Chapter Thirty-three

THE ANDERCHRONICLES

By Me, Ellee

[WARNING: The following story has been rated FNF*]
*Fiction NOT Fact

[Second Warning: All humans and canines in the following story are strictly a product of this writer’s over-active and sometimes unbridled imagination, and should not be confused with any in real life—no matter how tempting it might be, unless, of course you want to, in which case I can no longer assume any responsibility for anything. You’re on your own at that point.]

"A Little Bit of AnderRomance"

Part I: Letters in Pink

O
ur reflections in the highly polished hardwood floors were distorted just enough to resemble a Picasso painting, as Molly and I slid down the long hallway playing our usual game of Slide 'N' Glide, being stopped only by the teakwood mail table when we slid into it, toppling a very tall stack of pink envelopes, which in turn triggered the pink avalanche that buried us underneath.

"Look at all these letters, Molly," I remarked, as I picked up a bunch and let them cascade through my fingers to the floor once again. "What do you think our Andy is up to now?"

I hadn’t seen him since our encounter in the arboretum—I think he was avoiding me.

Molly barked as she sniffed the letters. I took one and sniffed at it, too, when I detected a scent wafting from it, and it was one I knew well—ANDY’S! Right away I knew I had to find out about those letters. Who were all these people who could warrant a pink, scented letter from Andy? And why was he sending them such a letter? And what was in those letters? AND why were they all PINK?

The letter I was holding was addressed to Kezeela, and the return address said,

Monsieur Onderrrrrsunnnn Cuuupear
Chez Moi
New York City, NY

As I shuffled through all the other envelopes, I saw that each one was hand-written by Andy, and that all the ‘i’s had been carefully dotted with a little red heart that had a tiny white tuttie dot placed near the top, on the right side. On the back of the envelopes, sealing the top flap to the bottom, was a purple heart with a cupid’s arrow shot straight through the middle. It reminded me of the arrow shot straight through my heart—the one still causing me pain—the one still causing my heart to bleeeeed! And, not only that . . . I-I think I deserve a purple heart, too—for enduring all that pain and torture, inflicted by the one who shot the arrow in the first place. There should be a law against that! People just shouldn’t be able to do that! DANG!

Molly barked, bringing me back to the letters, which I then started counting. The total came to seventeen. One was addressed to Jen; another to Ally; one to Meg; also one each to Mzh, Mizzkel, Jennifer, Barbara, Purple Tie, and another was addressed to Sissy— now there was one I knew. Xtina, who I assumed was the clerk from the department store where Andy and I had gone the day after Christmas, was next, along with Julia, Kezeela, Klementine Kessup, Phylicia, Robin, and Mysticspiral. And . . . and . . . MARTELL! Aaack! There was one for her, too. Hummmmmmm, I thought, they were ALL female!

Molly and I were sprawled on the floor for some time pondering all those letters. I had them spread out in front of us trying to decide if we could discreetly open any of them. Molly helped me by pushing them around with her busy snout—her long, soft ears flopping back and forth over her eyes as she worked. When it became obvious they were all tightly sealed, with absolutely no chance whatsoever of accidently opening one, Molly looked up at me with her large round eyes as if to say, well, we tried, and then swiped a very long wet doggie tongue across my face.

"How will we ever find out what’s in those letters, now, Molly-girl?" I sighed.

"What makes you think they are ANY of your business?!!!!" The voice behind me blared out, like an over-sized, aging fog horn.

I spun around on my bottom and there stood Harriet—looking bigger and more massive than usual. I hadn’t even heard her approaching, I had been so involved with those letters.

"Oh!" I cried out, looking every bit the culprit, with the envelopes spread out on the floor, all around me.

"PUT THE LETTERS BACK ON THE SILVER MAIL TRAY—WHERE THEY BELONG!"

"Harriet, I know what you’re thinking, but the truth is . . . they fell . . . OFF. . . the table and scattered all over the floor."

"Don’t feed me that bunk! We both know how they ended up on the floor. Now put them back! And for your enquiring mind, which I’m sure won’t rest until you know, those happen to be invitations to Anderson’s Valentine Party, which he is giving next week for a very select few of his most adoring fans."

Then she turned and lumbered off down the hall before I could pump her for more information. Molly was growling under her doggie breath.

"Oh, come on now, Molly, she’s not THAT bad." Molly growled again. "Well, okay . . . maybe she IS, but we do need to be nice—don’t we?"

I realized I hadn’t seen Harriet since her ‘date.’ I was still curious about it. I needed details. However, she probably wouldn’t tell me anything.

As I gathered all the envelopes to restore them to the silver mail tray above, it occurred to me, that since I was one of his adoring fans, there would be an invitation for me, too. But, it also occurred to me that I hadn’t seen MY invitation. So I went through each one carefully looking for my name. I just knew I’d find it. But when I didn’t, I went through again. Still not seeing it, I fingered through the third time, this time conceding it really wasn’t there. Sighing, I looked over at Molly, who seemed as eager as I was to see MY invitation from Andy, and admitted,

"Molly, there is no invitation for me."

