Page 2 of 20% Stud 80% Muffin
“Gah, that man turns me into a raging bitch.”
I tossed chicken sticks, their favorite, to Charz and Pika. My empty hand clenched. Their tails slapped like happy whips, heedless of my annoyance. Without Ginger, the only unconditional love and acceptance in my life would’ve come from them.
So what if their love is artificially bolstered by treats?
“Geo, did you put my glasses somewhere?” Cameron called from the laundry room.
No, I didn’t put your glasses anywhere.
“They’re on the kitchen counter.”
Where you left them last night, after conveniently ignoring that it was my turn to pick the show? Instead, we watched three episodes of yet another athleticendurance competition, where every contestant had the same over-the-top charisma to match their over-the-top ego. Now that other planets had contacted Earth, the contestants might be green or horned, but not much else had changed since my grandmother’s time.
I picked up his glasses and pushed the silent vacuum cleaner to the laundry room before I passed them to him.
He glanced up. “Thanks.”
My head used to rush when he pushed the frames over his long, straight nose. A Superman to Clark Kent moment—his perfect features made more human. But that old lightheadedness was gone.
“Er, did you happen to throw any of my clothes in when you did yours?” His eyes flicked a little sheepishly to the vacuum now stored in the wall hanger.
“No.” I stood there, rocking from one socked foot to the other, as he maneuvered around me out of the laundry room. The clink of the leashes and the harnesses he knocked together alerted Pika and Charz of an imminent walk. Their tiny nails clicked like a troupe of miniature tap dancers across the hardwood floor. The floor we’d agreedhewould clean today.
Mired in defeat, I reminded him again. “So…you said you’d do the floors today?”
“Damn it, Geo.” He eyeballed the too-small shirt I’d put on this morning. “Isn’t it enough that I walk your dogs for you? You could use the exercise.”
I pulled back my shoulders and sucked in my belly, even though no amount of sucking in would prevent it from poking out under the hem. Daily physical labor at the construction company I co-owned built muscles, but I enjoyed bread and beer, and my abs were buried under a thick stomach. “Ourdogs.”
“Whatever.” He dragged out the ‘er.’ “I do enough things I don’t want for you.” Cameron strode away.
Like a happy family, the three of them slipped out the door without a backward glance, and yet again, cleaning the house fell on my shoulders. This time with my heart cowering like a kicked dog’s.
Is he worth it?
The corner of a familiar off-planet employment brochure peeked out from under the vid-screen controller on top of the coffee table. After I’d resolutely blocked all the electronic junk mail Ginger spammed me with, these paper versions still showed up on the regular.
An out-of-place image of two aliens stood out among all the pictures of space shuttles, foreign landscapes and heavy equipment. Blue, with long tails, the taller one had an arm wrapped around the shorter one’s shoulder. The goofy grin he wore transcended species. I wasn’t sure if it hurt more to know love existed beyond Earth or if it hurt more to hope.
Inhaling deeply, I raised my gaze to the vaulted ceiling and scanned my home. A smile formed on my lips. House proud, I’d renovated the entire upstairs, removing the second bedroom and adding a huge en suite bathroom and a walk-in closet. I walked over to the open window and inhaled the sweet fragrance of the native plants I’d relandscaped with. Honeysuckles, wild roses and overripe blackberries wafted through the screen.
Slightly calmer, I finished cleaning the shit out of the house. And because Cameron wasn’t home, I did it blasting retro Lizzo remixes. Forty minutes of pondering intergalactic love later, the house shone, and now with the busy work out of the way, reality returned.
I scrubbed my palm over my beard. On more than one occasion, Cameron had said, “There are more important things in life than a clean house, Geo. I’ll do it later.”
Maybe he was right. I threw together a quick picnic lunch and hoped for the best. Roast beef on fresh sourdough for me, microbe-infused spinach wraps and kimchi for Cameron. After filling a water bottle for us and the dog water bottle Cameron had forgotten, I placed everything in my backpack.
Dahlias bloomed alongside my driveway. Not wanting them to nosedive with nothing to cling to—a metaphor for my life—I reminded myself to buy supports. Then, I headed to the local park.
Winding up the path to my favorite hilltop perch, I spotted my little family on the multi-purpose track below. I placed the picnic pack on the ground and sat on the manicured grass. Spectators cheered for a soccer game on the nearby pitch, and fried onions lingered in the warm breeze from the hotdog vendor beside the fountain.
Excited yips narrowed my focus to Charz and Pika, where they tugged on the leash Cameron held, trying desperately to get to me. The cropped shirt he wore highlighted the swath of golden skin above his low-riding sweats as he not-so-absently scratched his six-pack.
Damn, why hadn’t I changed my shirt? My hand automatically reached to stretch the fabric away from my gut.
Oblivious to the dogs, Cameron chatted up a jogger stretching beside him. His grin glowed in the distance. He’d done this before.
My heart lurched, but I always gave him the benefit of the doubt. Cameron loved me.
