Page 4 of Shit Happens in Ivydell

Damn, Gran would’ve loved him.

Tears slip from my eyes, taking me by surprise. It happens a lot in the shower, especially when I let myself think about hard stuff. The shower has always been where I process and work through things. The steam clears more than my sinuses sometimes.

Usually, crying in the shower feels cathartic; today, it feels pathetic. I turn off the water and grab a towel. It’s early for pajamas, but I don’t plan to go out again. My bed is already calling. I slip into a soft tank top and climb between the sheets.

It’s a good time to check in with Mom. Still rush hour at home, so the emergency room might be too busy for her to reply. I don’t want her to worry, but she didn’t support my plan to spend a few months here, and her disapproval comes across loud and clear in her messages sometimes.

She hates Ivydell, and my not hating it is not what she’d hoped for.

Hey, hope you’re having a good day. Just wanted to say hi. Love you!

Is the wind bad there today?

No. It’s been beautiful. I helped Petra and Myrna clean up the path to The Circle. My arms feel like I’ve been lifting weights all day. All I did was rake. Guess I need to do more arm days at the gym.

No gym in Ivydell.

No, but I’m getting exercise. My gym membership will still be there when I get back.

You did pause it, right? You’re not paying for the months you’re not even here, are you?

It’s all good, Mom. Didn’t you have a date this weekend? How’d it go?

I’ll tell you about it later. Ambulance en route. Love you.

She could at least tell me if her date went well or not. I’m guessing not.

I haven’t told her everything lately either. Didn’t mention the scorpion sting. Or the badger on my back patio. Or the mountain lion that visited.

Or Jensen.

I’m debating whether I want to text him and invite him over. I ate a peanut butter sandwich before I showered. He eats late sometimes, and I don’t have anything decent here to offer him. I for sure don’t want to go anywhere, not even for the fourth best barbecue in the state. But the memory brings a quick smile to my face.

There’s a hard slap on my door that makes me jump. And then the knob jiggles and a familiar voice follows. “Open up! I know you’re in there.”

Josephine. She shouldn’t be back yet. Why are everyone’s plans changing?

I scramble out of bed and into a pair of shorts and open the door. Her dark curls are held behind her ears by the arms of her sunglasses, which are sitting on top of her head. The blue of her eyes is always arresting, but with her hair pulled back, I can’t look away from them. Until she holds up a black nylon bag. “You gonna let me in or what?”

“Well, I was, but now, I’m not sure. What is that?”

“I had four clients cancel on me. Four! I’ve never had that many in a row. I need to put some ink in some skin. And I choose yours.”

“That explains why you’re back from Albuquerque early.”

“Yep.” She sets the bag on my bed. “What do you want? Flowers? Butterfly?”

“I never said I wanted a tattoo, but if I did, how do you know I wouldn’t choose something edgier than flowers or butterflies?”

“I am not doing a chipmunk tattoo.”

“Don’t want that either.”

“How about a scorpion?” She waggles her eyebrows at me.

“Oh, sure. It wouldn’t be weird at all to get the same tattoo as Jensen.”

“You could get yours somewhere more interesting than your neck.”

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