Quietly, she put her head on my lap and looked up at me with her big brown, liquid eyes which now mirrored the sadness of mine. But suddenly, an idea sailed through my mind which was so obvious, I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it in the first place.

"Molly," I exclaimed, as I perked up, causing Molly to jump to her feet in anticipation of my forthcoming announcement, "there is NO invitation in that stack because I live here! Andy doesn’t need to SEND me one. He can personally, hand-deliver mine—probably when he comes home tonight after work!"

And with that, Molly barked, I squealed a little "yeeeeeeeessss!" and we both jumped up and continued our game—after I restored the letters to the mail tray.

I spent the rest of the day in anticipation of receiving MY invitation—PERSONALLY—from Andy, after he got back from work. I even stayed up later than usual. But, on his return, I didn’t see him; he went straight to bed. The next morning, nothing. That night, still nothing. And so it went for a whole week, each day ending on a more depressing note than the day before. I wondered if this was all part of the 'avoiding Ellee movement' which had taken roots shortly after our little tete a tete upstairs in the arboretum. It was beginning to look that way.

The night before the party as I lay in my bed, finally resigned to the fact that I, personally, was NOT going to Andy’s Valentine party, and resigned to the fact that I was for some reason off limits to him, I heard Molly whimpering and then scratching on my door. I thought this was rather unusual behavior for her because most nights she was in Andy’s bedroom. I figured she would go away shortly, but when she didn’t, I went to the door and the moment I opened it a crack, she pushed her way in and got up on my bed, promptly falling asleep.

Some time later, I heard Andy calling her from the hallway. Getting out of bed, I grabbed my robe, and made my way to the door, all the way struggling with my tousled hair, which was covering my face and making it difficult to see, especially in the dimness of night. When I opened the door, I was still hassling with it, trying to make an opening so I could see Andy.

"She’s in here, Andy," I said, shaking my head from side to side, then trying to toss the hair back, away from my face. But when that didn’t work, I leaned forward, half way to the floor, allowing gravity to bring it all together. And then, in one big, spring-loaded flip, I tossed the whole mane backwards, hoping that would fix the problem.

". . . Ellee, what are you doing? . . .What’s wrong with your head? Why are you flipping it around like that?"

He seemed annoyed at my fussing.

"It’s my hair, Andy. It's giving me fits."

And at that, I scooped it all up with both hands, and held it together on the top of my head. The expression on his face at that moment indicated he couldn’t make sense of what I was doing. He cast a funny look my way then asked,

"Ellee, what’s Molly doing in there? She shouldn’t be here! She sleeps in MY room!"

"I'm sure I don’t know. She just wanted to be with me, I guess"

And then I turned the entire mass of black, silken hair loose, while Andy watched it cascading, unrestrained over and around my shoulders, flouncing and bouncing. He seemed to lose his train-of-thought at that moment, as his eyes followed the incredible journey my hair was taking.

"Ummmmmm . . . Ellee . . . Uhhhhh . . . "He took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before allowing it to escape, as his eyes lingered on my hair. "Don’t DO that!"

"Don’t do WHAT, Andy?"

"That!" His fingers gestured towards my hair.

"What?" I responded, my eyes looking down at the lustrous strands Andy was pointing to.

"NEVER MIND!" he said abruptly. "Molly doesn’t belong in your room. Molly, here girl." He bent down to coax his dog from my bed. "Come to Daddy . . . come on . . ."

Molly stared at Andy for a few seconds and then went hesitantly to him. After he patted her and scratched behind her ears, cooing the words how’s my widdle girl in baby talk, she walked back over by me and sat down. This surprised Andy, and he didn't seem too pleased about it.

"Now why do you figure she did that?" he asked, as he stood up, looking at me for the answer.

"I don’t know, Andy," I replied shrugging my shoulders and still trying to get the remaining hair out of my eyes.

"Ellee . . . she’s my dog."

As we stood there looking at each other, I wondered why that made a difference to him. For several minutes neither of us said anything. Then quietly, he reached out with long, graceful fingers and cleared the last lock of hair away from my eyes, tucking it tenderly behind my ear. It happened in one of those automatic moments, when you don’t really think about what you’re doing. You just do it. It seems natural . . . and right. And that’s what Andy did. Then he called out my name—softly, almost imperceptibly. Not that anything was to follow. Not that he expected me to respond. It was nothing more than a simple pronouncement. And yet, I felt there was so much going on in that one word. I could see it in his eyes. He had never said my name quite that way before.

After that he turned and walked away slowly, but before rounding the corner at the end of the hall, he looked back, just long enough that I could see there was some kind of struggle going on inside him. He left Molly there with me.


Bye for now,
Love,
Ellee