Lost and Found

by Elle Casey

“Yeeeeah. She called me.” Now I’m worried.

  “Son of a bitch,” he says under his breath.

  “Hey! Whatever happened to me being your savior of doom?”

  He stares at me for a few seconds and then his face relaxes. “You are the savior of doom.”

  After I think about what he said and seeing him trying not to laugh again, I wonder if he and I are saying the same thing. Savior of doom. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

  “Just try the ring on once for me,” he says, making my head spin with the change of subject and mood. “You have beautiful hands. I never saw it on a woman’s hand before and I’d like to.”

  My heart warms at the compliment, even if it is fake. “Your girlfriend never put it on?”

  “Hell no. She never even saw it.”

  His quick anger makes me intensely curious. “Will you tell me how it got in the fountain?”

  “Will you try it on for me?”

  We stare at each other for a little while. When I answer, I feel like I’m taking a big step towards something I’m not even sure what it is.

  “Fine,” I say. ‘Tell me all your secrets and I’ll try the damn thing on.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  I HOLD OUT THE RING, hoping she’ll cooperate and let me just slide it on her finger. My grand plan to get her to fall in love with the look of ice on her hand is in motion. No woman can resist a gorgeous diamond, right? That’s what they told me at Cartier.

  “No, you first,” she says.

  Cassie starts to fuss, making sounds like she’s about to let one of those howls go like she did earlier in the car.

  “Here,” I say, handing the baby over to my savior of doom. “Hold her while I find her food.” I leave Cassie in her arms before either of them has time to complain.

  “Are you sure you know how to feed her?”

  “Sure,” I lie, hoping if I fake the confidence it’ll be there when I need it. “There’s some formula in one of these bags. There’ll be directions on it, right?”

  “God, I hope so,” she says under her breath.

  “Ye of little faith.” I unzip the first bag.

  “You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” she asks.

  “That obvious, eh?” I abandon that first bag that’s full of totally useless, multi-colored clothing and go for another.

  “How is it you end up with a baby in your completely un-baby-friendly condo for an entire weekend without any experience whatsoever?”

  “Funny you should ask. It’s kind of tied up with the ring thing.” I look at her over my shoulder.

  She has the baby in her lap, lying so that Cassie’s head it at her knees and Cassie’s feet are at her crotch. She has both of the baby’s hands wrapped around her thumbs and she’s moving her hands up and down kind of like I did earlier in the elevator. I’m unable to move when she starts to talk.

  “Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Leah, Leah, waaaa hoo Leah! Savior of doom!” She claps the baby’s fists together over her head.

  I go back to my formula search, only now I’m much more sober than I was before. All along I’ve been reminding myself how different I am from this Leah person, but then every time I do that, she slaps me in the face with a similarity. For example, we both don’t know shit about taking care of babies but we do know how to turn one into a cheerleader.

  “So how is a baby being here in your place related to a ring in a fountain?” she asks.

  I finally find a can of formula in the side pocket of a bag. The instructions say to add water in a fifty/fifty mix, so I grab an empty bottle from the same pocket and go into the kitchen.

  “My brother was married to a girl named Laura. She was nine months pregnant with Cassie when she was killed by a drunk driver. Obviously, Cassie lived, but Laura did not.” I pause to open the can and to let myself breathe through those horrible facts. It still hurts to even think them in my head let alone say them aloud.

  Next thing I know, Leah Betty is standing in the kitchen with me, Cassie held awkwardly to her shoulder and her eyes filling with tears. “Oh my god, that’s horrible, Boo.”

  She looks so sad, I want to make her feel better, but I don’t know what to say. I open my mouth, hoping the right words are about to come out.

  “Why do you keep calling me Boo?” I finally say. So much for my brain working without guidance.

  She shrugs. “I guess because I don’t know your real name. And because when someone asked me what it was, I panicked. It was the first thing I thought of.”

