Me and the Cute Catastrophe (Sweet, Small Town Romantic Comedy in Good Grief, Idaho Book 1)

by Jessie Gussman

  All because of Trey.

  “Are you really just hanging out here tonight by yourself?” he asks, and it sounds like there’s hesitation in his tone.

  “Yes.” My word sounds defensive, because I feel like me hanging out at my house by myself on a Friday night, while it’s exactly what I want to be doing, makes me a loser.

  In the eyes of the rest of the world, I probably shouldn’t be alone on Friday night and happy about it.

  But I can’t think of anything else to go with that word, and it gets quiet again.

  Chapter 17

  Trey

  I CAN ALMOST FEEL THE shock that goes through Claire as my question hangs in the air.

  I don’t even know why I bother.

  She obviously wasn’t expecting me tonight. Not that she should have been.

  My ruse of borrowing spinach, of all things—what in the world made me think to say spinach?—I mean a cup of sugar, sure. Neighbors do that all the time. Or flour. Or even milk. But spinach?

  That was real slick there, Trey.

  It’s obvious that she questions my sanity. But at least she hasn’t questioned my story. If she had pressed, I would have had to admit that we’ve already had supper, the dishes are washed and put away, and nobody is eating anything else at our house until at least tomorrow morning. And we aren’t having spinach salad for breakfast.

  But thankfully, she didn’t press. Although, I don’t think she really believes me either.

  Still, she lets me stay. And now I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to make things awkward at practice. But I also just want to have a conversation with her between two regular people and not between the head coach and her assistant.

  And not with a bunch of girls giggling at us.

  “Do you want to come in and sit down?”

  “Thank you.”

  Racking my brain for something to talk about, I follow her into the room. I’m thinking so hard about what I’m going to say I barely notice that she’s stopped.

  Okay, correction there. I don’t notice that she stopped, and I run into her back.

  She stumbles forward, and I reached to catch her, but I miss.

  She steadies herself at the table and turns slowly. My stomach cramps, because she seems like she’s hurt.

  “I’m so sorry. You’re hurt.”

  She shakes her head. “No. I...” She looks down and seems a little sheepish. “I’m still sore from the suicides that you made the girls run on Wednesday.”

  “I told you not to do them.” I can’t keep myself from laughing.

  “I know. That’s why I’ve been trying to pretend I’m not sore. Once I start moving around a bit, it pretty much goes away.”

  “Yeah. Take a couple pain pills, and you’ll be good for the day.”

  “I know. I should do that, I just...”

  “You’re too stubborn to take pain pills.”

  She nods. Her sheepish look intensifies. Man, it’s a cute look on her.

  “Oh. Hey. Before we sit back down, I probably ought to take the puppy outside. She’s not really housetrained.” She looks at the clock on the wall. “I guess it’s time for Midget to have her evening walk too. Do you mind?”

  “If I were less secure than what I am, I would think that you’re thinking of excuses to not have me inside sitting with you. But since I have overpowering confidence, I’m going to assume that you really mean that.”

  “I do.” She quirks her lips and looks at the spinach in my hand. “Do you want to take that to your house?” Her eyebrows go up, and her eyes narrow slightly.

  It’s my turn to look sheepish. “It can probably wait. I am making spinach salad, but I wasn’t going to do it until tomorrow for lunch.”

  She smirks at me, and I know I’m smiling, but I’m also thinking about how we worked together all week at practice and how much I’ve enjoyed it. How she didn’t let her ego and everything that she’d been planning get in the way of her listening to my ideas and being willing to change her mind.

  “Would you like to hold the puppy?” she asks, grabbing Midget’s leash from a hook next to the door.

  It seems kind of silly for me to hold the puppy while she struggles with the dog/pony. I hold my hand out for the leash.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get to know Midget a little better. I see you and your daughters walking her at night, and with her size and regal carriage, she’s definitely an eye turner. Plus, she’s so sweet.”

  I mean that. Midget truly is a lot bigger than I’m used to a dog being, but she has an amazingly kind and gentle personality to go along with her size.

  “Look at her,” Claire says.

  My brows crinkle and I glance at Midget, who’s looking at the puppy with absolute adoration in her big brown eyes.

  “It looks like it’s love. That’s not a boy, is it?”

  Thankfully, Claire laughs at that. It could’ve been an awkward question. Of course, I didn’t realize it until it was out of my mouth.

  “No. She’s a little girl.”

  “I suppose you don’t want to name her in case you’re not keeping her?” I ask. It seems a little awkward to keep calling her The Puppy.

  “That’s right on. We had that happen so many times growing up, where Dad would bring some animal home, and we’d all fall in love with it, and we’d beg him to let us keep it, and he’d finally say yes, and then the owner would show up.”

  “That’s tough.”

  I suppose on some level I know that was probably a good thing. Suffering usually is. It produces character growth, anyway.

  Just like sports, where you run suicides—my mouth crinkles at the thought of how adorable Claire was as she insisted on running with the girls—it hurts, and it’s painful, but it makes you better.

  Still, it’s never easy to lose something you love.

