Crazy Girl

by B. N. Toler

  “We’re still discussing that one,” Allen insisted.

  Deanna flicked her gaze up to me. “Can you mute him somehow?”

  Laughing, I flipped the screen so Allen could see my face. “You better watch it, Papa Bear. Don’t upset Mama Bear, or I’m gonna have to silence you.” I swiped my finger across my throat.

  Allen didn’t get a chance to respond because the baby’s heartbeat roared before the tech turned down the volume and began pointing out what was what on the screen.

  “Does everything look okay?” Deanna asked.

  “Everything looks perfect to me,” the tech replied with a reassuring smile.

  Allen and Deanna asked the tech several questions while I did what I did best—observed.

  One might think I’d be fixated on the screen in awe of the baby, and the baby was most certainly awe-worthy, but it was Deanna I watched. I prided myself on being an intuitive person; someone who noticed things most might not. I was not sure if it was that part of me that noticed, or if it was that I knew my best friend so well I couldn’t not notice it. Maybe it was both.

  Love.

  It was all over her; radiating from her; leaking out of every pore. And while a wistful smile captured her features, something else pooled in her eyes.

  Fear.

  She was somehow equally ecstatic and terrified all at once. Love was kind of an asshole that way—we all pined for it in its numerous variations, yet it scared the hell out of us, too.

  “You’re amazing, Deanna,” Allen spoke softly, drawing me from my thoughts. “Look at what you’re doing. Look at you, creating that little piece of you and me.”

  The ultrasound tech and I met eyes, both of us silently asking the other the same question: Did your heart just melt, too?

  At that moment, Deanna’s eyes fixed on the cell screen as her features softened. “I love you,” she told him.

  Seeing them and their bond always obliterated my cynical view that real love didn’t exist. Clearly it did. But what did that mean—did it mean maybe it just didn’t exist for me? Deanna and Allen would end up old and gray, covered in grandchildren, and I’d most likely still be sleeping on a mattress on the floor in my crappy house. I rolled my eyes at myself. I was pulling a stool up to the bar in Pity Town. I needed to stop that right away.

  After her appointment, Deanna and I went for Mexican because she was craving it. As soon as we were seated, she rushed off to the restroom. While I waited, I opened my phone and went into my photos, smiling at the pictures of Wren I’d taken a few nights before. I’d stood with my arms crossed as I watched Wren fire his .308 rifle into the water. Not necessarily something crazy, but he had the gun set up on the bed at his new house and was firing through the balcony doors into the river.

  Inhaling through his nose, he closed his eyes as if pleased. “I love that smell.” The room smelled of gunpowder, a sourish odor that was somehow offensive but oddly enjoyable as well.

  When the first shot rang out, he’d grinned, his dimples showing through his coarse beard, and something about it made me feel so happy. He looked like a kid with a toy, amazed by what he was doing. I couldn’t remember the last time something made me smile that way, and I envied him, in a good way.

  “You see where it hit?” He’d pointed at the river where ringlets were forming around where the bullet contacted the water. We were a good five hundred feet away, but I could still see them. Firing a gun was a big deal for obvious reasons. You had to know what you were doing and all of the safety measures, but to Wren, it was a passion. He loved his guns. When he’d readied the rifle to fire again, I’d snapped a few photos of him on my cell phone.

  He’d been busy with work, so I hadn’t seen him since the last day I helped him move, but he’d texted and we’d spoken twice. We’d made plans to see each other the following day, and I hated myself for it, but I was way more excited to see him than I cared to admit. My cell started vibrating in my hand, an unknown number calling.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, my friend,” a deep voice answered. Tilting my head, I paused for a moment. It couldn’t be… “It’s Brigham.”

  “How’d you get my number?” I half laughed.

  “I know people,” he replied simply. Closing my eyes, I realized it must’ve been our coach that gave it to him. Wasn’t that some kind of privacy violation?

  “Nice of her to check with me first.”

  “What are you doing?” He went on, ignoring my comment. I noticed he did this often—would simply drop or ignore something without batting a lash.

