by J. J. Murray
I’m already missing you. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
She turned the key, opened the door, and ran up her steps. She turned and saw Dylan peering up at her through the entrance window.
I will see you tomorrow.
“Tomorrow” is an excellent word, too.
Chapter 9
I must be getting soft, Hope thought. I let him walk me all this way and didn’t invite him in. I know he didn’t want to spoil anything. Nothing wrong with that. He told me if he did come up, we’d be up all night. We would have talked some more, and I would have listened some more, and then . . .
And then . . .
She sighed. I have no idea what would have happened.
Hope fed Whack and looked at her soft bed. I am too tired to create, but I’m too wired to sleep.
She microwaved a mug of water, found a stray Red Rose tea bag hiding in a box in the cupboard, dunked it until the water turned brown, added five teaspoons of sugar, and began writing:
Outside: Woman with a bandaged toe . . . Inside: Miss Ill Toe
Outside: Woman with missiles for toes . . . Inside: Missile Toes
Outside: Goat with a bow on . . . Inside: Season’s Bleatings
Outside: Fist w/Xmas tree tattoo hitting a face . . . Inside: Season’s Beatings
Outside: Vampire w/ long hair biting elf . . . Inside: Season’s Bleedings
Outside: Christmas office party, drunks . . . Inside: Season’s Meetings
Outside: Dreadlocked woman with hair to the floor . . . Inside: Hairy Christmas
Outside: Man shoveling dirt over tree and presents . . . Inside: Bury Christmas
Outside: Elf milking cow . . . Inside: Dairy Christmas
Outside: Santa, reindeer, sleigh, Santa passes gas; word bubble: “Oh, excuse me”; reindeer grimacing . . . Inside: Airy Christmas
“Déplaisant!” Hope said to Whack.
Whack only blinked.
“That means ‘nasty’ or ‘unpleasant,’ Whack, old girl,” Hope said. “I am a stinker just like you.”
Hope worked long into the night drawing each cover as simply as possible with bold lines. She gave big bug eyes to the animals. She decided against using any stick figures and made Santa extremely large, his flab leaking out over the edges of his sleigh.
Now what can I do about poinsettias? If I’m going to trash Christmas, I have to trash it all. Why would a mostly poisonous plant be the traditional “flower” for this preposterous holiday?
She went online and looked up the poinsettia legend. In Mexico in the 1500s, Hope learned, a poor little girl wanted to give a gift to celebrate Christ’s birth, but she had nothing to give. An angel appeared and told the little girl to gather weeds and put them in front of the altar at her church. Red, leafy “blossoms” grew out of the weeds, and poinsettias were born.
The story, while a little peculiar, is too beautiful to ruin. Give what you can, and beauty will follow. Hmm. Maybe I can do a “real” card with that thought one day.
Just not tonight.
She slid her latest “masterpieces” inside the FedEx mailer and then slid herself under her soft covers.
Give what you can.
Beauty will follow.
Maybe I am getting soft.
She shrugged and turned off her light.
Soft sure does beat hard and bony, though.
OCTOBER 16
Only 69 more shopping days until Christmas . . .
Chapter 10
Washington Avenue jarred Hope’s knees and bones as she ran to work on Friday, her FedEx mailer securely under her arm. After she picked up Dylan’s coffee from Prospect Perk Café, however, she slowed to a fast walk as she turned up Flatbush Avenue.
You should never spill your partner’s coffee. She noticed light-brown coffee bubbling through the top. I suppose it’s okay to shake his coffee, though. Otherwise, his last sips will be straight sugar.
Under the purple awning at Kinderstuff, Hope waved at Dylan through the window. Dylan came to the door, took his coffee, handed her a zip disk, and pulled a folded piece of paper from his back pocket.
Hope blinked. “Good morning.”
“Oh, sorry,” Dylan said. “Good morning, Hope, and thank you for the coffee. It’s been a crazy morning.” He looked inside. “I was on my own until half an hour ago.”
“Yikes.” I was on my own until I met you, Dylan. Yikes!
