Straight from the Heart

by Layce Gardner

  They paused in front of the panther’s pen. The big cat was sprawled in a patch of bright sunlight, napping. She opened one lazy eye and watched Amy and Rosa. She opened her giant jaws and yawned. Amy been right. She didn’t have any teeth.

  “I don’t want to go back to physical therapy,” Rosa said. She wheeled herself away from the panther pen and headed toward the pond. They passed a homemade sign that read: Don’t feed the snapping turtles. Management is not responsible for lost fingers.

  Dozens of snapping turtles sunned on logs and rocks around the pond. The turtles quickly dove into the water as the two women approached. Amy and Rosa watched the water ripple until, after a moment, little turtle heads popped up in the middle of the pond.

  “So don’t go back,” Amy said. “Nobody’s forcing you, right?”

  Rosa looked at her startled, as if that idea had never entered her mind. “But then I won’t learn to walk.”

  “You already know how to walk.”

  Rosa appeared to consider this.

  Amy continued, “Maybe you could do it yourself. Parker can make training equipment out of something and you can do the exercises with Steph.”

  “I don’t want that,” Rosa said. “Right now, I don’t want her help on anything. She’s already in my face constantly.”

  “And the physical therapist was a supreme asshole,” Amy said.

  “You got it.”

  A large snapping turtle crawled out of the water and lumbered slowly their way.

  “Maybe we should leave now,” Amy said, taking a step back.

  “No way. I’m tired of being pushed around. One big, fat turtle isn’t going to scare me away.” She wheeled fearlessly toward it, stopping about three feet in front of the turtle.

  Amy followed behind her. “Didn’t you see that sign? You could lose a toe.”

  “He’ll move,” Rosa said. She rolled closer to the turtle, stopping only inches away.

  But the turtle didn’t move. Instead, he lunged. His powerful jaws clamped onto the foot pad of the wheelchair.

  Amy squeaked. She had meant to scream, but it came out as more of a squeak.

  “Oh, for Chrissakes, now a turtle is screwing with me. Will it never end?” Rosa said. She moved the chair back and forth, from side to side, but the turtle refused to let go. “Go get a stick.”

  “What’re you going to do with a stick?” Amy asked.

  “Poke it.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Amy said.

  “You got a better idea?”

  Amy was silent.

  “That’s what I thought. Now, go get a stick,” Rosa ordered. She continued shaking her chair back and forth, but the turtle held on tightly.

  Amy ran over to the small copse of trees that bordered the pond. She found a stick, decided it wasn’t long enough, and tossed it aside. She rummaged in the leaves, looking for a longer stick.

  “Hurry!” Rosa called. “This damn reptile is going to devour my chair before you can get a damn stick!”

  Amy found a stick that was long enough. She hurried back to Rosa.

  “Well, don’t just stand there. Poke it,” Rosa said.

  “You poke it,” Amy said, offering her the stick.

  “I can’t, I don’t have the right leverage. It has to be you.”

  Amy looked petrified.

  “Don’t be scared. It’s just a turtle,” Rosa said.

  “A turtle with teeth.”

  “It doesn’t have teeth,” Rosa said.

  Amy looked at Rosa. She seemed to be weighing something in her mind.

  “What?” Rosa said.

  “I’m not poking that turtle until you promise you’ll let Parker help you with your physical therapy.”

  “Seriously?” Rosa said, spinning the wheelchair in big circles, dragging the heavy turtle behind it.

  “Seriously,” Amy said, holding the stick behind her back.

  “Okay, whatever. I’ll let Parker help. Just get this damn turtle away from me.”

  Amy stepped forward and gently poked the stick at the turtle’s tail.

  “What’re you doing?” Rosa said.

  “Trying to poke its butthole,” Amy replied.

  “Why?”

  “If somebody were poking a stick up your butthole, wouldn’t you run away?”

  “You have a point,” Rosa said.

