by Hammond, T.
David helped me back into the passenger seat. He pressed a quick kiss on my nose, and told me he'd see me at five.
Janey put the car in drive and inched away from the curb. I turned to her and asked, “Did you get the number of the big-assed truck that just hit me?”
“Oh, Girlfriend,” she sighed, “you've got your hands full with that one.”
Soon after Janey pulled into traffic my brain reengaged. Thankfully it wasn't gone; it had only short-circuited. Silly brain.
“Side trip,” I told her. “We need to stop at the Evil Empire,” a reference to my favorite big-box store. “I need a few personal items and I don't want to send your lecherous boyfriend out to get them.”
Chapter Ten
It was a beautifully warm day, mild for summer. I wandered out to the back yard for a game of fetch with Red. It didn't take us long to figure out I threw like a girl. Well, duh! For some strange reason, I've always seemed to throw harder sidearm than overhand; I was soon sending Red on some serious runs off into the bushes.
Strength doesn't always equate to accuracy, especially when the thrower is sight impaired. When he complained, I gave Red a choice: he could either have a more challenging game, or I could go easy on him and start making sissy tosses again. He manned up and was soon racing off after another wild throw. It will be our little secret my aim is much better than I let on. (Insert devilish chuckle.)
After one particularly vigorous heave, I tugged my cell phone out of my breast pocket and sat on the porch steps. Janey had been considerate enough to program Bas and David's cell numbers into my phone—speed dials 24 and 25 respectively. I took a deep breath and made the dreaded call to Bastian, assuming he would ignore my call and let it go to voice mail. If I were him, I wouldn't want to be talking to me right now.
“Yeah.” he said abruptly, giving no indication he knew it was me.
“It’s Teresa. I called to apologize,” I sighed, and reminded myself to be the grown up. “I was out of line, and unnecessarily rude. I'm sorry, Bas. We need to come to some type of an accord. Janey is important to both of us and I'd like to think we could try to be civil around her. I’m hoping you’ll agree to come over for coffee this weekend, so we can talk.”
The silence on his end of the line was total. I couldn't even make out any background noise, such as a TV or radio, to indicate if he'd made it back to his room yet. “An accord, huh? You're the only woman I know who not only understands that word, but can use it properly in a sentence.”
Don't say it! The effort to comment about his type of women was powerful and biting. If you can't say something nice...
Hopefully correctly interpreting my quiet battle, he tried again, “I'm actually a couple of houses away. I was on my way over to apologize to you.” Totally did not expect that.
I closed my eyes, cringing inside that I'd have to face Bastian so soon. Geez, it wasn't even noon yet. I hoped to work my courage up over the course of a couple days.
A ball dropped lightly on my foot before Red leaned his face up to mine and licked my chin, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered him, realizing too late the phone was still next to my cheek, so I was answering Bas, also. In a stronger voice I repeated, “Yeah. I'll put coffee on and see you in a few minutes.” I disconnected the call.
While I prepared the coffee, I told Red about what happened in the car earlier. He was all growly and protective, which I found amusing and completely adorable. It was also reassuring how much we had bonded in a matter of days. “Don't minimize my concern, Teresa,” he chided me. “This man threatened you. He could be dangerous.”
“We've had our differences over the years, Red, but he has never tried to hurt me. Remember when you told me if the cat runs, you have the impulse to chase it? I was acting like a scared cat. I think Bas couldn't help himself either. It doesn't make his behavior right, but I’m very confident he won’t hurt me.”
The knock on the door was firm. Three sharp raps, then silence. “Be nice,” I told Red, with a frown before opening the front door. As I stepped back from the doorway, I greeted, “Come on in, Sebastian.”
“You let just anyone in? How’d you know it was me?” Charming, he was back to being Bas the Ass and I hadn't even closed the door behind him yet. An oversight I remedied with a little more force than was necessary.
“I recognized your knock; besides who else would it be? You were minutes away, I was expecting you, and if you were not you, I'd have my dog scare you away.” Red growled obligingly. “Bastian, meet Red. Red, this is Bas, Janey's brother.”
Red stood attentively at my side. I thanked him for the support with an affectionate scratch on the top of his head with one hand, while indicating hooks by the door with the other and suggesting Bas hang up his jacket, if he was wearing one. While I listened to the rustle of fabric, I warned, “Be careful what you say under your breath. Red's got great hearing and I don't want him picking up new swear words.”
Bas chuckled, “You don't want me teaching your dog to swear?”
“Red talks to me. Since you're family, in a matter of speaking, I'm surprised Janey hasn't mentioned it to you yet.”
“Oh, Janey said you talked to your dog, she forgot to mention he talks back.”
“Trust me, he talks back at every opportunity,” I assured with a smile. “Coffee?” I wandered toward the kitchen and Red fell into step beside me guiding my steps with his body. “Do you still take yours black?”
