Page 7 of Forecasting the Forward

I shrug, knowing it pisses Jamie off. “Eh. Wolves are cooler.”

“Whatever. Oh, I have to go drop off some donations at the adoption center. Can you take Coach home? He’s renting in your building.” As if Jamie wasn’t already a huge football star with tons of adoring fans, he has to up the ante a little by being an all-around good human. When his schedule allows, he volunteers at an animal adoption center, regularly drops off donations and supplies at the humane society, and anonymously helps out a couple of animal related charities in Denver. He’s never gone into detail about why he does these things, but I also haven’t asked. I assumed it was personal.

He’s one of only a few people who know about my own animal haven.

“You should show Coach your shrine for your fucking guinea pigs.”

“The fuck? You got some pigs, Jax?” Coach asks with a grin.

Well, shit. That select few who know about my guineas has now grown by one.

After an incredibly long day,I’m relieved to step foot in my apartment as the sun begins to set behind the Rocky Mountains. I’m greeted by my frantic golden retriever, Thunder, who acts like he’s been alone for years. Maybe that’s how long it feels like to him. Honestly, the mathematical concept of dog years doesn’t make much sense to me.

“I missed you too, buddy,” I whisper into his fluff as he peppers me with kisses. Thunder is the epitome of a golden retriever: there are no strangers, he’s always beyond excited for everything, and he’s possibly missing a few brain cells. He makes me laugh every day.

I quickly change into comfortable clothes, grabbing Thunder’s leash, harness, and a ball as I walk past the kitchen. My small one-bedroom apartment is convenient for work, but expensive as hell. I’ve been debating on moving further into the suburbs, hoping I might be able to save some money, but I can’t find anything within the budget I’m willing to shell out toward housing.

Thankful to have daylight for a little while longer, I jog to a small dog park on the edge of downtown so Thunder can get a little off-leash exercise. Dog zoomies in an apartment are not enjoyable for anyone, and the neighbor below me already hates me. I have no idea what I did to offend her, but our interactions have only gotten colder the longer we’ve both lived in the building. I’ve never had good luck with female friendships. My analytical brain seems to compute differently than a typical woman. I think the only reason Danica still puts up with me is because of our common bond of work. Usually, if I meet another woman with a job that could be called nerdy, I fall all over myself trying to make a good impression. Poised I am not.

After throwing the ball for fifteen minutes, I call Thunder back so we can begin the walk home. Excessive panting tells me Thunder enjoyed the time to stretch his legs, and I mentally cross my fingers that he’s burned enough energy so he’ll sleep well tonight.

As we’re getting into the elevator back at my building, my phone vibrates with a message.

StickUM92: Am I allowed to ask something personal?

NerdGirl1025: I guess you can ask, but I don’t know if I’ll answer.

StickUM92: That’s fair.

StickUM92: I’ve been thinking about you all day. You gave me a little piece of information about your past, and your family, but I left you hanging. I didn’t mean to. I just wasn’t sure if I was allowed to ask anything, or provide you with an opportunity for you to talk if you needed to.

NerdGirl1025: Honestly, at that moment, I probably would have shut you down. But after a really long day, I’m open to it. I don’t really have a relationship with any of my family. Any time we talk, it’s usually because of something they think I’ve done wrong, or something they need from me.

StickUM92: All of them?

NerdGirl1025: Yup. I had a pretty rough childhood, I guess, with a lot of verbal abuse. As soon as I could get out of there, I did.

StickUM92: Verbal abuse?

NerdGirl1025: Yeah. I asked a lot of questions as a kid. I wanted to know why everything worked the way it did, or why people were a certain way. I never really learned how to filter what I said, and my parents felt embarrassed by me a lot. It just kind of snowballed from there, with my sibling getting in on the verbal beatdowns as well. Once I became the family punching bag, I was a very easy target for everything.

StickUM92: Fuck. I’m so sorry.

StickUM92: Want me to go beat ‘em up?

A bark of laughter breaks from my lips as I usher Thunder into my apartment. Removing his leash, I feed Thunder his dinner and toe off my shoes. I head to my favorite spot on my couch, where I have a perfect view of the mountains between two buildings. I curl into the plush blanket I keep on the back of the couch as I settle into the conversation.

NerdGirl1025: Tempting, but no. I paid my way through college with multiple jobs, and a loan I’ll be paying off for years, and I’ve only been home twice in the last decade when the only family members who I did have a good relationship with each passed away. My parents and sibling are basically dead to me. It sounds harsh, but I had to cut the toxicity out of my life.

StickUM92: I should probably do that with my mom. I only hear from her when she needs money, or when something dumb happens like a box of olives shows up.

NerdGirl1025: I’m not sure what is worse: having no relationship with a family member, or having one where it’sclear you’re an afterthought and not important at all. I’m sorry you’ve had the latter.

StickUM92: Eh. It is what it is. It’s taught me a lot about who I want to be as a person. For that, I’m grateful.

NerdGirl1025: You’re a glass-half-full kind of guy, aren’t you?

StickUM92: Who says I’m a guy? Maybe I’m Norma. I’m seventy, and a grandmother to fifteen. My entire personality is my grandchildren. Oh, and knitting.

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