  Amy jabbed the stick in the general vicinity of the turtle’s tail. His jaws opened and he let go of the foot pad. He turned and hissed at the stick. Then he went for the chair’s tire. Rosa tried to spin away. Amy poked the turtle again.

  That really pissed him off. He spun around toward Amy and ran at her. Well, as fast as a turtle can run. Which, as it turns out, is a lot faster than you think.

  Amy squeaked, dropped the stick, and ran.

  The turtle lumbered after her. After about five yards, he gave up the chase and headed back toward the pond.

  When Amy was fifty yards away, Rosa cupped her hands around her mouth and called out, “You can stop now! You outran him!”

  Amy stopped. She cautiously walked back to Rosa.

  “You were pretty fast there, Speedy Gonzales,” Rosa said.

  Amy cracked a smile. “Hey, isn’t that politically incorrect, calling me that?”

  “Not if you’re Mexican, it’s not.”

  They headed back to the van.

  “You’ll keep your word?” Amy asked.

  Rosa sighed. “Yes. I’ll let Parker help.”

  ***

  “She really said that?” Parker asked.

  Amy and Parker stood outside their house on the deck, wearing down parkas with hoods. Parker was grilling pork chops. The sun was down and it was well below freezing.

  Most people had winterized and stored their grills for the winter. But Parker wasn’t most people. She wanted to learn to cook. But all she could do was grill. At least that’s what she thought. She didn’t quite have the confidence to move from the outside grill to the inside stove. So, in the meantime, she put on her puffy coat and mittens and grilled on the deck.

  “Well, I kind of manipulated her into it,” Amy said, hopping from foot to foot to keep warm.

  Parker expertly flipped the pork chop with tongs. “And how did you do that?”

  “I refused to poke the snapping turtle that was attached to her chair by his jaws unless she did.”

  Parker laughed. “I would’ve killed to see that.”

  “Technically, I coerced her into it.”

  “You can be very persuasive.”

  “Especially when I poke a butthole with a stick,” Amy said.

  “I hope to never find out.” Parker put down the tongs. She turned to Amy and suddenly dropped to her knees.

  “Did you drop something?” Amy asked.

  “No.”

  Amy scanned the floor boards. “Then what’re you looking for?”

  “True love,” Parker answered.

  Parker held up a burgundy, velvet jewelry box and opened it. Inside was nestled a simple platinum band. Even though it didn’t have a single jewel, it sparkled under the deck’s flood lights.

  Amy gasped. “Oh my god. It’s beautiful.”

  Parker took another jewelry box out of her pocket. She opened it, revealing another identical ring. “I got one for each of us. I don’t know how this is supposed to work. I’ve never asked a woman to marry me before.”

  “Me either.”

  “It’s official then? You’ll really marry me?”

  “I really will,” Amy said.

  Parker slipped the ring on Amy’s finger before putting her own ring on. “We are officially engaged.”

  “Does this mean we get to have hot lesbian sex later?”

  “I hope so,” Parker said.

  Amy leaned down and kissed Parker. Then she whispered, “I have something very important to tell you.”

  “What?”

  “I think the pork chops are burning.”

  Chapter Eleven
>
  “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Rosa said.

  She was examining the physical therapy room that Parker had set up in the garage of her and Amy’s house. Parker had gone to Kansas City and purchased a stationary bike and a treadmill. Then she made parallel bars out of steel pipe, which she had welded together and bolted into the concrete floor.

  Parker had more time on her hands now that winter had set in. She did some remodeling jobs off and on, but right now she had a clear calendar. She had assured Rosa that they’d have plenty of time to work on her physical therapy.

  “Look, it’s either this or the P.T. guy. You know, the guy you told to fuck off,” Parker said.

  Rascal sat by Rosa’s side as if ready for her next command. She absentmindedly scratched behind his ears. “He was a Trump supporter.”

  “He told you that?”

