Page 76 of Karma Kitty Christmas
“They were almost the last things in the drawer,” he said. “Everything else was from before my growth spurt in eleventhgrade.” He glanced down at his bright blue sweats, grimaced, and in a conspiratorial whisper, added, “I’m going commando.”
Mari put her yellow-rubber-gloved hand over her eyes. “Oh my God.”
He scowled defensively. “Remember those times in college when I carried you over my shoulder to your dorms?” he asked. “You’ve puked on my ass, Mari.Puked on my ass.”
She took her hand off her eyes and grinned at him. “That’s my Milo,” she said, and he could swear she had hearts in her eyes. “I knew you were here somewhere. Good. Now I’ve already got a load of your bathroom stuff in, so set that down on the washer and go through your bills. Jesus God, I can’t even believe you held down a job in this mess.”
Milo tried not to groan. “Well, God bless working from home,” he said frankly before going through the connecting door to the garage and doing what she’d suggested with the laundry. When he’d climbed back up into the kitchen, he surveyed the mess again and let out a breath. “Believe it or not, I think I’ve gotten a few promotions.”
“Aw, my poor little graphic artist,” she chided. “Did you get all lost in your head to avoid your broken heart?”
“I’d tell you to go to hell,” he said, although they both knew he wouldn’t, not in a thousand years, “but….” He glanced around his duplex, thinking about the carefully chosen area rug and the leather furniture, the bright contrasting tiles on the floor, and the big holes in the wall where Stuart’s hideous “art investments” had been.
“I don’t know, baby,” she said with a sniff. “You’ve been here for two months. How’s the view from hell?”
“Boring,” he said, thinking about the artwork. He had his own in the garage. He should put that on the walls tomorrow. He resolved to do that. By himself. “Lonely,” he admitted, sitting atthe table with a sigh. She shoved his empty recycling bin next to him in a helpful manner.
“You want some music?” she asked. “Or a movie for background noise?”
“TheStar Trekreboots,” he said promptly.
“Three comfort movies coming up,” she said.
They knew the dialog by heart.
MARI COULDN’Tstay over on his couch that night because, in her words, she had eight furry food-vacuums she had to care for. Apparently two of the new ones needed medication too.
But by the end of the day, he had clean clothes for a week and more in the laundry, a clean kitchen, a bedroom he could walk through, and groceries.
And a dog.
Julia had followed them both throughout the day, watching them with interested, calculating eyes, and accepting their shows of affection with a sort of genteel grace.
It wasn’t until they sat down in the evening, both physically tired from cleaning and emotionally exhausted from hauling Milo inch by inch from the quagmire of his depression, that she showed any real personality at all.
“I’m sorry, Mari,” Milo said as she leaned on him and they watched the sun set through his newly fluffed and aired curtains. “I didn’t mean to suck up your time. You barely have enough as it is.”
“Shut up,” she mumbled, digging in. She wasn’t tall or wide, but she had a sort of weight about her that was, he suspected, entirely muscle and determination. It probably didn’t show up on a scale, but when she nestled, shenestled.“I should have seen it in August. I was busy, and God, Milo. You’re such an easy-care friend most of the time.I’mthe one who needed the trip to rehab in college.I’mthe one who needed her hand held at the abortionclinic when Calvin the creep bailed on me. This isn’t a sorry. It’s not a you-owe-me. It’s me being your Mari and you being my Milo, okay?”
He swallowed. “You’ll always be my Mari,” he whispered.
Stuart hated her. Milo remembered all the times he and Mari had met for lunch or gone to the movies, and Stuart hadn’t known he’d been with his bestie. Had never suspected either. One or two cutting remarks about, “Your little phone-clerk friend,” had made Milo simply… not involve Stuart in his life outside of Stuart. Thinking about it now, about how Stuarthadn’tliked Mari,hadn’tunderstood the two of them, their bond through high school and into college, through life changes and beyond—that should have clued him in, shouldn’t it?
It wasn’t even that Milo had lied, it was that Stuart had made him. Milo hadtoldStuart that he and Mari had come as a matched set, and Stuart had laughed and said sure, any friend of Milo’s was a friend of his.
And then Stuart hadn’t approved of her, had asked Milo to blow her off, had made whiny punkass bitch noises when Milo had said, “Okay, I’ll hang out with her. You don’t need to.”
And Milo had found it very easy to not involve Stuart with this part of his life.
Which was ironic seeing that Milo’s relationship with Mari had gotten so tight because that’s exactly what Milo’s parents had done toMilo.Just… justnot involvedthemselves with Milo’s life.
“We understand you feel compelled to live this lifestyle, Milo, but don’t expect us to be involved in it.”
So they hadn’t met Stuart, hadn’t approved of Mari either—something about her father working as a garage mechanic—and had mostly sent him birthday cards and invited him to Christmas dinners they’d been relieved he hadn’t attended.
“Milo?” Mari said softly. “Why did Stuart leave? You never told me.”
He sighed, remembering their last terrible fight when Stuart found out Milo had been giving money to help her keep her sister in a good care home for mentally ill adults since she’d first found the place.