  “It was. I think it was just as hard for my parents though. I mean come on, there were four of us girls, and I’m sure you can imagine, and maybe you even heard at times, the weeping and the wailing that occurred when that happened.”

  “Now that you mention it, I do remember a time or two walking out and hearing really odd noises coming from your house.” I allow my eyes to lower and look at Claire’s stomach. “But as I recall, it was close to suppertime, and I just assumed they were stomachs growling.”

  She laughs, and I realize I’ve come to love the sound. I want to hear it over and over.

  I think of the puppy and falling in love and losing things and how I had just thought that was a character-growing experience.

  But it’s a good character-growing experience for someone else. Not for me.

  I’ve gotten Midget’s leash snapped onto her collar, and Claire moves to the door. “Are you ready?”

  I put my hand on Midget’s head, amazed at how silky she feels, and I say, “We are.”

  “You do need to keep a good hold on her, because she pulls almost all the time, but when she sees something she wants, it can be a real job to stop her.”

  “I think I’m up for the challenge.”

  I have total confidence in my ability to hold the dog. I figure she probably weighs about as much as I do. However, maybe I’m being arrogant, but I think I’m slightly smarter than she is.

  And brains are better than brute strength.

  Most of the time.

  Still, because I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Claire, I slip my hand through the leash end, bracing it on my wrist and gripping the leash with my hand, figuring that it’s probably better to be safe than sorry.

  We step out, and Claire closes the door behind us. While I’m waiting for her, I say, “She’d probably like one of those retractable leashes. That might be easier.”

  “Probably. But it’s so hard to find one that’s heavy-duty enough to hold her. We tried a couple different ones, and they always end up snapping.”

  “I guess having a dog this size presents more than a few challenges.”

  Cl
aire chuckles, and I like that sound too. It’s not as good as a laugh, but it’s close.

  We start off by going out the back side of her lot and walking up the alley behind our houses. If we take a right down at the corner, the alley goes up, passes a couple more houses, and then winds through the woods until it comes out on the back road that goes down by the river.

  I assume we’re not walking that far and will turn around at some point. There aren’t any houses, and with the almost full moon, it’s a beautiful night for a walk.

  “It does,” Claire agrees. “One of those challenges is trying to find room on the couch to sit down. I suppose if we’d been smart, when she was a puppy, we would have taught her to stay off the couch. Now, and I’m not kidding about this, Melody, Evie, and I will sit on the floor, and Midget sits on the couch.”

  “That sounds like a spoiled dog.”

  I like it though. It shows so much of Claire’s personality. She was willing to give up so much to make the basketball team better but also for me—her thoughts of what the basketball team should be, her ideas of what they’d do at practices, and her goals of using those things to build character and community spirit in the girls. She’s deferred to me at practice when it comes to technique, drills, and plays, even though I don’t have any right to have a say.

  That she’d give up her couch for the dog makes me laugh, but it also makes me respect her in ways that just reinforce what I already know about her.

  Midget jerks at the leash, and I remember just in time to keep a tight hold. My mind is wandering, and I wasn’t exactly close to losing her, but I know I need to be careful and pay attention.

  “She is strong.”

  “She is. But she’s also so sweet. I mean, seriously, she sometimes doesn’t realize how big she is, and she can just brush into little kids and knock them down. But she doesn’t mean to hurt anyone, and she never does it on purpose.”

  “I know. You love your dog.”

  “Why don’t you have a dog?” She asks the question easily. We’re just having a light conversation. I don’t want to get too deep. But I don’t want to avoid the question or lie either.

  “My wife was allergic to dogs. We had cats.”

  “Oh? I’ve never seen them at your dad’s house.”

  “She got the cats and the kids in the divorce.”

  “You gave them up to keep from fighting?”

  “The boys loved the cats. It’d be dumb of me to lose my kids yet fight for the cats.”

  “I see.” She puts her head down and walks along, stopping with the puppy as it sniffs something along the edge of the road. After a few moments, it starts walking again.

  “I’m impressed that Midget isn’t stepping all over the puppy.”

  “No. She’s really good about that. I was worried about that to begin with. But it turned out to be unfounded.”

  “Maybe you’ll be able to keep her.”

  “Is it terrible that I want to?”

  “A little. After all, Midget’s enough dog for about four families.”

  We laugh together, and I’m loving it. The dark, the moon, the easy laughter.

  I want more.

  But I figure I’m not there yet.

  She deserves to know where I want to go.

  I debate with myself for about two seconds before I open my mouth. “I don’t want to make things awkward for basketball practice, but I really like being with you. If you remember, I mentioned that I really...liked you before we were both married, and I’ve found, with being around you again, those feelings aren’t buried too deep.”

  Our feet crunch as the blacktop ends and we begin to walk on stones.

  There are two tire tracks, and it would make more sense for me to walk in one and let her walk in the other, but I walk in the middle.

  Because I want to be close to her.

  I think I’m falling.

  It takes her a while to answer, but I don’t worry about it, because I think she likes me too. After all, we’re walking together. And laughing together. And talking easily.