  The darkness that had descended thinking about Laura dissipates a little. “You mean you’ve been actively stalking me for a week and you don’t know my name? How is that even possible?” I can’t help but smile. This girl is completely bat-shit crazy, albeit in a sexy, air-headed kind of way.

  “First of all, I haven’t been stalking you, and second of all, in case you never noticed, you always introduce yourself as Doctor Oliver. Is that your first name? Doctor? Do your friends call you Doc?” She snorts, laughing at her own lame joke.

  She makes me feel ashamed of myself. I’m not sure how or why that’s happening, though. I am a doctor, after all. Every one of my colleagues does the same thing. First-name basis is frowned on in my field. One must keep a professional distance from one’s patients.

  “My name is James,” I say, pouring formula into the bottle, “and my friends call me James.” Why am I hinting that she call me James? I don’t know, but I am.

  “Well, I’m going to call you Boo. You look like a Boo to me.”

  I act annoyed. “That’s ridiculous. Boo is a name for a teddy bear.”

  She reaches out and rubs her hand up my bare forearm. “Perfect.”

  I stop pouring the formula, unable to move without spilling. My pants are getting tight by my zipper at the feel of her hand touching my skin. What the hell?

  She keeps right on talking as if nothing strange just happened. “Are you almost done?” She pulls Cassie away from her shoulder and stares at her while she holds her dangling in the air. “She’s eating her own hands.” Leaning into the baby’s face, she frowns. “You’d better stop that, little girl. You won’t have any fingers left.”

  I have the craziest desire to kiss this nut job on the mouth. I can picture the sensation of her tongue sliding across mine already.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Leah Betty asks.

  “Like what?” I say, shaking my head out of the weird clouds they were swimming in.

  “Like you’re about to eat me alive.”

  I shrug, playing it off. “You’re the one who said I look like a bear.”

  “Teddy bear, not grizzly bear. Big difference.”

  I hold up the full bottle and gesture with it. “Would you like to do the honors?”

  She pushes the baby into my chest. “Nope. Your baby, your job.”

  “That’s not very maternal of you,” I say, hoping to guilt her into taking over. I put my hand on Cassie’s chest, holding her against my own.

  “Oh, trust me, I’m going to be very maternal one day, when I have a baby of my own.” Leah Betty leaves the kitchen and I follow her back out to the living room.

  “When will that be? Soon? Are you seeing someone?” I tell myself this is important information to have if I’m going to be in a position to ensure she keeps the ring. I need to get to know her better, find an angle of attack.

  “Nope. I’m off men for now.”

  I wonder why. Did someone hurt her? Break her heart? I feel like breaking his face, whoever he is.

  “Into women instead?” I ask, just to be sure I understand.

  “Excuse me, but no. Why is it whenever I say I’m off men, people ask me that?”

  I don’t answer because it feels like a rhetorical question, and even if it isn’t, it should be. The idea of going ‘off’ the opposite sex is like the idea of giving up all four food groups in my mind. I’m pretty sure I’d starve to death eventually. Even
after Hilary, I’m finding myself getting urges that will probably get me in trouble. Like the urge to see this woman naked in my condo, for one. That’s definitely a desire I should ignore, right? I look at her and I’m not sure anymore. What could it hurt? Just the idea has me sweating in anticipation.

  I sit down on the couch and hold Cassie in my arms. She opens her mouth as soon as the bottle comes close and sucks greedily at the nipple.

  “So what happened after your sister-in-law died?” Leah Betty asks.

  “My brother lost his mind.” I picture Jeremy the day of the funeral. We knew he was on a hair trigger, but neither Jana nor I expected him to literally throw himself on the casket like he did.

  “Is he okay now?”

  “No. He’s lost.” I stare down into his daughter’s beautiful blue eyes. “Very, very lost.” I have to struggle to say the words straight. My voice keeps wanting to catch.

  “I guess it runs in the family,” she says.

  “What?” I look up at her, not sure I understand.

