Sparrow (14 page)

I
nod.

“So,
I’ll ask again,” she says.  “Do you want to be friends?”

I
weave my fingers through hers.  “You couldn’t pay me to stay away.”

“It’s
a small town parade, not the Rose Bowl.”

Addison
sticks her tongue out at me as she hands over four huge plastic bags.  “I
wanted to make sure I had enough.  I didn’t know how big the plow truck was.”

Standing
inside the doorway of the garage that houses nearly all of Dayton Landscaping’s
equipment, I take the bags from her.  I start to look inside as she turns
around and heads back toward her Hummer.  “Where are you going?” I ask.

“I’ll
be right back,” she says over her shoulder and picks up her pace.

Shrugging,
I head further into the warehouse to set down the holiday decorations.  I start
to rummage through the first bag, searching for a receipt.  There’s no way I’m
letting her pay for all of this.  Her decision to spend time with me is more
than enough; I’ve been geeked since I woke up this morning.

Who
am I kidding?  I’ve been geeked for the last week, since she lied to come over
to my house.

The
sound of nails clicking against concrete distracts me.  My head snaps up to
find Sam trotting happily in my direction, a big, red, velvet bow tied to his
collar.  His owner follows behind carrying a large thermos.

“Hey!” 
I kneel and pat my knee, calling the dog over.  Sam meets my outstretched
fingers for a good scratch.  “This is a surprise.  How have you been, buddy?” 
I’m talking to him like he’ll answer.

“Whiny,”
Addison responds for her pet.  “He wouldn’t leave my side today; I think his
hip is bothering him.  I dressed him up for the parade.  Do you care if he
rides along?”

“Not
at all,” I say.  “I’ve missed him.”  It’s the truth.  Sam and I have a
connection I can’t explain.  We have since the first day we met.

When
he’s satisfied with his rubdown, the dog gets interested in his unfamiliar
surroundings and walks away to check things out.  I stand and wipe my hands on
my jeans.

“He
really likes you,” Addison muses as her eyes follow Sam.  “Did you have a dog
when you were little?”

I
shake my head.  “I wanted one, but no.  I had a goldfish.  Mr. Bubbles.”

A
snort of laughter escapes her.  “Mr. Bubbles?”

I
fake annoyance.  “Don’t knock Mr. Bubbles.  I won him at the county fair,
throwing those plastic rings over bottle necks.  It cost my mom $20 to win that
fish.”

“Awww.” 
She smiles.  “I bet Mr. Bubbles was great.”

“Mr.
Bubbles was awesome,” I correct her.  “What’s that?” I nod toward the thermos
in her hands.

“Hot
chocolate.  I didn’t know how cold it would be in here.”

“Well,
you’re in luck.  The garage is heated.”

Addison
thrusts the drink at my chest.  “Great.  Let’s get to work.”

She
skirts around me and heads toward the bags on the ground.  “Okay.”  She starts
to open them.  “I got a big wreath and a small wreath.  Some lights.”  She
opens another bag.  “Bows. Oh, some sleigh bells.”  Yet more searching.  “A ton
of garland and a few boxes of tiny candy canes.”

My
forehead pinches.  “Why?”

“To
hand out.”  She picks up a box and holds it in front of her chest.  “Didn’t you
ever go to a parade as a kid?”

“Well,
yeah.”

“Didn’t
they give out candy?”

Oh. 
Well, yeah.

I
walk over to her.  “Guess you thought of everything.”

She
smirks.  “I’m female.  It’s what we do.”

I
roll my eyes.

Addison
glances around.  “Which truck are we decorating?”

I
jerk my thumb over my shoulder.  “The clean one with the huge plow on the
front.”

She
looks past me, then gets sarcastic.  “Are you going to give me shit all day?”

I
grin. “I’m a man.  That’s what we do.”

She
shakes her head and leans over, trading the box of candy canes for an armful of
garland.  “Here, take this.”  She hands the decorations to me and then finds
the wreaths, holding one in each hand.  “I think these should go on the front
and the back of the truck.  What do you think?”