  “No. But that’s a nicer way of saying he’s a misogynistic asshole,” Rosa said. Clayton, the therapist assigned to her, had been a bully. He bullied her because she was a woman and he automatically considered her weak. She was not weak; she was injured. That was a difference he didn’t seem to understand.

  Rosa looked around the garage at everything Parker had done for her. This was motivation. This was understanding. This was friendship. She decided right then and there that she would do the work. If not for her own sake, she would do it for Parker. She didn’t want to let Parker down, not after she had gone to so much time and trouble.

  “I’ve done a lot of research on how to properly do this. And I’ve also hired an instructor,” Parker said. “Because I’m not a professional. Her name is Anne. Anne will visit us once a week. She’ll show us what to do and monitor our progress. She will also fill out the necessary worker’s comp paperwork and make sure it’s sent in.”

  “You never cease to amaze me. But I don’t want Steph to know anything about this,” Rosa said as she wheeled around the small space looking at the equipment. Rascal followed close by her side.

  “Why not?”

  “Because she won’t agree with it. And we can’t tell Susan for the same reason,” Rosa said, giving the parallel bars a good shake. They were steady. Rascal put his nose to the bars and gave them a sniff. He deemed them safe, also.

  “Why wouldn’t Steph agree? It’s what she wanted,” Parker said. She adjusted the portable heater so it would aim more into the center of the room. The garage was insulated but still cold.

  “Because she thinks she knows everything,” Rosa said. “And Susan is even worse.”

  “I’m sensing some major anger issues,” Parker said.

  “Ya think?” Rosa said. She wheeled over to the stationary bike. “This is fancy.”

  Parker was not to be deterred. “Susan is a doctor. She may actually know more about this than I do.”

  “Susan is a buzzkill. I swear she’s decided that I’m never getting out of this chair.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because she thinks I don’t want to. The other day she tried to prescribe me antidepressants. Just what I need—more drugs. I hate taking the pain medication, but my back hurts so much most of the time I don’t have a choice. I’m going to end up being a pill head.”

  “Get her to prescribe a nonopioid drug.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “The internet. My friend has an injury. I want to help,” Parker said, stroking Rascal’s big head.

  Rosa noticed Parker’s ring. She grabbed Parker’s hand and examined the ring closer. “Whoa, what’s going on here?

  “We eloped.”

  Rascal raised up onto his hind legs, his paws on the parallel bars. He inched along on his hind legs, sniffing the top bar.

  “You did not elope,” Rosa said, her voice registering shock.

  “Just kidding. We’re engaged. We’re planning to have a spring wedding,” Parker said. “I’m looking at invitations.”

  “You’re planning it?”

  Parker nodded. “This kind of stuff overwhelms Amy, so I’m doing it. And I have more time.”

  “When are you going to tell everyone?”

  “We aren’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that would take the surprise out of it,” Parker said.

  “But you have rings on. People will notice.”

  “So every time someone notices, it’s a surprise.”

  “I’ll never understand you,” Rosa said.

  “That’s probably a good thing.”

  Rascal reached the end of the parallel bars and dropped to all fours. He bounded over to Parker who gave him a treat from her pocket. “If Rascal can do it, so can you,” Parker said.

  “Show off,” Rosa muttered to the dog.

  ***

  Anne Johnson stood, hands on her hips in the middle of the garage, and studied the setup. After she scrutinized every last detail, she nodded her approval. “You did a very good job, Parker.”

  “I followed your instructions to the letter.”

  “Parker says I’m going to like you,” Rosa said as she shook Anne’s hand.

  Rascal raised his paw. Anne laughed and shook his paw as well. “Smart dog.”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet,” Parker said.

  Rosa gave Anne the once over. She had short, light brown hair with blond highlights, and blue eyes. She wasn’t typically pretty, but was so self-assured and confident that seemed to translate to pretty. And it didn’t hurt any that her body was rocking hard. She even had those muscles in her shoulders that meant she lifted weights.