  “I think it might be better for us to stay friends only. At least until basketball season is over.”

  I am not expecting her to say that. It makes sense, and I’d actually thought the same thing myself. But I kinda thought we could take a few steps forward, and it would be okay. I thought she’d want to.

  It’s my turn to walk quietly. And I kick myself while I’m doing it.

  There goes the lighthearted mood. I’ve ruined everything.

  There’s a long silence, and I feel like an idiot.

  It surprises me when she speaks. “Are you staying in Good Grief?”

  My mind screeches to a stop. I consider her question.

  I’m not considering the answer to it exactly. I know the answer. Although, it doesn’t crystallize in my mind like I expect it to. The word “no” doesn’t trip off my lips like it should.

  Maybe that’s why she stiff-armed me. Maybe it has nothing to do with us coaching basketball together and everything to do with her being worried that I am just here until my dad gets better and then leaving again. Which, to be fair, was my plan.

  But when I was asking her about being more, I wasn’t thinking that she and I would go to Seattle together.

  I am thinking, to be honest, about...staying...staying here. Here in Good Grief, Idaho.

  Those words, that thought, the concreteness of it hadn’t formed in my head until just now. Maybe I’d had an inkling, but I hadn’t really articulated it, not even to myself.

  “That’s what I thought,” she says before I can say anything. I mean I had plenty of time to talk, I just haven’t figured out what I am gonna say.

  “No. Wait. I...I was thinking. I didn’t want to say something that wasn’t true.” I say this honestly. And to Claire’s credit, she seems to believe me.

  I love that. It makes the words come easier to my mouth as my thoughts crystallize.

  “When I moved here, my sole thought was to help my dad and go back to Seattle. But when I said about us just now, I wasn’t thinking about us as a fling.”

  “You are thinking about us as in you in Seattle and me in Good Grief?”

  “No. I hadn’t really thought about it exactly, but that’s not what I want.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “I’m not. Not really. If there were a reason for me to stay in Good Grief, that’s what I want to do.”

  There. I am being as honest and open as I can be.

  She’s already rebuffed me once, and I don’t want to have to go through another rejection. Not two in the same walk anyway.

  The puppy starts lagging behind, and Claire bends down, scooping her up and holding her tucked against the opposite side from me.

  Midget isn’t nearly done with her walk, and we continue on in silence.

  Maybe I should move over to my tire track, but I stay in the middle with Claire walking right beside me.

  She didn’t tell me a direct no. Just “wait.” I can do that.

  She’s worth the wait, however long it is.

  She’s worth the hope that there will be more.

  There’s a little bit of a hump in the middle of the road, and when Midget jerks on the leash, I lose my balance slightly.

  Not a big deal, but the backs of our hands brush.

  I feel a little like I’m in high school again as I try to think of a way to lose my balance and fall into her again.

  But I’m too old for tricks like that, and I shove those thoughts aside.

  No sooner have they gone out of my brain than our hands brush again.

  This time, I haven’t lost my balance. Midget hasn’t pulled me at all. And there is no reason for Claire to waver, since she is walking in the tire track.

  Regardless, it makes me smile. I’m still enjoying the thought that she might have touched me on purpose when our hands brush again.

  This time, I’m sure she did it on purpose.

  Maybe she can see my te
eth in the moonlight as I look down at her.

  She has an innocent look on her face, and when she feels my eyes on her, she looks off to the side, the corners of her lips dipping up just slightly.

  I look straight ahead again.

  I’m waiting for it when, not twenty seconds later, our knuckles brush again.

  It does surprise me, however, when this time, instead of a light brush, her fingers slide into mine.

  It’s funny, how I feel that touch, this movement of her skin, the twisting of my stomach, and the lifting of my heart all at once.

  I love that I feel her touch the whole way through my body.

  I stare straight ahead, and I take three steps before I say, with a smile in my voice, “I thought we were going to stay just friends.”

  “Don’t friends hold hands?” Claire asks, total innocence in her voice.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Can we be friends at basketball practice and maybe the holding hands kind of friends at night when we walk the dogs?”

  “I think you just asked me out on a date.”

  “I asked you out on a lot of dates. I walk the dogs every night.”

  “You...usually have your girls with you.” I need to know where she’s planning on going with this. I’m content to let her lead. I feel like she likes me, and I know I like her, and I can respect it if she’s not quite ready to say any more. I can respect that and trust that we’ll keep spending time together, and if she hasn’t already fallen in love with me, maybe she will.

  “I know.”

  “And you’re okay with being holding hands friends while we walk the dogs with your girls?” I ask, because I want to be clear.

  “Yes.” Her word’s firm, and I think my heart is doing a victory dance. Either that or it’s taken up kickboxing.

  My thumb brushes over her hand, and I say, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  I love the confidence in her voice and the way she doesn’t hesitate. I feel like things have almost come full circle, in a way, since I’d had such a big crush on her. Then, after she got married, and I went away to college, I never thought that there would be anything between Claire and me.

  I can’t say thoughts of her didn’t go through my head at times as I lived my life, but I’d given up on my high school dreams. I’d moved on. Or so I thought.