“You’re
the brains behind this operation.  You lead, I follow.”

Over
the next hour, we sit on the ground side by side and play with fake pine
needles.  We make easy conversation and work in unison; I wind the multi-colored
strands of lights around the wreaths and the garland, and Addison adds the bows
and bells.  She asks about my Christmas plans.  I tell her I’ll spend the day as
usual, with my mom and my brother.  That said, I’m not sure how things will change
with Ashley in the picture.  She informs me that she and Derek will spend the
week in the Upper Peninsula with her sister’s family.  Marc and Meagan have a
two-year-old daughter, Livie, and it’s obvious Addison adores her niece.

“You
should see Derek with her,” she comments as she arranges and ties.  “He’s a
natural.”

“And
you’re not?”

She
shrugs.  “I love to tickle her belly and make her laugh.  I like to buy her
cute things and spoil her rotten.  But, when she’s upset, I panic.”

I
know nothing about kids.  “Does she get upset a lot?”

Addison
raises her eyebrows.  “Have you ever heard of the Terrible Two’s?”

“Vaguely.”

She
laughs.  “Everything is ‘me’, ‘mine’, and ‘I do it’.  If Livie gets frustrated,
she throws a fit.  Derek can always distract her, though.”

“Speaking
of,” I snap the batteries into place at the end of a light strand, “what does
he think about you helping me today?”

Addison
gives a sidelong glance and continues to tie the bells.  “He’s not a fan.”

I
frown, even though I expected her answer.  “Did you guys have a fight?”

Addison
is silent for a few moments before she responds.  Her focus is concentrated on one
of the last few sleigh bells she’s tying on to the garland.  When she finishes,
she looks at me.  “I’d say it was more of a spirited discussion.”

My
frown deepens.  As much as I want to spend time with her, I don’t want her to
argue with her husband.  I know how upset it makes her, and that’s the last
thing I want.

“You
shouldn’t fight with Derek,” I say.

“Oh,
really?” she asks and drops the decorations.  “At least once a week he goes out
with his friends.  I don’t tell him he can’t go, and I certainly don’t tell him
who he’s allowed to see.  I trust him.  It’s only fair I’m treated the same way.”

I
can tell by her tone the two of them have discussed this before.  I have to
take Addison’s side on this one; what she says makes sense.  If he’s hanging
out with friends, why can’t she do the same?

Then,
a realization hits.  “You’re using me,” I say incredulously.  “To get back at
him for his guy’s night out.”

Addison’s
eyes get big.  “No!  That’s not what I meant!”

I
laugh.  Honestly, I wouldn’t care if she used me.  The fact she’s willing to
argue with her husband about us speaks volumes.  She must feel pretty strongly
about our friendship to push him.

My
ego likes it.

I
wrap my arm around her and press her to my side.  “Sparrow, you can use me
anytime.  I can be a shoulder to cry on, an alibi, or bar night revenge…whatever
you need.”

She
lets out a tiny laugh.  “Thanks, but I would never use you.”

“You
can.”

“But
I won’t.”

I
raise my eyebrows at her playfully, questioning her sincerity, and she
giggles.  God, I love that sound.

After
a moment, she moves out from under my arm.  She picks up the truck decorations
again, and then looks at me.  Her smile fades into a smirk.

“Is
there a problem?” I ask.

She
doesn’t answer.  Instead, she reaches out and brushes her finger across my chin. 
“What’s up with this?”

“What?”
I run my hand along my jaw.  “I thought chicks dig the whole five o’clock
shadow thing.”

“Some
do,” she admits.

“And
you don’t?”

“That’s
not what I said.”

My
eyes narrow, trying to read her.  “Then, what are you saying?”

“It’s
just different.  There’s a lot more of you to get used to.”

More
of me?  I look down at myself and back at her again.  I’m in the best shape of
my life.  “What are you talking about?  Are you trying to tell me I’ve let
myself go?”

“Ah,
no.”

She
blushes a little and looks away, getting to her feet.  I think I hear her
mutter ‘just the opposite’ as she gathers the garland in her hands.  When her
arms are full, she changes the subject.  “A little help here?”

