“No, I’ve realized you’ve done more than enough for me. Good night, Tidy Girl.” What kind of person tattoos TAKE on their own hand, anyway? Apparently, someone who’s acutely aware that that’s what he does.

Every bath I’ve ever had, I’ve lain here listening to the lick of water on the edges of the tub and my own pulse. I’m back to where I’ve always been, just floating, completely alone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I’m surprised to find Teddy slumped over the tiny table in our shared courtyard when I open my front door in the morning. “Good morning.”

“Morn,” is the slurred reply. He’s drawing in a sketchbook, but he flips it closed when I approach. He notices my mug. “Oh, my, fucking, God.”

“Would you like some coffee, Theodore Prescott?”

A bleary eye blinks through his tousled hair. “I would marry you for coffee.”

I absolutely itch to go inside for my hairbrush, to bring this mess back to glass-shine perfection. But that’s his strategy, right? He’s attracting females with his plumage. “No proposal necessary. How do you take it?”

“Black and sweet.” He’s drawing again, but closes the book again when I return.

I spent a long time thinking about how he retreated last night. It’s important that from now on, Teddy earns everything he gets. “I want one drawing for this cup of coffee. No freebies.”

“Sure.” He opens to a fresh page. “What do you want?”

“A tortoise.” I set the mug down.

“That reminds me.” The pen goes to the page, and he begins a long, flat curve. “I did a terrible thing last night. I’m just working myself up to tell you.”

I wait, but he won’t volunteer it. “Were you comfortable last night?”

“If my Fairy God-Neighbor hadn’t looked out for me, I would have cried myself to sleep. Thank you so much.”

“That’s okay.”

Full disclosure: I tried to leave him alone to fend for himself. I finished my bath, ate my chicken Kiev and vegetables, washed dishes, and spent time approving new Heaven Sent You Here forum members. I took my late-night walk around the grounds, flashlight in hand, completing the checklist I’ve got in my phone.

I finished up, as I always do, at the western edge, where I hung from the chain-link fence with both hands and listened for motorbikes. I probably looked like a prisoner.

As I was brushing my teeth, Teddy still wasn’t back. I felt terrible about my lack of charity, especially to the boss’s son. Like a model Fairy God-Neighbor, I left on the courtyard table a stack of the following items:

? One set of sheets (cloud print)

? One towel and matching bath mat

? One quilt

? One toothbrush (red)

? One roll of toilet paper

? One spare pillow from my bed (how strangely blushworthy)

Like a mom, I say, “Your mattress is queen size. Anyway, have a good day with the Parlonis. I’m sure you’ll do great.” I go to leave.

“Wait. Something bad happened last night when I was walking back from the parking lot. I knocked but you didn’t answer. Were you asleep?” He drags a hand through his hair. It shines like a raven’s wing, blue black, slightly evil, totally beautiful. With a groan, he reaches under the table and brings out a torn Kleenex box. Inside is a golden bonnet tortoise that doesn’t look so great. “I stepped on it, and now you’ll have to fill out a form.”

“I had my headphones on.” After I’d left the bundle of supplies out for him, I’d had a sudden paranoia that he’d interpret it as a love token. I swaddled myself in bed with my laptop and turned up the volume of my Heaven Sent episode. I tried too hard to not hear him return.

“I took it to the after-hours vet clinic, but they only stabilized it with painkillers and told me to find a reptile specialist.” He nudges a lettuce leaf closer to the tortoise’s disinterested face. “The crack it made under my shoe. I still hear it and feel it.”

I’m sure no one has ever felt so rotten about stepping on a tortoise. “I’m sorry, Teddy.” His expression falls. “No, it’s not time to call a priest just yet. We can fix it.”

I’m grateful for the practical task. I get my kit, put on gloves, and we lift the injured tortoise out. It’s a small one, the size of a deck of cards. “Well, it can move all its legs. That’s good.”

“That’s what they said last night. But here.” He indicates the cracked shell. “They’ve put a gel in there to stop infection, but it’s not fixed. They didn’t have the stuff they need. Lucky I live next door to a reptile specialist.”

