Nathan’s laugh is the last thing I hear before I’m scooped up and tossed over his shoulder, butt aimed up toward the sky.
“NATHAN! Put me down!” I screech as he carries me out of my room.
“There is nothing wrong with getting a little help in life. Friends help each other get ahead. In fact, I think my next project will be getting you out of this dump.” He knocks a knuckle on the wall and paint chips fall.
“Don’t you dare buy my apartment building and renovate it!”
“I might. I’ve got money to blow, baby.”
Who is this man?!
“You’re unhinged!” I yell at his butt.
“Yep. Feels good too. Now, come on, yell at me some more in the truck. I really don’t want to go to the party tonight without you, and I know you don’t want to miss it.”
I kick and flail. “No way! I’m not going with you. We’re fighting! You don’t get to get your way right now, you big brute!” He gives my behind a single gentle pat after I say the word brute, which makes me gasp with outrage and also want to die laughing. UGHHHH I hate Nathan. Why can’t we just fight like normal people?
“You can’t touch my butt! That’s against the rules,” I say as he walks me back toward the front door, stopping to turn out lights as he goes. My hair dangles in the air below me like a weeping willow.
“I never did see a list written out anywhere.”
“I’ll make you one and laminate it! Why are you acting so weird tonight anyway?” It’s freaking me out. Something about Nathan feels different. He’s always been playful with me, but now he’s… I refuse to let my brain finish that thought.
“I think I’m acting normal.”
“No, you’re not, and I’m not going with you to the party! PUT ME DOWN! Wait, can you grab my tennis shoes? They’re down there beside the couch. And don’t forget my sweater!”
With me still draped over his shoulder, Nathan sumo squats and retrieves my shoes before turning out the final light, picking up my sweater, and taking us into the hallway. He swings me around so he can lock the door behind us, and I find myself face to face with my sweet elderly neighbor Dorthea. Her curlers are in her hair for the night, and her eyes are as wide as saucers.
I smile like everything is normal. “Hey, Mrs. Dorthea. Did you get that stack of coupons I slipped under your door this morning?”
Mrs. Dorthea is a widow, and I know she struggles financially. Since I also fall in the category of struggling financially, the most I can do is clip coupons for her and share my leftovers. More than once, however, she’s thanked me for the hundred-dollar bill she found in her mailbox even though I never gave her one. I thought maybe her memory was just beginning to slip, but now I see the truth. Nathan. I need a paper bag to breathe into. In how many other areas of my life has this man secretly Mother Teresa-ed me?
“Well, yes, honey, I did…but…” She’s at a loss for words since I’m casually thrown over Nathan’s shoulder like this is a normal way for a woman to be carried around in the twenty-first century. Some part of me says I should be appalled to be hauled around by a man like this, but I can’t hear her because the larger part of me is too busy yelling, YES! Carry me back to your cave and make sweet, sweet love to me!
Suddenly, I’m swung around the opposite way, and now my butt is aimed at my poor sweet neighbor.
“Hi, Mrs. Dorthea. Looking pretty as always. Do you have everything you need tonight?” Nathan asks—with a big charming smile, I’m sure. I bet all those pearly whites are completely dazzling her.
Yep. He totally smiled, because now Mrs. Dorthea is tripping all over her words trying to thank him for his compliment, assuring him she’s as blessed as the Pope and congratulating him on another win this past weekend. I roll my eyes.