Dylan unfolded the paper. “This is a printout of all the orders that need to be made today. Name of card, number of copies. All of Odd Ducks’ cards are on the disk.”
Hope scanned the list and saw more than twenty new orders for her “Santa’s Knee” cards. Yes!
“Did you sleep well?” Dylan asked.
“Yes.” The three hours I got.
“That coffee kept me up all night,” Dylan said. “You were right about it being strong.” He took a sip. “I’ll need it even more today.”
At least something kept you up all night, Hope thought. It should have been me. “Did you make any new cards?”
Dylan shook his head. “I had a lot of labeling and packaging to do, so I only made one. You have some more for me?”
Hope patted her mailer. “Only ten.”
Dylan smiled. “Another collection?”
“You could call it ‘The Pun Before Christmas,’ ” Hope said. “Or ‘O Christmas Pun.’ ”
“I like that,” Dylan said. “Ten. Wow. Make two more and we can do ‘The Twelve Puns of Christmas.’ ” He narrowed his eyes. “And you said the coffee didn’t keep you awake.”
It wasn’t just the coffee. “I felt inspired.” By you.
“I may never catch up to you,” Dylan said. “But that’s fine with me. As soon as you e-mail them to me, I’ll put them online and watch the numbers when I can. Don’t be surprised if I e-mail you with more orders. Can I take a peek?”
At what, you naughty boy? You couldn’t see much today. I’m wearing a loose sweater. Hope held the mailer tightly to her side. “It’s a surprise.”
Dylan sighed. “See you at lunch then. Aniya and I will be preparing it shortly.”
“What’s on the menu?” Hope asked.
“It’s a surprise.” Dylan winked. “I’d hug you, but then you might, you know, drop your work, and then I’d have to pick it up and accidentally look at it.”
Hope wrapped her free arm around Dylan’s neck, Dylan’s arms wrapping around her waist. “You’ll see them soon enough.” She stepped back. “See you at lunch.”
She turned, straightened her shoulders, and strode up Flatbush. After half a block, she peeked behind her. He’s still watching me go. I have to wear some tighter jeans.
When she arrived at Thrifty, the door was locked, the store dark. She looked through the window at the clock inside. I’m right on time. Where’s Justin? She glanced up and down Flatbush until she saw Justin waddling away from the subway entrance.
“Bay-it,” she whispered.
“Sorry I’m late,” Justin said as he unlocked the door two minutes later. “The train was crowded today.”
Take an earlier train, Hope thought.
Once Justin had safely locked himself behind the office door, Hope got to work, scanning her drawings, saving them as jpegs, and attaching them to an e-mail to Dylan with the message:
I hope you like these, my silent knight. Get it? :) I’ll try to think up two more. Hope
After sending the e-mail, Hope hurriedly doodled an obese knight in shining armor with his lips stapled together. On the inside she wrote, “Silent knight, roly-poly knight.”
That makes eleven. Just one more. What’s another Christmas carol I can ruin?
She smiled, quickly sketching a little circular town surrounded by word bubbles. In half of the word bubbles, she wrote “Beth?” or “Beth!” In the remaining bubbles she wrote “Ahem!” On the inside, she wrote “O Little Town of Beth Ahem.”
Oh, these are brutal.
She scanned them in, save
d them as jpegs, and attached them to another e-mail to Dylan with the message:
Two more to make a dozen. Why’d I do them? Be Claus . . .
Hope
After sending that message, she checked out Dylan’s new drawing called “Found.” It featured a simple drawing of a black hand holding a white hand, and on the inside, Dylan had handwritten this line: “Love what you do, and love will find you.”
That’s so unexpected and sweet, and I inspired it. At least I hope I inspired it. I don’t know if I agree with the sentiment, though. I always thought that you had to go out and find love, but here’s a man who believes that love will find you if you’re doing what you love to do.
She printed out a copy of “Found” and posted it on the bulletin board near the phone. That really should go up on my refrigerator.