I
stand, start to reach for the decorations, and stop.  She thinks I look good. 
This is the perfect opportunity to give her more shit.  Friends are supposed to
joke around with each other, right?  I cross my arms.  “You think I’m hot.”

“Kyle.” 
She tries to give me a condescending look and fails.

“If
we’re gonna be friends, we have to be honest with each other.  We promised
never to lie.”  I lean forward.  “You think I’m hot.  Yes or no?”

She
steps back and some of the garland slips from her grip.  Instead of grabbing it
to help her, I pretend to study the ceiling.  “I’m not helping you until I get
an answer.”

Addison
lets out an irritated sigh.  “You’re the one who needs my help, remember?  I
could walk out of here right now.”

I
meet her eyes and shrug, like it wouldn’t be a big deal if she left.  My action
is a complete lie.  It would be a huge deal.  My day would be ruined.

“Fine,”
she huffs.  “You want the truth?”

I
smile and step closer, ready for her to fess up.  Instead, she raises an
eyebrow and gets cocky.  “You can’t handle the truth.”

“Ugh!”
I groan.  “That was terrible!  You are so
not
Jack Nicholson.”

She
laughs.  “C’mon.  If we don’t get this stuff on the truck, we’re going to be
late.”

~~~~

Shortly
before five o’clock, Addison, Sam, and I are directed to our designated spot in
the parade lineup.  We’re behind the high school marching band and in front of
an antique fire truck.  Once in place, I shift into park and leave my vehicle
running to keep the heat on.  It’s the first weekend in December, and the
temperatures have been in the twenties.  A few inches of snow fell over
Thanksgiving, and it’s still hanging around.

There’s
a knock on the passenger side window, and Addison rolls it down.  A chirpy
woman wearing a fluorescent yellow vest and holding a walkie-talkie greets us. 
“Hi!  Thanks for coming.  Here’s a schedule of the festival events, if you
don’t already have one.”  She hands Addison a piece of paper.  “We’ll get going
in about ten, fifteen, minutes and end up at the high school.  Any questions?”

Addison
looks at me, and I shake my head no.  “Nope, no questions,” she tells the
parade volunteer.

“Great. 
Cute dog,” the woman compliments Sam as he tries to poke his head out the open
window.

“Thanks.” 
Addison smiles.

The
volunteer walks away, and Addison looks at me.  “You didn’t tell me the parade
was part of a festival.”

“Kevin
set this thing up; I didn’t pay much attention.”  I lean over to look at the
paper in her hands.  “What do they have planned?”

She starts to read over the activities. 
“There’s ice carving, caroling, a tree lighting ceremony…oh!  Fireworks!”  She
looks at me, excited.  “We should stay and watch those.”

“You
want to?”

“Yeah. 
I can’t remember the last time I went to see fireworks.”

Her
answer strikes me as odd.  “Don’t you watch them on the Fourth?”

“Not
usually.”

Not
usually?  “I take it you and Derek aren’t very patriotic?”

She
chuckles.  “No.  He volunteers to work on the holidays for overtime.  Memorial
Day, the Fourth of July, Labor Day.  You know, the ones that aren’t big like
Christmas.  That way, his coworkers with families can have the time off.”

Well. 
Isn’t Derek a saint?

“I
usually watch the Detroit fireworks on TV.”

“You
have different plans this year,” I decide.  “Fourth of July.  Fireworks.  You
and me.”  I turn around.  “And Sam.”

She
smiles.  “It’s a date.”

I
wish.

Minutes
later, the parade gets underway.  It’s an uneventful process.  We pass through
town, and the band treats us to a repeated, three-song playlist of “Jingle
Bells
,
“
Rockin’ Around the Christmas
Tree,” and “Louie
Louie.”  The latter must be a staple, no matter what the season.  We roll along
slow enough to toss out the candy canes, and I’m secretly relieved Addison
remembered to buy them.  The streets are lined with families, and the fire
truck behind us is passing out candy, too.