Must Love Otters by Eliza Gordon Read Free Book Online

surgery shows, the cooking shows, even Grey’s Anatomy . Gone.
    “Hol, what are you doing?” Delete. Delete. Delete. “Babe, don’t! Come on!” He drops the pile of packages and crap from his lap, nearly upsetting the beer bottle resting perilously close to the edge of the coffee table. My coffee table, covered in his shit. “Jesus, Hol, that’s like a month’s worth of shows!” He wrestles the remote out of my hands, moves back like I’ve just committed the ghastliest of ghastlies.
    Joe is smiling. “And that is why I don’t live with a chick,” he mumbles.
    “Mushroom Cap Joe—that’s what they call you, right?” I say. He squints, smile melting. Shifts his head ever so slightly. “Because of the size of your …” I circle my finger around my crotch. “Were you born like that, or was it some sort of weird industrial accident?”
    “You’re a crazy bitch.”
    I stand and tower over him where he sits rigid against the cushions of the remarkably ugly sofa. “I’m not the one with the gnome-sized dick, trying to get into the pants of every new trainee in the city. Everyone knows, Joe. The dispatch center is abuzz with delightful gossip, and your penis comes up more often than not. When we need a good laugh. I’m embarrassed for you, actually. Really, I am.”
    Oh, damn, that felt gooooood .
    His face turns even redder and ruddier than it was a moment prior. He guzzles what’s left of his beer and grabs his coat. “Fucking glad she’s your problem, Keith.”
    The door slammed closed, Keith turns to me, eyes incredulous. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
    “I’m tired. Tired of fucking around, waiting for shit to get better. Because shit doesn’t get better—it just stinks and smears and stains everything. I think I might be done with shit.” I walk over and turn off the television. “I’m going out. I’ll be back in three hours. When I return, I want you and your jump kit and the Yorkies to make like an embolism and dissolve. Gone. Poof. Vanished.”
    “Come on, Hol, sit down and let’s talk about this. You’re … did something bad happen today? Did someone die? Is this about your nipples?”
    I laugh under my breath. I totally forgot about my blistered nipples. I pick up one of my otter trinkets from the top of my pathetic bookshelf. “You see these two otters? These five-dollar resin animals have more of a life than I do. They have each other. Mona has Herb and they have their sons and the ducks. Shit, even Nurse Bob has his gals at work and his fishing flies and that satanic goat. Everyone has more of a life than I do.”
    “Is this about getting married? Because we can totally do that if you want.”
    “No, Keith, this is not about getting married.”
    “Is it because I didn’t record your nature shows? Hol, come on, let’s talk about this. You’re obviously upset—”
    “Yeah. I’m upset. I had a shit day. I’m tired of being bossed around. I’m tired of Les staring at me over his Black Book of Death and of Troll Lady accusing me of touching her trolls and of getting in trouble at work because I’m not doing my job the way they think I should be doing it, and I’m really tired of thinking about why my former best friend dumped me and how all the asshats on Facebook get to have sparkly lives while I fester in this shithole—”
    “You’re just overtired. Let’s have a beer and I’ll clean up my mess. I can give you a shoulder massage. We can make lists, like the couples’ counselor told us to do, figure out what’s wrong.”
    I step away from him. If he touches me—if he looks at me with sad eyes, I’ll cave. “I need a break. We need a break. I need you to just … go.”
    “I don’t want to go. I want to be here with you.”
    “I don’t want you here.”
    “Hol, come on.”
    “I said, I don’t want you here. Please. Keith. Take the dogs. You have three hours to figure something out. If you’re not gone when I get back, I’ll call in every favor