Hope had barely started sending the new order of cards to print when an e-mail flashed into her in-box:
Where do you get these insanely funny ideas? No. Don’t tell me. It will ruin the SURPRISE. :~) They’re sensational! But you already knew that. I’ll have them up and running now under “The 12 Puns of Christmas” in an hour. See you at lunch. Aniya says hi. Oh, and plea$e run more copie$ of the following card$ ...
Hope crossed out half the old numbers on the printout, adding at least three to each order. She looked out into the store as Kiki arrived. I’m glad she’s here. I couldn’t do any of this if I were juggling real customers.
Hope spun in her chair, rolled to the counter with one kick, pulled a stack of work orders from under the counter, and walked her chair back to the mainframe. Then she started writing work orders for more than two dozen separate cards. She was halfway through the first one and stopped writing.
This is silly. These should all go on one work order. One customer, one work order. There’s not enough room on this sheet for all of these, though. Maybe I’ll use two or three and simply number them as I go. It would be easier to create a larger document for larger orders.
Hope was on a third page when Kiki asked, “What are you writing, Hope?”
Hope smiled. I’m writing hope, Kiki. I hope the money I make from these cards will get me into my beach house before I’m old and wrinkly. “Some work orders.” She rose and began shooting finished cards through the Baum.
“Did they all come in overnight?” Kiki asked.
Hope nodded. Well, they did.
“And they are all half-paid or paid in full?” Kiki asked.
Hope hesitated before nodding again. Sort of.
Kiki looked through some of the folded cards. “But are not these Mr. Healy’s orders? He usually comes in to pay for them in the evening. Unless he has already been here, he could not have paid.”
What’s the American expression? Oh, yes. I’m busted. “They’re actually Mr. Healy’s and mine. We’ve gone into business together.” I’m an Odd Duck now. “And they’ll all be paid in full by closing, I promise.” I hope.
Kiki laughed. “This one is good. ‘I want a boyfriend on the side. Ho! Ho! Ho!’ ” She smiled. “These drawings are so much better.” She read another. “And so is the humor. You did these.”
“Yes.”
Kiki nodded. “You have talent, too much talent to work here.” She read several others. “They are obviously selling.”
“Yes.”
Kiki dragged her stool closer to Hope. “Good. So how did you and Mr. Healy become partners?”
I can’t say, “He saw a doodle I made,” though it’s true. “He liked a drawing I did, the stick figure girl with dreads.”
“Oh, I like her,” Kiki said. “She looks like you, so skinny.”
I’m not skinny. I’m slim. “And after that, he made me an offer I could not refuse.”
“The money is good?” Kiki asked.
“Isn’t all money essentially good?” Hope said.
“Of course.” Kiki laughed. “Do you need any help?”
“I’m okay,” Hope said, moving from the DocuTech to the Baum and back.
“What is Mr. Healy like?” Kiki asked.
“He’s easy to work with,” Hope said, smiling at Kiki.
“Yes, I imagine he would be,” Kiki said. “He is, as they say, easy on the eyes. So handsome. Such long hair. So tall.”
Uh-oh.
“And I know that his first name is Dylan, Hope.” Kiki crossed her arms. “You thought your secret was safe. Mr. Healy is Dylan, and yesterday you kicked me out of the store so you two could be alone.”
Hope sighed. “Sorry about that.”
“Do not be,” Kiki said. “He is very cute.”
Hope squinted.
“Oh, do not squint so much,” Kiki said. “I have been with men, and I have enjoyed being with men. I like to think they enjoyed being with me.” She shrugged. “This Dylan is a cute, handsome, sexy man.” She hopped off her stool and looked over the work orders. “Your discount saves you a great deal of money.”
“To increase our profits.” The last cards popped out of the DocuTech, and Hope fed them into the Baum.
Kiki shook her head. “I am wondering if Mr. Healy is not taking advantage of you to get this discount.”
I want him to take advantage of me! “He’s not taking advantage of me. I am doing this of my own free will because the money is outstanding, and I get other kinds of compensation, too.”
Kiki smiled. “You must tell me.”
Hope started separating and bagging the cards. “I get bonuses. Lunch and dinner so far. We went out to Taro Sushi last night.” She frowned. “We probably won’t do sushi again.”