“I know a couple of things, but I’m not an expert.” I follow the crack and try to visualize the damage, based on past x-rays I’ve seen. “The shell needs to be repaired with resin. Maybe wire for this section.”

“Can you do that?” He’s impressed when I nod. “You really are like a vet. Is that what your goal is? Renata talked over you yesterday in the interview.” He picks up his pen and recommences sketching. The tortoise is coming to life on the page. He runs the pen along, maybe like a tattoo needle, linking lines, filling in texture.

I tell the tortoise, “My childhood dream was to be a vet, once upon a time. But not anymore, obviously. I’m a babysitter. These guys are valuable on the black market, apparently. It’s part of my reason for living on-site.”

“Your setup here looks pretty professional.”

“I just give them a place to rest and recover.” I go to the edge of the low enclosures I’ve put together in the courtyard. “I think number 44 has to go to the Reptile Zoo. We’ll send this one along for an x-ray and they can do the repair. They come through town pretty regularly, and they don’t charge us.”

“Wish I’d known that before I flirted the vet’s receptionist into giving me an account.” He grins at the memory.

I feel a pang, but it also injects a little resin into my heart. This is what he does. I’ve got to keep these Teddy Shields Up. “I know you didn’t get your money’s worth. Sorry I didn’t hear you. I’m not used to having anyone else around.”

He frowns over his tiny victim. “I knew you’d be really disappointed with me for this.” He’s got eyes like a little kid when he looks up, expecting a scolding. “You’ve never stepped on one, I bet.”

“I’ve been walking around these paths in the dark for years now. I’m sure you’ll watch your step.” I take a red lipstick out of my kit. “This one is number 50.”

“You rescue them and let them have a soft landing. I’ve never identified with a tortoise so much in my life.” He picks up his pen and writes a number 50 on the back of his hand. “I don’t think it’s too late for you to be a vet.”

I’m flustered. “I’m just an office assistant. Anyone can do this.” I turn to a fresh sheet and give him the clipboard. “You can do the form. Write his ID on his shell. Before you ask, I’ve tried the label maker, but they don’t stick. Long wear lipstick is perfect.”

He takes the lipstick and initials the shell TJ. “Teddy Junior. Where are you going to put him?”

“Just with the others.”

When it’s time to hand both the creature and the paperwork over, Teddy looks at my outstretched hand like he doesn’t trust me. Now he’s squinting up at the sky, checking for rain. He looks around the courtyard. It’s not good enough for his little prince.

Maybe like my sketch-for-coffee deal, it would be better if Teddy had to fix this himself. Besides, he invested a lot in this creature. “If it makes you feel better, you can keep him until his ride arrives. Just keep the box very level, don’t jiggle him around.” We put some bedding material in the box.

Teddy checks the time on his phone and does one of his huge lion-roar yawns. “Shit, I’ve got to start work soon. I have not been awake this early in years.”

I’m perplexed enough to recheck my watch. “It’s eight A.M.” I’m so early for work myself, I give myself a break and sit down on the cold metal chair beside him. Another thing I’ve never done? Actually sat in this courtyard in the morning sunshine.

“I can’t function this early. How bad is today going to be for me? Here’s your drawing,” he adds offhand, scribbling his initials in the bottom corner. I take the page he’s torn out for me. How was this detailed tortoise rendered with so little apparent effort, with a one-dollar biro? I expected a cute cartoon and I now own a one-off piece of art. I need to frame this.

His ego will be inflating but I don’t even care. “Teddy, this is amazing.”

Careless shrug. “So’s this coffee.” He turns over to a fresh sheet in his notebook and begins drawing with loose, easy motions. The outline of a long wool cardigan emerges, shaped onto a female figure. She’s rounded nicely at the breast and hip, and there’s an arch to the back and a flattering slim line to the waist.

I ask, “Where’d you go last night?”

“The bowling alley. Memory Lanes has got this insane thing on the bar menu called Frankenfries, and every now and then I can’t say no to the craving.”