  “Uh…” I stammered. Why was he calling me? I didn’t want to answer that question after his last interrogation. He thought he knew me, and I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, even when he had hit on a few sore points. “Having lunch with my friend.”

  “Well I’m assuming a female friend since you answered the phone.”

  “Brigham, why are you calling me?”

  “Because we’re friends.”

  Our waiter placed two glasses of water on the table, and I mouthed a ‘thank you’ to him. “Yeah, but don’t you think asking me for my number might have been more appropriate than getting it from someone else who clearly violated privacy laws giving it to you?”

  “Oh, Hannah,” he groaned. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Be like what?”

  “Like you’re being,” he explained. “It’s a volleyball league, not a gynecologist’s office. Geez.”

  Why did he always have to be so extreme? To show that you exaggerate, I thought, my mouth in a flat line. He did know me…a little.

  “I’m not hitting on you, so if your Beamer boyfriend is around or something, tell him he has nothing to worry about from me. I’m simply calling because I like to talk to my friends when I’m bored. It’s not a crime, you know. Lighten up, Hannah.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I gritted.

  “Good. I hope that’s true because we’re all lying assholes.”

  Rubbing my temple, I took a moment to collect my thoughts. This was weird…right? I mean, we’d chatted a couple of times, and he’d imparted some unwanted advice about men on me, but him pulling strings to get my number…this was odd. And we were certainly not friends. Before I responded, Deanna returned, and I decided I would have to deal with Brigham later.

  “Listen, I’m with my friend right now. Can we talk later?”

  “You gonna call me back?” he asked.

  “Sure, Brigham. Later.”

  I hung up and chucked my cell in my purse with a huff.

  “Who was that?” Deanna asked before sipping her water.

  “That was…” I paused and wondered for a moment…who was Brigham? What would I tell her? Brigham was a guy I barely knew who told me his life’s secrets and wasn’t attracted to me at all. Even I knew, though I was in the thick of it, nothing about the “associate friendship” Brigham and I had formed would make sense to anyone else. I knew it was easier to tell perfect strangers your struggles than to admit them to your loved ones. I decided to compartmentalize him as much as possible. When appropriate, or desperate, I would speak with him. But outside of that, I wouldn’t let him become part of my people. I wouldn’t let myself worry about him. I had enough to worry about already. Besides, my brother was the only guy friend I had.

  “That’s a long story,” I finally replied to Deanna just as the waiter arrived at the table to take our orders.

  I got you, Brother.

  The morning sessions on the range had taken longer than we’d expected. The group of students we were teaching didn’t know their ass from their elbows, and by the time we got everyone through the whole damned thing, it was one in the afternoon. I thought I’d get off by noon. Hannah was coming down, and we planned to go fishing since it was supposed to be such a nice day. But as work always seemed to, it got in the way. When I realized I was going to be late, I’d texted her and asked her if she minded waiting in the lobby for me, figuring we could grab l
unch before we went to my house.

  When I finally got done and met her in the lobby, she was sitting with her head propped on her hand, her eyes closed.

  “Hey,” I said softly as I sat beside her.

  Cracking her eyes open, she grinned sleepily.

  “Damn, Hannah. I’m sorry. If you were so tired, you could’ve just gone to my house and slept until I got there. I would have given you my key, no problem.” I felt bad I’d made her meet me at work. I’d just wanted to feed her, and the food in our chow hall was actually pretty good.

  “No, I’m good,” she rasped as she rested her hand on my thigh.

  “Late night?”

  Sitting up, she twisted her long hair behind her neck. “Little. Stayed up late writing.” A soft smile captured her features.

  “I’m guessing by the smile on your face, that makes you happy?”

  “Incandescently happy.”

  “Why, that’s a real fancy word you used there,” I teased.

  Laughing, she smacked my leg. “I gotta teach you a thing or two.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Always.”

