Page 42 of Hell Bent
“And you took care of your dad until he died. Because when the chips are down, you’re there. And because you can only live the day you’re in. Life isn’t a long-term plan, not really. That’s a fiction we tell ourselves to try to make it make sense. Life is just a … a series of choices, one after the other, that you make right now. With incomplete information, not knowing whether your head or your heart or even your body is driving the train, just doing what seems best. Doing what your character and your personality and your soul tell you to, trusting them to lead you home. That’s what you need to trust in now. In your goodness. In your brains. In your heart. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got this.”
“Wow,” he said. “You should be giving the pre-game talks.”
“And you’re finally sounding like yourself. So, hey. Ben and I will watch you play, and later on, we’ll go out to dinner. Since you can’t bring a dog to a restaurant, I’ll have to be the buffer zone.”
“I’m not going to be happy if this means I don’t get to kiss you,” he said. “I was kinda counting on that.”
“I’ll tell you a secret. So was I. I had the weirdest dream Christmas night,” I was somehow saying. “Possibly too much turkey.”
“Oh, yeah?” I’d distracted him, at least, because he sure sounded interested. “Tell me more.”
“I was a tiny fairy. Living in a flower.”
“Oh … kay.”
“There was a fairy prince, too. I don’t remember exactly, but I know it got steamy.”
“Between two fairies.” Now, he was smiling, I could tell.
“Major erotic elements,” I said, “which is just sick, if you ask me. My mind may be disturbed. Fair warning.”
“I’m not dressing up as a fairy prince,” he said. “That’s a hard no.”
“Aww.” I was laughing now. “Well, as we know, I’m not there, so it’s not a choice you’ll have to make. I just thought I’d tell you.”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“You’re welcome. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Yep,” he said. “And hey.”
“Yes?”
“If you wore something pretty again, that would make it easier, too.”
“You’re pushing your luck, boy.”
He laughed. “Always. You know what you’d look great in?”
“I cannot imagine. A black leather bustier? A garter belt? A gown and tiara?”
“Red. Like that dress you had on that first night. I about had a heart attack when I saw that thing for real, outside the restaurant.”
“Right. I’m dressing like that to go out for pizza with your nephew. Even if Ihadthat dress, I’d …”
“I didn’t say wearthat dress. But it could be inspiration. Possibly. If you wanted to make me feel better.”
“Manipulative,” I said.
“No. Honest. Hey, you told me about the fairy sex. I’m telling you about my favorite color on you. Sharing fantasies is highly recommended. Brings a couple closer, and lets the guy know what works for her. Although, fairies …”
I was laughing now. “I could be wearing a sparkly red minidress and six-inch stilettos out to dinner with you, and it still won’t mean I’m sleeping with you on Sunday.”
“Even if I kick a really, really long field goal?”
“Even so. But I could be mighty tempted.”
“Goals. Works for me. Sunday night. You and me.”
