Hi's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Every Thursday at noon, Hi carried a warm box to the same door, and every Thursday he lost his nerve. He was a small fox with copper scales down his back, and he had rehearsed a hundred greetings on the walk over. None survived the moment she opened the door. She took the box, smiled, said thank you, and shut it. Ten seconds, start to finish. He wanted more than ten seconds. He wanted her to know him. Today the sky went dark before he reached the house. Rain hit the path in fat drops. Hi ducked under the eave and knocked, box tucked against his chest. The door opened. There she stood, one hand resting on the round curve of her belly, brown hair loose around a freckled face. He held out the box. She reached for it, already stepping back. "It's really coming down," Hi said. She paused. Behind her, a small child in a pink polka-dot romper toddled into view and grabbed the doorframe. The little girl stared up at Hi with huge brown eyes. "Lily Rose, back inside," the woman said, but she was laughing now, not closing the door. Hi's heart thumped. The rain had bought him seconds. He needed to buy more. He shrugged off the umbrella hooked over his arm. It was his own, plain and gray, but dry. "You shouldn't walk out in this without one," he said. "Take mine. I've got the eave." She blinked at the umbrella. "You'll get soaked going back." "I run fast." Lily Rose reached for the umbrella and squealed. The woman crouched, balancing the child on her hip, and looked at Hi properly for the first time. Really looked. "You come every week," she said. "I never even asked your name." "Hi." "Hi." She smiled wider. "I'm glad you knocked in the rain, Hi." They stood there while the storm ran off the roof. She told him Lily Rose refused to nap. He told her the box was still warm from the oven. Two minutes. Three. The longest three minutes of his life, and the best. Then a car turned into the drive. Headlights swept the wet path. The woman straightened, and her smile changed. A man climbed out, shielding his head with a folded newspaper, calling her name across the yard. "That's my husband," she said. She took the umbrella and the box together. "Thank you, Hi. Really." The door closed. Hi stood under the eave, rain drumming inches from his nose. He had finally spoken to her. She knew his name now. And she was married.