  “Will I get muscles like yours?” Rosa asked.

  Anne laughed. “Probably not, but you will regain your mobility, if you want to,” Anne said. “I’ve studied your injury. You were extremely lucky.”

  “Really? I’d hate to be unlucky,” Rosa said simply.

  “You could’ve been paralyzed,” Anne said. She reached into her black messenger bag and pulled out a file folder. “These are the exercises for the next week. I’ll show you and Parker how to do them and check back at the end of each week to mark your progress.”

  “You’re not going to stay here and personally torture me?” Rosa asked, accepting the folder that Anne handed her.

  “No, I’m going to leave that to Parker,” Anne said.

  Parker smiled and said to Rosa, “And you better be nice or I will expose your dastardly secret plan to your archnemesis.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Rosa said.

  “I would.”

  “Why are you doing this for me?” Rosa asked. “Why do you want me to walk so badly?”

  “So you can walk me down the aisle,” Parker said simply. “My wedding will not happen until you can do that.”

  “That kind of pressure is not playing fair,” Rosa said, but she beamed. She couldn’t help but feel a swelling in her heart for Parker. Love and happiness had been a long time coming for Parker. Rosa was glad her friend had found it.

  “No, it’s not fair,” Parker said. “Life is like that.”

  “Now, let’s get started,” Anne said.

  ***

  Amy dropped by Millie’s house for a pre-work coffee and chat several times a week. Millie was an early riser and a lover of sunrises, which was why Amy usually stopped by on her way to work. Because of Millie, Amy was slowly learning to like mornings.

  Amy let herself into Millie’s house with her own key. Millie always encouraged her to use the key and make herself at home. Amy liked to get the coffee prepared and put out whatever donuts or coffee cake she had brought before calling Millie to the table.

  This morning Amy found a surprise when she walked into Millie’s kitchen. Bernie was sitting at the table, dressed in men’s pajamas, sipping on a coffee.

  “Bernie? What’re you doing here?” Amy realized she sounded accusatory, so she changed her tone. “I mean, I’m glad you’re here. I brought a cheese Danish to go with that coffee.”

  Bernie laughed. “You’re probably wondering why I
’m here. I stayed over. We were up late. We binge watched The Walking Dead.”

  “I didn’t want her driving all that way back to Scofield in the dark. Us older gals don’t have the best night vision,” Millie said, entering the kitchen behind Amy.

  Before Amy could respond, the back door swung open and Mabel barged in with no fanfare. She cut straight to the chase, “Is that a cheese Danish you’re holding? I love a good cheese Danish.”

  Clara entered next. She said apologetically, “I’m trying to train her to knock but she hasn’t caught on.”

  Mabel waved her hand in the air. “Millie’s kitchen is always open to friends. And sometimes foes. I am referring to Edna.”

  Millie pulled out plates and forks and began to dish out the Danish. Clara pulled up a chair next to Mabel.

  “Edna is not a foe. She’s part of our team now,” Clara said.

  “The bingo team?” Amy asked. The last she had heard, their bingo team and Edna were sworn enemies.

  “That, and our militia. We’ve put aside our differences,” Mabel said. “For the time being,” she added under her breath.

  Amy busied herself putting a carafe of coffee, mugs, and condiments on the kitchen table. Ever since she had lived there last year, she felt compelled to help with hostessing duties.

  “That’s good,” Amy said. She had hoped Millie’s Militia had died down. Chief Bob Ed and his police officers were still trying to trace the drugs back to their source, but much of the case was being handled by the FBI because it crossed state lines. Millie’s Militia were intent on not letting the drug lords, as they referred to them, return to their town. So far, so good. They hadn’t shot anyone yet, but Amy was still frightened they might be the instigators of a modern day OK Corral.

  Millie set a pile of napkins on the table. “Don’t be shy. Help yourself,” she said.

  When Amy was pouring her own coffee, Mabel gasped, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

  “Are you choking?” Bernie asked.