Page 43 of Resting Grump Face
I fumble in my pockets and find a $100 bill that I slap against his chest. “For your troubles and the dry cleaners,” I explain and suddenly look into surprisingly happy eyes. “Now go away.”
The guy turns around and runs off. He’s quite good at taking commands and running.
“Next Friday we’re cleaning up Duck Quack Park. You’re welcome to join,” I shout after him as his pants sag down to his knees. When I turn around, Sienna is inspecting me wearily.
“That was kind of hot,” she says, twists the plastic bag and swings it against my chest for me to catch. “You’re like the bully who bullies the bullies. The bully-bully.”
“I’m not a bully.”
“You just beat someone up because he was mean to me.” She smirks.
Despite only sporting a fancy dress shirt, I heat up again. “First of all, I didn’t beat anyone up. Secondly, I did it because he threw trash into the pond.” I swing the bag over my shoulder. It’s more than half full. “And just a little because he was rude,” I add quietly.
It’s slowly getting dark and I should probably just drop her off at home, but my gut tells me we’re not done yet. I should use the weekend to force her to spend time with me before we only get to see each other at the office where there will be otherpeople around. People who might get the wrong idea if I lock her into my office with me.
I retrieve my phone and dial my brother Roman’s number. He picks up on the first ring and immediately asks if I can’t make it tonight. I explain that I am not calling to cancel, but instead wanted to see if it’s okay if I bring someone along. To my surprise, he almost sounds elated at the inquiry, which is usually an emotion reserved for awful food and whimsical socks.
“Who are we meeting?” Sienna asks when I hang up.
“My brother, Roman. We have dinner every Friday. You’re coming along.”
She looks at me, then at her stomach. She forewent meatloaf in favor of staring at me angrily. “First of all, it’s Saturday. Second of all, I am kind of surprised you have two brothers. Not a twin, right? Because you seem like the kind of person who, given the chance, would absorb their sibling in utero. Thirdly, I guess I could eat.” She turns my way, then gives me a pat on my back. “I bet your brother is the one who got all the likability.”
For a moment I am glad she doesn’t ask why I am meeting him today instead of yesterday. “Yes, he is indeed very likeable, but don’t worry, I’ll try to even that out by being extra grumpy.”
“Clark,” someone shouts behind us as we’re about to exit the park. “Leaving already?”
We turn around and discover a polar bear waving at us with his grabber. I raise my hand in greeting and answer, “Yeah, sorry, Charlie.We’ve got plans, but let’s catch up next time, alright?”
“Sure thing, Clark. See you then!”
We throw the trash and grabber into the trunk and enter the car where Miles is already waiting, reading one of his smut books. He’s still wearing the trucker hat he claims counts as a costume.
Sienna buckles in and the car takes off. “Why did that guy call you Clark?” she asks eventually.
“It’s my nom de plume… nom de costume, if you will. When I first started the Litterati?—”
“Wait, you started this thing?”
“Hm,” I grumble and let my hand glide over the stubble on my face. “With my ex. I wanted to do something useful for the people in my community and the environment. You know, more than just donating money. But I didn’t want anyone to recognize me, so I came up with the costume idea. This way I can stay incognito and it’s great for publicity. A bunch of weirdos in costumes cleaning a park attracts a lot of attention, which means we attract more people, which means cleaner parks, while I can maintain my anonymity. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of us. We’re basically local celebrities.”
Sienna is quiet for a moment. I wonder what she might be thinking about, but before I can ask, she snaps out of her thoughts. “I don’t really do social media outside of work. Except for Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, and, of course, Second Chances. Though the 70-year-old divorcees and widowers are rarely ever my type.” She clumsily takes off my jacket while still buckled in and hands it back to me. “You know, that would be a valuable story. You could clean up the parks and your image.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“You enjoy being Clark too much?”
I do enjoy being Clark. Anonymity has a lot of advantages, but it’s not just that. “I don’t have to get credit for everything I do. Sometimes doing something good is pay enough.”
“How uncharacteristically noble of you.” Sienna hums with an expression of acknowledgment. “By the way, before I forget, you really shouldn’t violate rule #3. Just gets you in trouble in the long run.” She leans back in her seat and crosses her legs. “I should know.”
“Rule #3?” I ask as we slowly approach our destination.
“Never get caught. When you do something like what you did on the pier, do it secretly. Otherwise, you might get in trouble for doing the right thing… Clark.”
I’m almost a little disappointed that I am ‘Clark’ and not ‘Babe’ anymore. But also, is she implying that stealing my pants was justified? The right thing to do? She really is the worst. “Thanks for the tip,” I say, pretending to not be annoyed by her and her messed up moral compass. “What are the other rules?”
“Oh, it’s simple: Rule #1: harm no one, unless they actually deserve it. Rule #2: the punishment must fit the crime, though eyeballing is acceptable, and, well, you already know number three.”
