of motion, leaves and splinters cascading through the air. Instinctively, I threw up an arm to shield myself, but the thick edge of the branch caught my forearm, tearing across the skin. Pain flashed white-hot, almost more searing than the ankle pain had been. I staggered back, the kite fluttering free and landing beside me in the grass like a guilty accomplice. Blood welled quickly along a deep gash that would undoubtedly need stitches.
I stared at it in disbelief for a beat, then let out a strangled laugh. “Perfect,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “She’s trying to kill me.”
I tore off my flannel overshirt, wrapping it tightly around the wound, pressing hard. No way would I post this debacle on Insta. Even injured, I couldn’t bring myself to be angry. Her intentions had come from a pure place. A sweet, chaotic, Miranda-shaped place.
“Yeah,” I muttered to myself as I winced and picked up the kite’s broken frame. “Figures you’d make fun beautiful … and mildly dangerous.”
This time, I didn’t bother Damon. I’d walked to the park but didn’t fancy a blood-soaked stroll home so called Lucy, who also had the day off. She was there in what seemed like a nano second.
“Fucking hell, Cam. Do you have a death wish right now? Why are you flying kites?” She looked genuinely confused and worried for my sanity.
“The kite was a gift. I was filming it to thank the gift-giver.” This earned me another odd look from Lucy, who opened the door while carrying the kite. “Who’s sending you kites? This is so weird.”
“Kite. Singular,” I clarified.
I paused. Given my injuries were escalating, I’d decided to confront Miranda, so it wouldn’t be harmful to let Lucy in on the game.
“Miranda. She also ‘fixed’ my porch. She’s doing nice things for me in secret, but they seem to just drum up business for the medical profession.”
Lucy grinned. “Classic Miranda, but why would she be doing this? Oh my God! You two have a thing! I knew it.” She was thrilled, bouncing around in her seat as she drove, showing very little caution. It had been a while since I got in Lucy’s car and her prolonged eye contact with me instead of the road reminded me why that was the case.
“I don’t know. Damon thinks she might like me but not want to move quickly,” I shrugged.
“Then you have to move faster, Cam. Oh, I knew this would happen. Even when Asshole Cam was on the scene. Come to ours for dinner tonight. Her whole family is coming so it’s like a the-more-the-merrier deal.” She shrieked again, tapping the steering wheel with two open palms.
“Hold the wheel properly, Lucy. Between you and Miranda, I’m not seeing my next birthday.”
“Pfft. What, so you can wish yourself a happy birthday on your own post, boomer?” She snorted, but her broad smile remained.
“Whatever. Just take me to emergency. I think I need stitches.”
