Jessica

My goodness, Louis was going to spoil the little pup! By the time we made it to the checkout stand at the pet store, he’d filled the cart with a cozy bed, a reflective harness and leash set, a bag of specially formulated food, three types of treats, and enough chew toys, balls, and play ropes to satisfy an entire litter of puppies.

As the clerk rang up his purchases, I turned to him. “If I happen to die and be reincarnated, I want to come back as your pet.”

“If this is your way of asking for a belly rub,” he replied with a grin, “there’s no need to beat around the bush.”

At the suggestion of Louie touching me, I felt my cheeks flame again, giving my thoughts away. Ugh! I turned to the pegboard display next to the register and feigned interest in a pair of nail clippers. Plastic and metal. Three-year guarantee. Wow.

When we left the store, Stinker was wearing her new red harness attached to the matching leash. Louie attempted to walk her, but she grabbed the leash in her mouth and scampered to and fro, dragging him along with her. He reeled the leash in to pull her close and stopped, looking down at her. “I’m the boss, pup.”

I scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

Stinker looked up at him and issued an assertive yap.

“See?” I said. “She agrees with me.”

Louie reached down and scooped the dog up in his arms once again. Her earlier terror long forgotten, she raised her head and licked his face affectionately. “She might be in charge,” he said, “but at least she loves me.”

Now that we had her in a leash and harness, I held the puppy on my lap while Louie drove back to the school. There, he reattached the soft top to his Jeep to keep Stinker contained as he drove her to the station.

When he finished, I handed him her leash, gave her a peck on the snout, and bade Louie good-bye. “Take care.”

“You, too, Jessica.”

It was the first time he’d said my first name aloud, and hearing it in that basso profundo voice made me wonder what it would be like to hear him cry it during the throes of passion. If only . . . But it didn’t seem meant to be. He hadn’t asked for my phone number or e-mail address, and I certainly wasn’t going to offer my contact information unsolicited. I didn’t want to look desperate or easy. Looked like I’d been fooling myself, thinking he’d come to the school to see me. Clearly, he’d come only for the puppy’s sake. But that’s okay, I told myself. After all, there are many more fish in the sea.

I climbed into my car. As I started my engine, I saw his Jeep drive past in my rearview mirror. I also saw tears forming in my eyes.

Shit.

That’s what I got for getting my hopes up. Of course, some of my emotion belonged to the puppy. Stinker certainly was adorable. Would I ever see the little spotted dog again? I’d hardly spent any time with the pup, but the thought that she’d merely scampered through my life made me feel as sad and hollow as the thought that I’d never see Louie again. Those two had swept in and stolen my heart before I could even realize what was happening.

I spent the evening on the couch, eating a microwave burrito and watching sitcoms with Shirazi lounging in my lap, shedding all over my furniture and pajamas. As much as I adored my cat, his companionship was lacking in several regards. He contributed little to our conversations other than an occasional flick of his tail, and he’d wander off willy-nilly, leaving me all alone on the sofa. He also tended to relieve himself in the middle of the night, his scratch-scratch-scratching in the litter box waking me in the wee hours. Inconsiderate. I supposed I’d be less lonely at home if I had a human roommate, too, but that’s not what I really wanted. I was ready to settle down. I wanted a man. A husband I could plan a future with. One that included a house with a yard, two or three children, and movie nights snuggled up on the sofa with each other and a big bowl of popcorn. That wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

I went to bed feeling empty and isolated. I wonder if there’s someone in Louie’s bed tonight. He mentioned that he lived alone, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend who stayed over on occasion. Or maybe he stayed at her place. Heck, for all I knew he was rolling in the sheets with her right now. She probably had pink satin ones. Whoever she was, I envied her.

I closed my eyes tight as if that could shut out the mental image, put my pillow over my head, and heaved a deep sigh.

* * *

I woke Friday morning with a fresh outlook. Louie DeLuca wasn’t interested in me. So what? It was his loss. I was quite a catch and if he didn’t realize it, he was an idiot. A good-looking, sweet, courageous idiot. Ugh. I’d failed at my own pep talk.