  She points at Cassie. “Is that why you have the baby for the weekend? Because your brother is out of it?”

  “Yes. And it’s why during the rest of the week my sister Jana takes care of her.”

  “Wow. Does she have other kids?”

  “No. She’s only twenty-five. Not married either.”

  “I’m twenty-eight and I’m nowhere near ready for a baby,” Leah Betty says, sounding shocked. “Twenty-five is pretty young to have to take over someone else’s life.”

  “Yes.” I nod, feeling sorry for my sister now too. Why did I wait so long to take Cassie off her hands? Maybe Leah Betty’s right about me. Maybe I am an arrogant asshole.

  “Where does the ring come in?” Leah leans over and starts stroking Cassie’s fuzzy head. Cassie’s eyes close a little in response to the soft touch. She looks like she’s battling against sleep taking over. She pauses in her sucking, then starts again. Pauses and starts. Pauses and starts again.

  I lower my voice. “I was dating this woman for a while, and she kept bugging me to get married, so I finally bought her a ring. The night I was going to propose to her, she went after my brother.”

  I can’t say any more. I’m angry just remembering it, and I don’t want to feel that way when Cassie looks so peaceful.

  “When you say went after do you mean in a sexy way?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “Wow. What a ho-bag.”

  I nod again, only this time feeling a little bit lighter in the chest. Ho bag is an excellent description of my ex. I wish I’d thought of it myself.

  “So you chucked the ring into the fountain?”

  “No, my brother did. I went and found him. He was wasted as usual. When we were driving back to my place he jumped out of the cab to go to the fountain. He met Laura there and he goes back sometimes. Maybe a lot, I don’t know.”

  “So you two went to the fountain, he tossed the ring in, and then what?”

  “Then he tried to take a piss in the fountain and a cop busted us and chased us off.”

  She laughs. “I can totally picture that. It’s probably the same rent-a-cop that came after me.”

  I look up at her. “What do you mean?”

  She sighs heavily before answering. “I was coming from work one day last week … I can’t remember the exact day … and I stepped in dog poo. So I went to the fountain to wash my shoe off.”

  “You were going to put dog shit in the fountain?” I don’t want to think about how anti-social that is. I had her pegged as a different person. Thank God Jeremy didn’t get in and swim around in it.

  “No, don’t be ridiculous.”

  Relief washes over me. I want her to be normal, someone I could spend time with. Obviously there’s something very wrong with me right now. I’m writing it off to temporary fatherhood issues.

  “I was just going to splash some water out of the fountain and try to use it to wipe my shoe off on the ground. But then when I took my shoes off, the air on my hot feet felt so good, I put them in the fountain.”

  “You little rebel.” I can picture her in that crazy skirt, bare footed in the fountain. Only in my daydream, she’s pregnant.

  Yikes. Where in the hell did that come from?

  “Yeah, well, when some guy started yelling at me to get out of the fountain, I suddenly felt the urge to go in farther.”

  “Of course you did.” I laugh. This girl is something else.

  “So I went farther and climbed up a couple levels, and that’s when I stepped on the ring and hurt my foot.”

  I blink a few times as I recall that day she ran into me. “You were soaked, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I was. Because of that damn bad ring juju! I stepped on it, fell back, and practically drowned in two feet of water. And that rent-a-cop came after me and tried to citizen’s arrest me, which made it worse. I grabbed the ring not even knowing what it was and took off.”

  “And ran right into me.”

  She looks at me and smiles. “Huh. Yeah. I guess I did. But it was more like you ran into me because you weren’t looking where you were going.”

  “So you claim … because I think I’m too good.”

  She frowns. “What?”

  “That’s what you said. You said I don’t look where I’m going because I think I’m better than everyone else.”

  Her smile is the awkward kind. “I may have been a little cranky when I said that. I take it back. I still think you’re arrogant, of course, but not as much as before.”

