Author note: I'll bet most of you can figure out from which romantic comedy of several years ago I adapted this piece.
PEOPLE IN GLASS HOUSES
Kyra hung the last of her clothes back in her old closet in Reba's house.
"I'm starting to feel like a foster kid with all the moving back and forth," she said.
"Nah," said Reba, "If you were a foster kid we'd actually treat you well."
Kyra guffawed. "No chance of that."
Reba hugged Kyra and played with her hair. "You know that Barbara Jean and your Dad's divorce is not your fault, don't you?"
Kyra looked at her mom and rolled her eyes. "Please. If I couldn't bend them to my will, nothing would have helped."
Reba hugged her again. "That's my little Stalin. Now wash your hands; we're having Barbara Jean's pot roast."
Kyra smiled. "You knew she'd feel guilty about me having to move back in."
Reba feigned shock. "I said nothing."
"But I noticed you didn't go to the grocery yesterday like you always do. You knew she'd be making dinner."
Reba shrugged. "Hey, what would you rather have: my meatloaf or Barbara Jean's pot roast?"
Kyra smiled. "I just wish Dad hadn't decided to move to Austin. I mean, I know he's just covering for that dentist on chemo, but what if he really likes it? What if he doesn't come back?"
"Let's not open that package until it's sitting on the steps, okay?"
After supper, Reba helped Barbara Jean with the dishes.
"What are your plans, Barbara Jean?"
"Plans?"
"Well, I know the station recommended you for that job in Phoenix…"
"I've finally found a good therapist here in Houston for Henry, his school is cooperative, and I refuse to put my career ahead of his well-being. The weather position here will just have to be enough."
"But Phoenix was going to pay for you to get a degree in meteorology. And Phoenix has therapists and good schools, probably even better than Houston."
Reba had begun to have some hope of seeing less of Barbara Jean. They had become friends; that was true. But Barbara Jean once a month would be so much more do-able than Barbara Jean 24/7.
"Sounds like you want to get rid of me, Reba."
"Fat chance," said Reba.
"Plus," continued Barbara Jean, "If I leave, then no one else will push you to go out with men and you'll die a lonely old lady with lots of cats."
"I hate cats," said Reba. "And besides, you are as single as I am."
"Right! So we can hunt together! I've already been on several websites and staked out a few, did some introductions, and I think I've found about ten possibilities."
"Excuse me?"
"I've entered you into several online dating websites, and…"
Reba grabbed her by the collar and marched BJ to the laptop. "Show me."
For the next hour, Reba forced BJ to erase her from all the sites BJ would confess to. Reba knew there were probably more, but she'd just have to deal with the e-mails, calls, or whatever when they came up.
--
The next day one came up. Reba had just finished showing a house across the street from an elementary school, when she saw BJ with a man waving from two doors down. The man was holding flowers and a big box of candy and was half the size of BJ.
"Not Terry again!" Terry was a very short and nice but slightly creepy man with whom BJ had set Reba up a few years back.
Reba silently said "Crap!" because she had worn heels that day, but ran across the street toward her car, which she had parked in the school parking lot to give her clients more room.
Barbara Jean yelled, "Wait!"
Reba had almost made it to the curb when her heel caught in a manhole cover and she tripped and twisted backward.
Down she went, arms flailing wildly to catch her fall. Her butt hit first, then her elbows, and finally her head –kong! A man in a suit who had been getting into his car near hers ran over and got to her before BJ and Terry.
"Are you OK?" he asked. "What's your name?"
"Reba."
"Reba what?"
"I think I need to sleep."
"Oh, no you don't. Does anything hurt?"
He felt her head all over. Large bump forming on the back. Good sign- no internal swelling. Her hair was an amazing impression of an autumn sunset in the desert. He looked at her eyes. No dilation. Wow, blue as the Caribbean.
"Your knee," she said.
"You mean, 'My knee.'"
"No, your knee. It's digging into my chest."
The man moved. "Oops! Sorry!"
BJ and Terry ran up. "I called 911," said BJ. "How is she?"
"Not sure," said the man. "She's getting a nasty bump."
"Elbows," Reba said.
He checked those – nothing broken, just bloodied and raw as hamburger. Elsewhere, her skin was like milk straight from the cow on his great-grandparents' farm.
"Ankle," said Reba.
The man touched it all around. "OK?"
"OK," said Reba.
Then he tried to rotate it.
"AUGH!!" yelled Reba.
"Probably sprained, but probably not broken. X-ray anyway," said the man.
She moved her head from side to side. "I think I'm okay. I'm going to sit up slowly."
Terry said, "I'll go get a Coke. I have a fridge in my car." He ran off.
A siren wailed in the distance. "Boy, they're quick," said BJ.
"Yeah, it's nice to have a fire station two blocks away from the school."
"I'll go direct them," she said and went further down the street to wave her arms.
Reba was sitting up but the man still had his arms around her, supporting her. She shrugged them off.
"I'm fine, really," she said, wiping her forehead. "Geez, it's hot today, don't you think?"
"Hot?" He looked at her. "It's cooler than it's been all summer. Are you sure you don't…"
Reba swayed and he grabbed her as she fell against his chest. She took a deep breath.
"Mmmmm. You smell like freshly sharpened pencils and dry erase markers…"
And then she fainted.
Author note: Much more later. Did you guess which movie? Write it in your review.