Today in class we moved on to the letter H. I wrote a capital and lowercase H on the board. H for hot, like a fire. H for hero. H for him.

Dammit! No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t seem to get Louie DeLuca out of my head.

After we’d recited the pledge and the children had taken their seats, I clapped my hands once to get their attention. “Today we’re going to learn the letter H. H sounds like this.” I made a huh sound. “Let’s all do it together.”

Everyone repeated the sound. Huh. To keep things lively and fun for the kids, I said, “Okay, now let’s do it ten times real fast.”

Huh-huh-huh-huh-huh—It sounded as if we were hyperventilating. Some of the children broke into peals of laughter. I had to fight a laugh myself.

Huh-huh-huh—

The sound of the door opening drew all of our eyes. The gray-haired woman who managed the front office stepped in, an enormous basket wrapped in clear cellophane in her hands. The wrap was gathered up in a big red bow at the top.

“This came for you,” she said, thrusting it at me.

I took it from her. Through the transparent wrap, I could see that the basket was filled with apples of all varieties and colors. Red Delicious. Golden Delicious. Gala. Granny Smith. It wasn’t my birthday or another special occasion. Why would someone have sent this? Teachers occasionally received gifts from parents, but usually at the winter holiday break or the end of the school year, and usually only some type of small token, like a coffee mug. “Who’s it from?”

She raised her palms. “Delivery service dropped it off. Looks like there’s a card inside.”

I squinted into the reflective wrap. Sure enough, there was a white card tucked among the fruit. Untying the bow carefully so that the apples wouldn’t roll out of the basket, I reached in, pulled out the small envelope, and opened it to remove the card.

If you’re in a relationship, enjoy the apples. If you’re not, enjoy the apples and say you’ll come with me to see Doug Harrison’s band play tomorrow night.

Louie DeLuca

Louie had followed the message with his cell phone number.

Hunky fireman Louie DeLuca had asked me out? Holy pasta fagioli! I began to hyperventilate for real. Huh-huh-huh! Of course I’ll say yes, but should I text him or call him? What should I wear? How should I do my hair?

“Are you gonna share?”

Bethany’s voice jerked me back to reality. I looked down to see she’d rolled up in front of my desk, eyeing the apples.

“You always say that sharing is nice,” she insisted, giving me a grin.

My own words coming back to bite me in the butt. “That’s right, Bethany. Sharing is a nice thing to do.”

I glanced at the basket. There were more than enough apples for the class, and it would take me weeks to eat all of them myself. Besides, Louie’s thoughtful gesture and invitation were what really mattered. I reached into the basket, pulled out a red apple, and handed it to her. “There you go.”

Not to be left out, the other students immediately burst into cries of, “I want one!” “Me, too!” “How come she gets one and I don’t?”

I stood and grabbed the handle of the basket. “Everyone who’s working hard will get an apple,” I told them. “Now get back to your assignment, kiddos.”

Their heads went down, each of them carefully tracing the letter H on the handout. I wandered up and down the rows, placing an apple on each desk. When I’d finished my rounds, five remained. Just enough to make an apple pie.

I floated through the rest of the day, giddy with excitement. In the cafeteria, I sidled up to Tasha, who also had lunch duty today. “Guess who sent me a basket of fruit and asked me to go see a band with him this weekend?”

Her brown eyes popped wide. “The fireman? Mister stop, drop, and roll?” When I nodded, she squealed. “Good for you! You better be ready to give me all of the dirty details on Monday.”

Not wanting to appear too eager, I waited until that evening to get in touch with Louie. I decided to text rather than call. Phone calls could be awkward when you didn’t know someone well. It was much easier to carry a conversation in person. Of course, I agonized for several minutes over how to phrase my response. It’s a date! seemed too anxious and cutesy. Let’s do it carried a sexual undertone. I finally settled on:

How’s Stinker? The band sounds great. Count me in. Thanks for the apples. I’m baking a pie.