Chapter 17

Josh woke up to the yowling of Tigger. He wasn’t loud, but he was insistent. Josh stumbled down the stairs trying to find out why Tigger was so loud and found the orange cat sitting by the kitchen door. There, next to the cat, were three mice ... actually, three halves of mice. Just the heads and forward legs of the mice were left, Tigger had eaten the soft, chewy parts in the back.

“Good boy Tigger!” As a reward, Josh gave him the remaining sardines for a breakfast treat, and had finished serving Tigger and started making coffee when his morning alarm went off. “I get up at six thirty, Tigger,” Josh scolded the cat. “Let’s adjust your clock.” Tigger merely finished the sardines and hopped up on the counter and watched Josh make his daily breakfast. Two microwave poached eggs on a split toasted English muffin with sausage links. Then he sat down at the kitchen table with his tablet to catch up on the news. He normally used a laptop, but Josh had experience with cats. They like to help type, but tablets are a mystery to cats and they ignore them.

The phone rang, and it was Veronica. “Good morning darling,” said Josh.

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked. She had sat staring at her phone in terror, afraid to dial home and receive the retribution she earned.

“No, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you drunk, I’m sure it was a rare occurrence.”

“I was drinking grapefruit fizz,” said Veronica sadly. “I thought it was grapefruit juice, but it was grapefruit vodka.”

“Lesson learned,” said Josh. “God I miss fresh squeezed grapefruit juice from fresh picked fruit. Our neighbor had a grapefruit tree and I’d help pick them every year. I love grapefruit.”

“You said you couldn’t have them because of your meds.”

“Bah, doctors! What do they know? And it was a VA doctor, he was probably thinking of yams when he said grapefruit. If it was a well-made drink I would have done the same thing. How are the meetings with the client going?”

“He seems more interested in my boobs,” groaned Veronica.

“He’s clearly a man with distinguished tastes.”

“You men are all alike!” Veronica nearly screeched.

“NO! That’s silly. Personally, I like to look at your legs.”

“You like my legs?”

“Yes!” said Josh. “They’re flawless! Long and shapely, they’re picture perfect. I love them most when they’re wrapped around my waist or squeezing my ears.”

“Squeezing your ears? I ... oh, I get it.” Josh could tell that Veronica was blushing. If he said, “I like to lick your pussy,” she would get angry for his being crude. But she will get turned on to no end with a roundabout description like ‘Squeezing my ears.’ Then she realized what he was implying. “What’s wrong with my boobs?” she demanded.

“Nothing, they’re beautiful, I love them, but your legs are spectacular!”

“You’re trolling me,” said Veronica. “You’re using reverse psychology trying to convince me to walk around the house with no shirt.”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d walk around the house with no pants.” His teasing had a point. As a dancer, she was proud of her legs and she loved it when somebody noticed. “All kidding aside, I miss you, dear Nica. I miss the entire package. Work is no longer a fun place to visit. It’s just ... work. Every moment without you feels like a chapter missing from our story.”

Veronica could only gasp. Josh, the war hero, the man whose idea of exercise is heading into the woods with an axe. The macho man who wouldn’t drive something that wasn’t four wheel drive was a romantic poet! He continued, “The world moves on, but my heart lingers in the space where you should be. I miss you—not just in passing thoughts, but in every sigh, every stolen glance at the sky, wishing you were here beside me.”