Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

It’s been a crappy week, and this is just the bread that makes the whole thing a shit sandwich.

“Oh, tonight? Tonight is just our meet-cute. It’s the night we’ll tell our kids about one day. Remember?”

All I know is that the first thing that comes to mind is, If I live, I’m coming after you.

A familiar feeling stirs inside me. The one where I’m in the way or not good enough—a burden. I know it’s not true. I know that’s not what he meant. But I feel the sting of it all the same.

If you want to be Gwen Dawson, mother of raccoons, then I won’t stand in your way. I support you in that venture. You can be seen and heard in my house. And you are welcome to befriend overgrown rodents who may or may not carry diseases. I won’t judge you.”

But it’s more than that. It’s him knowing me. Knowing I don’t want roses. Or diamonds. I want this. Adventures. With him. “This is the best birthday gift anyone has ever given me.”

Moving from place to place has meant that I don’t create friendships like that. The kind that are built over years and decades, holidays, favors—a kind of friendship that feels more like family.

“Is this…is this…” She leans closer, her fingers hovering just above the variety of food laid out. “Is this a raccoon charcuterie?” I chuckle. “It’s whatever you want to call it, Gwen. But I picked out an array of options to see if we can get your raccoon friend back.”

Because if I’m about to become a raccoon dad, you’d better believe it’s going to be the coolest raccoon that anybody’s ever known.

It’s because you know exactly what to do. You know what’s right, but it scares you. It’s not indecision. It’s being grown-up enough to know that the world doesn’t revolve around you. There’s so much in there at play.”

When I pull up, the first thing I see is an exhausted-looking Ford Grant stepping into his Mercedes G-Wagon. He has a small plastic box in his hand. I hop out, coffee in hand, squinting to get a better look. I can see a small, gray mouse inside the box. When he catches me gawking, he deadpans, “Don’t even fucking ask.”

Rosies' mouse LOL

“So glad we found you.” He smiles, and it might be the most reassuring smile in the world. Something about him screams confident and capable, and it eases the knot in my chest. He reaches a hand toward me. “Hi. I’m Beau. Here to help you out. What do you say we get the hell off this mountain?” I shake his hand through the open window, grateful. “Sounds like a really, really great plan. You are officially my hero.” “Ah, I don’t know if I would take it that far. I just got in from out of province to help out, walked into the station to hear a fella up in one of those planes losing his goddamn mind on the radio over finding you. Figured I could make a detour on my way to the front lines.” I wince. “Sorry. Is he being a nightmare?” The man grins. “Nah. I’d be the same over my girl too.” I blink at him, too stunned to know how to respond, but he forges ahead, unconcerned by silence. “Are you good to follow us down, or do you want me to hop in with you?”

BEAU FREAKING EATON

“You’re a fucking wild card. Unpredictable and never what I expect. You scare the hell out of me every damn day. But today more than any of them. Because I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks. So does my heart. “And I love you, and I hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell you.”

when I hear Beau’s voice from behind me. “Ma’am, do you have marijuana plants in the back of your truck?” Bash pulls back ever so slightly, our watery eyes meeting tenderly as I shrug. “Sorry, I couldn’t leave Maya’s babies behind.” Bash pulls me in again now, a tearful chuckle getting lost in the strands of my hair. “Like I said, a fucking wild card.”