“Black is fine, thanks.” His voice was getting closer as he spoke. I poured coffee into two mugs using a combination of long practice, and a fingertip curled over the edge to let me know if I got too close to the rim. I held myself still as he reached across me before turning at the waist to place the pot on the heating element. “I've got them both,” he told me. “Table or sofa?”
“Errrr, sofa is good.” I decided.
My dog tittered at me, “He totally sniffed your hair.”
“Did not!” I protested, sounding like a two-year old.
“Didn't what?” Bas asked. His voice was projected forward, so I knew he hadn't turned around or stopped on his way into the living room. Red's fur against my leg was comforting, so I gave in to impulse and ran my hand over his coat, scratching with a little more force behind the ear.
“Red's being a trouble-maker,” I glared at the dog. Total waste of time, as the hand I still had on his head was body language not matching my words. It was becoming increasingly clear Red was correct in his confusion about words and posture not matching. Taking my hand away, I threatened, “We are going to have words.”
Yep, I'm sure he just gave me a mental raspberry. “And will the conversation involve withholding treats and doggie bags?”
“Mmm, no. But, we could have a discussion about neutering. You were mighty curious the other night.” I retorted from my position of superiority.
Red stopped dead in his tracks. “Now that's simply mean. You can't threaten a trip to the vet every time I'm winning an argument.” His tone became cute. “I am soooo looking at you with adoring eyes. Your heart would be melting right now if you could see me.”
“Don't try to get on my good side, you sweet talker. You're stirring up trouble and you know it. Besides, you aren't winning anything because there is no argument. Do you know why? Because, I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person.” Oooh, I gave myself mental points for quoting my favorite coffee mug. Who knew I'd be able to use it in a real quarrel?
“This is me turning my back on you and giving you the cold shoulder.”
I couldn't help it, I laughed. “And, how is pouting supposed to be affective when I can't see you doing it?”
“Well, ask the Bas-hole. I'm sure he'll tell you what I'm doing.”
At his quip, gentle amusement turned into full hilarity; I could feel tears threatening. Oh. My. Gosh! Why have I never thought of calling him Bas-Hole? It was classic, though totally inappropriate for the moment since I was trying to make
nice. Still, I was positive future opportunities would present themselves. “Remind me to get you an extra treat for that one.” Bending over in a softer voice so our guest wouldn’t overhear, I clarified, “I'm jealous I didn't think of Bas-hole first.”
Directing my attention to the couch area, “Well Bastian, it appears Red wants to draw you into our squabble. Can you confirm my dog is, indeed, giving me the cold shoulder?”
“I cannot confirm or deny what he's thinking, but he is facing away from you. It does look like he's deliberately ignoring you.” Bas drawled with a tinge of humor in his voice. “And, he yawned.”
I got swatted in the ankle with a bushy tail. “Hey! You bonehead,” I protested. Putting my hand out at Red's head height, I requested, “Come on, get me to the couch then you can continue to sulk if you want to.”
Red brushed his head against my hand and prompted me closer to my coffee cup. Good dog. Once I was curled up on a corner of the sofa, “Your coffee is on the table,” he directed. I reached out and he clarified, “No, the other way.” His nose pressed to my wrist to adjust my hand sweep, until I connected to the ceramic mug, which was a little farther left then I assumed.
Red lay down against the couch and placed his chin on my ankles, I'm sure it was so he could stare up at me adoringly. Pouting apparently forgotten, it struck me he probably still remembered I was anxious about this visit. “Thanks Red.”
“Very strange.” Bas commented. “I have never seen an animal do something so...” he searched for the right word, “specific? It’s one thing to lead you to the couch, it’s a whole new level when he moves your hand to locate something you didn't tell him you wanted.”
Grinning, “Red knows by now, I always need coffee in my hand,” I explained, taking a long sip.
“So, what was the not-argument about?” Bas asked in an almost friendly manner.
I choked on the swallow of coffee I’d taken. Yeah, my dog's laughter filled my head. “I'll go get you a towel,” he offered, moving away from the couch and returning a moment later to lay a dish towel on my leg.
Stalling maybe, but it took a moment to mop up the coffee I’d spilled onto my hand and, under the direction of my ever-helpful dog, the few spots which trickled onto my t-shirt. Having decided, I turned to Bas and answered truthfully, “Red told me when we were at the counter you smelled my hair. I was disagreeing and calling him a trouble maker.”
“Well, I'll admit I caught a whiff of your shampoo when I reached over for the cups. Something fruity, smelled nice.”
“See!” Red crowed.
“I'm starting to believe you can really talk to your dog, although it’s a leap to believe he talks back to you.”
“He can't read, color identification is a bit inconsistent since dogs can't see red or green like we do, and we have figured out he doesn't count accurately above four. But, he's been exposed to quite a bit, and is good with items around the house.” I paused to think for a moment. “He is very good at describing things, but it has to be in the context of something he has experienced or smelled. And, he's teaching me about body language, not that it’s going to benefit me, since I can't see. It’s interesting to experience the world the way he sees it. He has some pretty strong opinions about people sniffing each other.