  Kegs, Duke, Hannah and I hunkered down in the chow hall, seated at the table farthest from the entrance. Duke had just returned to his seat after going for a second helping. This time he came back with nothing on his plate but a heaping pile of tater tots. When he plopped his tray on the table, Kegs swiped a few.

  “Dude,” Duke griped. “Go get your own.”

  Shoving the handful of crisped potatoes in his mouth, Kegs responded around them, “You got enough to feed a third-world country there.”

  “Tough. I ain’t sharing,” he asserted before jerking his tray out of Kegs’s reach. Then looking to Hannah, he softened his voice and added, “I’ll share with Hannah, of course.”

  She grinned. “I’m good. Thanks, Duke.”

  “You’ll give her some, but not me?” Kegs mocked offense.

  “Yes. Because I’m a gentleman.”

  “Okay, let’s make a deal,” Kegs began. “Toss ’em and I’ll catch them in my mouth, and you keep tossing them until I miss. I only get what I catch.”

  I snorted and Hannah chuckled, humored by my friends as I shoved the last bite of burger in my mouth. Leave it to a bunch of knuckle draggers to turn tater tots into a challenge.

  “I’m guessing if I offered to go get him some it really wouldn’t matter, right?” Hannah whispered to me while Kegs and Duke debated.

  “No. It’s more fun this way.” I kissed the side of her head and she sighed. I liked making her sigh like that.

  “But Hannah throws ’em instead of you because you’ll try to make me miss,” Kegs insisted.

  “I would never,” Duke scoffed as he laughed before shoving the tray toward Hannah. She hadn’t even agreed to participate in this little game, but Kegs was already standing and moving toward the end of the table.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I told her.

  She smiled as she pushed her hair behind her ears. “I got this.”

  “This is serious shit here, Hannah,” Kegs announced as he bounced like he was about to enter a boxing ring. “Don’t let me down, woman.”

  “I got you, brother,” Hannah informed him in her best manly falsetto as she grabbed the first tot. “Stay focused.”

  Hannah moved in front of me and tossed the first tot. Kegs caught it with little effort. Hannah had good aim. By the time she’d grabbed the tenth tot, some of the other instructors and students had gathered around and were counting. Every time Kegs caught a tot, he’d do a tiny victory lap as he chewed, earning cheers from every one.

  At one point, Duke looked at me, his expression as stunned as I felt. “She’s badass. He’s barely moving to catch them.”

  I nodded in agreement.

  Everyone was laughing their asses off and cheering Kegs on, which I thought was awesome. It was just a stupid game that had come to be on the fly, but it was building comradery, which was important to me. None of the instructors had to eat in the mess hall, but we did because we wanted to interact with our peers and students. And there we were, a group of us gathered, cheering on Kegs like we were members of Fight Club. Might have seemed lame to some people, but I could see the benefit in it.

  They’d just reached twenty-five tots and Kegs hadn’t missed one. Finally, waving his hands in surrender, he backed away letting everyone know he was done as he chewed. Rushing Hannah, he scooped her up in a bear hug as he laughed around the food in his mouth. “We are the dream team!”

  When he released her, her face was lit with the widest grin, her cheeks rosy. Damn she looked beautiful when she smiled like that.

  “You are a beast,” I chuckled.

  She shook her head as if I were ridiculous. “I was throwing tater tots in the air. Pretty sure anyone can do that.”

  “He barely had to move,” I argued. “That was hot as hell. I was getting a chub.”

  She laughed. “Well if that’s all it takes to get you hot and bothered…”

  Grabbing her and pulling her between my legs where I was seated, I squeezed her as I peered up at her. The whole thing was so stupid and insignificant, I mean, we were throwing tots for God’s sake, but something about it made me so damn happy. It had been easy. There was no over-thinking or second-guessing. Her stare was fixed on mine as she brushed her fingers through my beard. Something about her expression hit me in the chest. “I really like you, crazy girl,” I confessed. Her fingers stopped threading my beard and her eyes locked on mine. It was rare that she was speechless. I’d surprised her. The sound of laughter drew her gaze away and she chuckled at our surroundings. Everyone laughed and chatted a bit longer before the gathering started to dissipate. As the body of people parted, I looked up and found Henry staring right at me. When Hannah noticed him, she pulled away and moved behind me, sensing the tension.

