Free Me and Mom Fall for Spencer by Diane Munier

Cyro’s chair to him?” he says.
    “Maybe Mom did,” I say. If she didn’t,
I’ll take it later.
    “Well…I’ll see you later,” he says.
      He
pulls on my braid and as he walks away he’s singing about a girl who is a
dog-walking girl, and one thing, I’m giving him lots of verses.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    Me and Mom Fall for
Spencer
    Chapter Eleven

 
    I wheel Cyro’s chair over, get it on the porch. He’s in there. Jason is a long time at work
already. Then I run home and get his food, take that back over. I can’t help
but feel Spencer’s eyes on me. It’s purely imagination on my part cause I know he’s not on the porch.
    It’s funny how I have to remember not to
stare at Frieda’s house now. My habit all these years is looking there, always
looking at it. And now I have to remind myself not to so Spencer doesn’t catch
me gawking at the place.
    I still have to pick my garden. I don’t
know where Mom is, probably shopping or over with Christine hearing all the
details about my boss.
    I grab my baskets off the porch. I
pretty well stripped my green beans, and that’s the most time consuming, but
I’ll have to cut okra cause that’s ready every day. I’m going to make a big pot
of vegetable soup, that I do know.
    So I’m in my garden and there he is at
the fence giving me a heart attack like usual. “Sarah?”
    I look at him and he’s holding a towel. “My
kitten is sick.”
    I’m kneeling by the eggplant, holding my
knife cause if you’ve ever tried to snap an eggplant
off the plant, good luck. So I stand slow, then put my knife in the basket and
dust my hands on my shorts. When I get close I can see the poor little animal
is struggling for breath.
    I dig for my phone and I’m already walking
to the truck while I search through the numbers for the vet. I let them know
we’re on our way.

 
    We lose the kitten there, but at least
they put an end to her suffering. They don’t really know why she died, there
are three possibilities and they are telling us these, and Spencer is standing
there stroking the little thing with the back of his finger.
    Spencer gives the kitten a last pat and
leaves it there on the table and we go out. He has the towel in his hand, which
he shoves in the trashcan by the front desk before he pays.
    We go outside, pretty quiet and get in
the truck.
    “I read how we put our emotions on
animals,” I say. “I mean, that’s why it hits us so hard.” It doesn’t make
sense. Of course we put our emotions on animals, it’s called love. I meant , we’re softer with our animals.
    He laughs a little, even though he’s morose.
He reaches and pulls on my braid again.
    “You could get that dog,” I say, and I
don’t mean to, it is a flashing passing thought and it gets out cause I’m always pimping those dogs.
    He puts the braid pulling hand over his
mouth for a minute and looks out the window.
    After a few seconds he says, “Is there a
park around here?” He speaks so softly I’m not sure he said it.
    So I just start the truck.
    “Sarah, is there a park around here?”
    “Yes.” I back out.
    “Can we go there?”
    I side-eye him. I hope he’s not going to lose it cause I still have
that okra and good vegetable soup takes an hour.
    “Yes.”
    So he’s flipping my braid around kind of
slow, and I have to remember not to run off the road. The park is about five
miles, on the other side of town. It’s where they shoot the fireworks. It
borders the lake and it’s very pretty there.
    “You know what I’d like to do?” he says
when I turn the truck off and we’re sitting there in the parking lot, the
pavilion in front of us with a few picnic tables, and the water beyond that and
then the big backdrop of trees, one of which is starting to change into yellow.
    I’m afraid to say anything else. I hope
he isn’t planning to drown himself.
    “Let’s you and me take a nap, right
here. You got a blanket in here?”
    “A smelly one behind the