“And then what did you two do?” Kiki asked.
“He walked me home.” He touched my fingertips, and gave me a hug, and let me go up into my apartment alone . . .
“And then . . .” Kiki nodded. “Did you two . . .”
Hope shook her head, but she kept a smile on her face. “He went to his place, and I went to mine, but I’m okay with it because we are taking it slowly.”
Kiki sighed. “Or he is taking advantage of you. He takes you out to eat, and your discount saves him enough money to more than pay for dinner.”
Why does she doubt Dylan’s motives so much? “It’s not like that, Kiki. I do get paid. I get half of everything. It’s in our contract.”
“And you have this contract in writing?” Kiki asked.
Hmm. Not yet. “He said he would type it up.”
“And the government says it is here to help you,” Kiki said. “You had better straighten that out now.” She pointed to the phone on the wall. “Call him.”
Hope stood, took the phone, and dialed Kinderstuff. “Dylan Healy, please.”
After a few minutes, with joyous laughter in the background, Dylan said, “Dylan Healy at your service.”
What a strange greeting. “Dylan, I know you’ve been busy, but have you typed up our contract yet?”
“Yes,” Dylan said, “but my ink ran out last night before I could print it out. All those labels sucked the cartridge dry, and it’s your fault. Let me e-mail it to you so you can print it out there. Give me a sec.”
“Okay.” She covered the mouthpiece. “He’s e-mailing it to me now.”
Kiki blinked.
“Sending it now,” Dylan said. “See you in about ninety minutes.”
“Can’t wait,” Hope said.
“Bye.”
Hope hung up the receiver, went to the mainframe, clicked on a new e-mail, and downloaded and printed the attachment. She held it in front of Kiki. “He even scanned in our signatures.”
“Okay, okay,” Kiki said. “I am not one to trust a man, okay? He is doing right by you so far, but why are you taking it slow?”
“I’m older and wiser now,” Hope said. “I’m in no hurry to repeat my mistakes.”
Kiki waved her hand at Hope. “You two are not old. Going slow is for the old. Who decided not to continue the night, you or Dylan?”
“He did.”
Kiki’s eyes widened. “And you
agreed?”
Hope nodded.
“I do not understand you, Hope,” Kiki said. “You want him, yes?”
“Yes,” Hope said. “Eventually.”
“Hmm,” Kiki said. “If you want him, you take him.”
Hope sat in her chair, swiveling back and forth. “It’s not that simple. I have some . . . baggage.”
“We all have baggage,” Kiki said. “Take him and throw the baggage out.”
Hope laughed. “Just throw it out?”
“Yes, like the trash,” Kiki said. “Take him and maybe the baggage will disappear.”
Or maybe it will multiply. “I will try again soon to take him.”
“Tonight?” Kiki said. “After the show?”
She really wants me to go to this show! “Maybe.” Hope sighed. “Will you be leaving early again?”
“So you two can be alone?” Kiki said. “I think I will stay.”
Hope frowned.
Kiki laughed. “I can see from your long face that you do not want me around, but that is okay. I will be leaving much earlier today anyway.”
“How much earlier?” Hope asked.
“I think . . . now.” Kiki pushed her stool to the counter. “I did not finish posting the flyers. On-Gee could not help. Problems with the stage lights and only On-Gee can fix the stage lights. She will be able to help me today. She can put the flyers up much higher than I can.” Kiki nodded to the office door. “You will cover for me?”
“He is bay-it,” Hope said. “He will not even notice you are gone.”
Kiki started for the front door. “I will see you and Mr. Healy tonight.”
“I don’t know,” Hope called after her. “Maybe.”
Kiki stopped and walked back to the counter. “No. There is too much ‘maybe’ in your life, Hope. You will come, and you will bring your business partner who you want to be your partner in ah-go-nee. Agreed? I will not leave until you say, ‘Okay, Kiki, you know best.’ ”
Kiki is a trip. “I will try.”
Kiki shook her head. “Say ‘Kiki, you know best.’ ”