St. Izzy of F Street: Chapter 11-12
A Pre-Apocalyptic Novel: Installment 6 of 28
Cover design by Kris Norris; main photo by Alonso Reyes
Back cover description
An autistic journalist in Washington, DC, befriends a homeless woman who wields an “End is Near” sign and proclaims the coming destruction of the world. Sonny remains skeptical of Izzy’s prophecies, even as they come true with increasingly dire results—natural disasters, wars, and the loss of his career. One message catches the FBI’s attention, which sends Sonny into depression and panic attacks. He can ignore Izzy as delusional or help spread the word, but he needs a sign before it’s too late.
Previously in Chapter 10
Sonny tries to find Izzy to talk about the plane crash he’d requested, but she’s nowhere to be found. However, his old girlfriend from Missouri finds him. And he still needs to ask Dori how she woke up in his bed… in his underwear.
Chapter 11
“This is Him being patient.”
Dori wanted to check in, see how I was doing, if I needed any help or anything. Perky as always. Nothing at all wrong, according to her tone of voice. Except she wanted to come over. Be involved in my life and work apparently. Maybe it was a mistake having her serve as my assistant for a day. Especially after she spent the night in my bed doing… Doing what? No clue.
“Not really much work today,” I said. “Just a few odds and ends.”
“You eat lunch yet?” she asked.
I couldn’t lie. “I’m starving.”
“Mexican? And tell Levi too.”
“He just went to bed.”
“Leave him be then. See you in twenty.”
I thought maybe I should ask about Friday night over the phone, but that felt chickenshit. Might as well get some tacos down first. Try to read her face as she answered my big question. Reading faces. Not really in my skill set. Other than disappointment. Years of practice taught me that one.
After nearly half an hour of waiting for a table, getting our drinks, placing our order, and food finally arriving, my stomach made more noise than the Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day.
Dori was her usual dose of chipper, verging on chirpy. Nothing at all wrong, unless she was brilliant at hiding it. Or maybe she thought there was something happening between us and she was over-the-moon happy. Did she think she was my girlfriend?
She grew cuter every day. And I couldn’t get the image of her in boxers out of my head. My boxers.
Halfway through my order of tacos, I finally worked up half a nerve.
“Dori, I have to ask you something.”
“Sure, anything.” She shoved an enormous bite into her face. Like she knew, or presumed, what I would ask and needed to buy time before she’d have to answer.
“Well, um, we’d had a lot to drink the other night. Then the jet crashed and I woke up... and... you were in bed… with me and... I wasn’t really wearing anything and—”
Dori erupted in laughter and nearly choked on her mouthful of green-chili burrito. She waved at me and covered her mouth while she tried to swallow. Then she washed it down with Mexican Coca-Cola, followed by an award-winning belch.
“Okay, okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. But have you been thinking all this time that something might have happened?”
“It crossed my mind. I don’t remember anything. I have no idea how many of those putrid shots you forced on me. I don’t remember going home or going to bed. Just, we were at the pub, then the crash, and there we were.”
“And you in all your resplendence.” She winked at me. “I should keep you guessing. Maybe I roofied you. Or I could tell you we had mad wild sex that involved bondage and a variety of sex toys. I was feeling quite fertile.” She lost her shit again.
By this point, I guessed nothing happened. “Fine, have your fun. Then how did you wind up in my bed? In my underwear?”
“You make it sound so sordid.”
“You’re the one who brought up ropes and dildos.”
“That’s not sordid. But leather straps. Rope chafes.”
I swear she winked again. Or maybe an eye twitch thing.
“Why don’t you go through the sequence of events for me?” I finished my third taco and waited.
She wiped her eyes with a napkin. Laughed so hard she’d conjured up tears.
“We walked back to your place. Levi was working at the kitchen table. I asked if he had a T-shirt or something I could sleep in, and he said to go in his room and find one on the floor that didn’t stink. You, always the gentleman, even when you’re shitfaced, said, ‘Come with me.’ You pulled a clean T-shirt and pair of shorts out of an actual dresser drawer. Folded. Even your undies were folded. I’m impressed, by the way. Your mother raised you well.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said so.”
“Then, I went into the bathroom to change and out to the couch to catch some shut-eye. Except Levi was working, and the lights were on, and he was talking to someone on the computer. I started to go to his room to sleep, but I remembered what his room looked like. What it smelled like. So, I stuck my head in your room to ask if you were still awake. You weren’t. But you were on the far side of the bed, so I slipped into the other side. Got a bad case of the bed spins and thought I was gonna hurl. Then it settled down and the next thing I knew, the whole room rattled with the explosion.”
She stopped to grin at me again. “And then, you jumped out of bed, morning wood pointing the way.”
She finally paused for another bite.
“That’s it?” Relief and embarrassment for not remembering rolled over me.
“If more than that happened, I don’t remember it either.”
“That’s good news. It was really awkward not knowing if something happened between us. Levi seems a bit miffed too.”
Her eyes sparkled and lips curled up at the corners as an elfin mischief crossed her face. “Sooo,” she dragged out, “let’s not fill him in. If he asks, we just smile and say, ‘We were both so drunk, we don’t remember.’”
Dori just got even cuter.
~~~
Izzy looked at me, the smug floating around her like smoke from the grade school. “What do you think now?” she said. “Did He Who Sent Me pass your test?”
“Um, yeah. I guess He did. But tell me, how did you know this would happen? Are you psychic or something?”
That disappointed look crossed her face again. Maybe disgust. “You still don’t believe? He drops a plane practically on your roof, at your request, and you’d rather believe I’m a fortune teller or palm reader or something.”
“How did you know I lived near the crash? Are you stalking me?”
Izzy laughed, but it wasn’t a ‘this is humorous’ laugh. It was more of a ‘you’re pathetic’ laugh. She reached into her coat and pulled out the Post that looked like she’d used it as a bedsheet on the Metro floor last night.