“Go ahead and point out something to him. Red can tell me what it is.”
Bas was silent as he thought things through. “I'm going to collect a few things from around the room and bring them back to the coffee table,” he said. “Want a top-off on your mug while I'm up?”
In answer, I held out my cup. I noticed he was careful not to touch me as he lifted it out of my hand. Bas wandered around the room, stopping often, presumably to examine or pick up an item. Within a few minutes, I could hear him at the coffeemaker before he wandered back to the couch. A soft multi tap-thud indicated he had placed a number of items on the coffee table.
Another, shorter interval, before he returned, “Hand out,” he instructed, “I have your coffee.” He gently folded my outstretched fingers around my mug, placing it in my hand the way I usually held it, handle away from me.
“Okay,” he started, “I picked up a few things. Your dog, Red, can tell you what they are when I point at them.” There was a bit of scraping and tapping as he rearranged them on the coffee table in front of me.
Bas must have pointed at something because Red told me, “It’s your fish.”
“Murphy, my betta.”
An acknowledging grunt was all Bastian offered.
“I don't know what that's called,” Red told me as Bas indicated another item. “It was on the kitchen table.”
“Hold on a sec, Bas. Red doesn't know the name for this. Let me ask him a few questions first.”
“Red, is it big or small?”
He considered this for a moment and asked, “Compared to what?”
I chuckled, “I'll try to be more specific. Is it a decoration?”
“No.”
“Have you seen me or Ken use it before?”
“Yes.”
“How did we use it?”
“Ken made it in pieces and he put his glass on a piece when he was in the chair by the window.”
I considered the possible items which would be on the kitchen table. “Ah, it’s called a coaster. There are six pieces in a holder. When we use coasters, we take a piece, a coaster, out of the holder and put it under our cup or glass. It protects the furniture. It’s like the mat we have on the floor under your food and water dishes to protect the floor from drips.”
Bas' hand must have moved over something else. “It’s a picture of you and Janey. He took it out of his wallet.”
It struck me as odd Bas had a picture of Janey and me which he carried around with him, until I remembered him saying something about all the pictures his sister sent had both of us in them. “Red says you're pointing at a picture from your wallet,” I said by way of identifying the object. “I'm surprised you didn't chop off the half with me in it.”
Bas' voice was quiet, “You seem to have this preconceived idea that I hate you, or something. It's a nice picture. Of both of you,” he added. “Janey sent it a few years ago when I was overseas.”
“He's pointing at a box,” Red told me, to let me know the game continued. “I don't know what it is, but it was next to your purse on the kitchen counter.”
I ran the limited possibilities through my brain, “Oh crap!” I said, “Please tell me I didn't leave what I think I did on the counter.” Unfortunately, if it was next to my purse, there was only one answer since I was at the store to buy a personal lubricant. “I left the Astro-Glide next to my purse.” I muttered, more to myself than in identification. “Really, Sebastian? Couldn't you have grabbed a spoon or something instead?”
“Truthfully, I never thought you'd get this far into the guessing game, and come on, it was right there.”
He was laughing at me. In good humor, and not spitefully, which was a positive. I can't say I blamed him, I handed him the ammunition. Speaking of which... I soooo did not want to have a talk about the things I shared with Cat. This really was the perfect opening though.
“Sebastian,” I started, “I need to talk with you about the stuff I said when I was at Janey's on Tuesday.”
Chapter Eleven
Aww man, how do you even begin a conversation like this? Well, I always have been a “jump right in” kinda gal. Cannonball!
“You do realize I didn't know there was anyone at Janey's the other morning. Right?”
“Yeah,” he replied, sounding as uncomfortable as I was, “it didn't take me long to catch on.” There was amusement in his voice. “Is it a habit? I mean, the going to Janey's house so you can talk to Cat? I think it was very nice of you to give her a heads up she was in for a sleepless night.”
I made a quick replay of my Cat chat and felt mildly relieved he apparently came into the conversation AFTER I cataloged the nightstand drawer.
“I woke up a little before
you got to that part.”
… orrrr not. I took a fortifying swallow of coffee and swung my legs to the floor. Huh, I wonder where the dog went to? Reaching forward, I placed the mug on the coffee table then put my elbows on my knees and cradled my head in my hands. We were both adults, right? Granted, Bas had a hell of a lot more experience, and one would presume at this point he was pretty jaded. While I was terribly embarrassed, he was probably mildly entertained by my ignorance.
“You're hiding again,” Bas pointed out in amusement, rather than annoyance this time.
“Yes, yes I am. And, blindness aside, I will probably never look you in the face again as long as I live.” I inhaled a large gulp of air, but the added oxygen to my brain did not help at all.