  “Marner,” he said, his voice stern as he took a few steps toward me, sliding his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. “This isn’t exactly appropriate behavior.”

  He was a foot away from me now, looking down on me where I was seated. His shoulders were back, yet his stance was casual, as if he wasn’t fazed a bit. I figured this must’ve been because I was seated. Glancing at Kegs, I noticed he’d crossed his arms and watched, waiting to hear what other bullshit Henry would spew next. Clearing my throat, I stood, and as I rose to my full stance, Henry’s chin tilted up.

  “It was a harmless game and forgive me,” I scoffed, unable to contain my discontent, “but it looked to me like everyone was enjoying it.”

  “The students don’t need to see this kind of shenanigans going on. It sets a bad example.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, I could see his point on some level, but on another, it just wasn’t that big of a deal. No one had a problem with it but him, and I felt it in my gut the only reason he had anything to say about it was because I was involved. He just wanted to piss in my Cheerios. Shocking.

  “I started it,” Kegs intervened, but Henry held his hand up, stopping him, keeping his eyes fixed on me.

  “Marner is a lead. He should have stopped it.”

  I snorted, shaking my head. Was he really going to make this big a deal out of fucking tater tots?

  Holding up my right hand, I stood stiff like a Boy Scout being sworn in and droned out, “I promise to never let anyone throw potatoes, of any variety, be they fried, baked, or mashed, in the mess hall ever again.”

  A small crease formed between his brows as he narrowed his eyes at me, crossing his arms, clearly not amused by my smartass comeback. I didn’t really care though. He didn’t like me, and he never would. Kegs had turned his back to us, his body shaking subtly as he tried not to laugh.

  “Funny, Marner,” Henry muttered. “But I don’t think humor is going to get you very far.”

  This asswipe really thought I was his kid. Picking up my tray, I passed by him. I wouldn’t hash it out with him in front of everyone, but I wasn’t going
to bow down and apologize either. In the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t a big deal. Also, he could have addressed it with me at another time, when students weren’t lingering around us, eager to see what would transpire in our dispute. If he wanted to talk about unprofessionalism, he needed to take a good long look at himself. He was petty as fuck. And the truth was, he was a shit manager. He rarely had his paperwork filled out correctly, the schedule was always messed up, and he was terrible at creating employee morale. “Nice talk, Henry,” I murmured. “We gotta go.” I jutted my chin at Hannah, indicating for her to walk in front of me. Nervously, she darted her eyes between Kegs and Duke and gave a little wave to them before she scurried ahead, maneuvering around Henry with a shy smile.

  “See you guys tomorrow,” I called to my friends before following her out.

  I was grateful Hannah and I had to drive to my house separately because it gave me time to cool down. I didn’t want to ruin our time together just because I was pissed at Henry. When we got back to the house, I walked in the kitchen and poured each of us two fingers of scotch. Hannah sat at the counter and we both sipped. I appreciated that she didn’t say anything, or try to make small talk. She was catching on and understood I was on edge and was giving me time to decompress.

  “Sorry about all that,” I said after a few moments.

  “Sorry I got you in trouble,” she murmured.

  Henry had attempted to reprimand me, but that was in no way Hannah’s fault. She didn’t do anything wrong. “Don’t. That had nothing to do with you. That guy’s just an asshole.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “A lot of guys are jealous of my tot throwing skills. It’s hard being this good at something.”

  I chuckled. “I have to admit you were pretty impressive. Not as good as me, but damn close.”

  “Pfft. I could take you on any day,” she bantered. “If you’re lucky, I’ll give you a few pointers.”

  I feigned offense with a scoff. “I was pro, ya know? No one was better than me.”

  She cut her eyes at me, flirty and teasing. “Is that so?”