  I’ve never had someone be so harshly honest with me in all my life. I find it … entertaining. I wonder how honest she’ll be if I push her.

  “So on a scale of one to ten, one being the least arrogant and ten being the worst, where would I fall?”

  She looks me up and down and shrugs. “When you hold that baby in your arms, you go down on the scale. Maybe to a four.”

  “And?”

  “And when you’re standing in your office or sitting at your desk, it goes up to level ten plus.”

  “Do you have something against doctors?”

  “No, I have something against big heads.”

  Cassie turns her head and pushes the nipple away, squirming.

  “What’s she doing?” I ask, not expecting an answer.

  “Sit her up. Maybe she’s choking.”

  I throw the bottle down and lift Cassie up immediately. I know what a choking victim looks like, but paranoia has me doubting myself. When Cassie hits my shoulder a loud, juicy belch comes out. Then something warm drips down my back.

  “Wow. Holy exorcist baby alert,” Leah Betty says, looking at my back.

  “Listen, Leah Betty or whatever your name is, could you find me something to clean this with? Maybe in one of the bags?”

  “Leah Betty?” she stares at me. “What are you …? What?”

  “What is your name anyway?” I feel my face growing hot. “Leah Wallace? Betty Wallace? Shay Dee?”

  “How do you know all those names?” she asks me.

  I glare at her. “A towel please? And don’t think I’m going to forget that you promised to try the ring on once you knew my story.”

  She stands and goes over to a bag. “I didn’t forget. And you still need to tell me how you know my aliases.”

  I’m worried she’ll get the wrong impression when I tell her how I know, that I specifically asked about her in the hospital. While she searches for a towel, I try to think up a convincing lie.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  I HAND HIM A TOWEL I found in one of the baby bags to wipe the baby’s face and his back with and then stand in front of him with my arms crossed. “Spill it, mister.”

  “Spill what?” he tries to wipe his back, unsuccessfully. Holding a baby and reaching around his body requires more coordination than he has, apparently.

  I take the towel away from him and push him so he’s turned around. When he answers me, he’s facing the wall.

  �
��Don’t play games. Tell me how you know my aliases.”

  “It’s not big deal. It’s not like I had to play Sherlock Holmes. After I saw you in the hospital, I checked to see who you were. I thought you were following me. The front desk told me the names you used and the fact that you were visiting your father.” He turns his head to look at me. “They also said you had a husband.”

  I wave him off. “Ah, that was just a story I told them.”

  “You tell a lot of stories,” he says, turning back around to face me more fully. Cassie is asleep in his arms.

  “I do have a little issue with stress.” I look down at our feet. I’m so glad I painted my toenails the other day. I don’t want him thinking I’m really a derelict, even if my apartment is kind of awful and I can’t afford it.

  “What kind of issue?” he asks.

  “I tend to lie when I’m freaking out. It’s no big deal. I also get itchy.”

  “Have you been lying to me all this time?” he asks. He looks sad.

  “No, of course not.” I frown at him for a second. “Just about the Shay Dee thing. I’m not really a rapper. And my name’s just Leah, not Leah Betty. And my last name isn’t Wallace either. The man in the hospital isn’t my father. He’s just a friend.”

  He laughs. “Are you sure you’re not a rapper? Because you sure looked like one.”

  I smile, proud he can appreciate my thrift-shopping skills. “I know, right? I thought about busting out a rhyme while I was in your office, but I was afraid your secretary would recognize me.”

  “Recognize you? From where?”

  “I came to your office before. She wouldn’t let me in. She was a real bitch, if you want to know the truth. If I were you, I’d hire someone nicer.”

  “You interested?” he asks. “Because the position is open.” He’s smiling when he says it but then his face goes slack. A panicked look replaces the former smile.

  I laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “I am.” He laughs too, pointing at me. “Ha, gotcha. You thought I was serious.”

  For some reason his joke starts to hurt. “I would be a good secretary, you know.”