Piggy twisted a heavy diamond ring on her finger as she waited. One…two…three rings. On the fourth, a voice with a heavy robotic accent answered. “Yello, you have reached the ‘the Frog’ residence. What’s the 411?”
A bit confused, she answered, “Oh…um…yes, may I speak to Kermit, si vous plais?”
“To what does this pertain?” the voice asked.
Piggy blinked. “Oh, well—I guess, I just wanted to tell him that I will be coming into town tomorrow and—”
The voice cut her off. “And to whom am I speaking?”
Piggy drew herself up almost unconsciously. “This is Miss Pigathia calling from Paris, France and I am certain that Kermit—”
“Thank-you, Mr. The Frog is currently at work, but I will totally record your message and relay it to him at his earliest convenience.”
“Wait, I really need to—”
“Thank you for your awesome call. Good-bye.”
Piggy stared down at the cell phone in her hand, resisting the urge to scream. So, Kermit did not have time for her? Her calls were not important enough? “Well, we’ll just see about that,” Piggy growled, visions of an indifferent Kermit lounging in her head. There came a loud cracking sound and Piggy glanced down, surprised. The remains of her Blackberry fell from her clenched fist in a rain of expensive electronic bits. “Oops.”
~~~~
The house was deserted when she arrived at six, but she wasn’t deterred. Kermit usually worked late and she wasn’t really looking forward to him seeing her right after a cross-country flight. What she needed was a facial, a nap, and a complete redo on her make-up—unfortunately she only had a few hours, so it would have to be only two out of the three.
She punched in her security code—she’d bet on, and now confirmed, that the frog never remembered to change it—and easily pig-handled her enormous pile of luggage into the house. It was everything she remembered it being, warm, inviting, decorative, but tasteful. She had put a lot of thought into this house, trying to make it everything Kermit had ever wanted. Despite the difficulty of keeping it clean and (mostly) insect-free, she’d installed a swamp-like natural pond in the back yard. The wide arched doorways and high ceilings were there to give him room to hop if he wanted. Why, she’d even commissioned paintings of all of the muppets and created a ‘Muppet Hall of Fame’ because she thought he’d get a kick out of it.
“And maybe he did—after all, it still looks the same as when I finished it,” she thought, before she finally reached her bedroom.
She wasn’t sure what she’d find when she reached for the doorknob. Would it be locked—a forbidden room too charged with emotion for Kermit to ever approach? Would it be swathed in white sheets, like ghosts haunting his memories? Maybe it would be empty, as if he had moved her out of his life for good. Or would it simply be dusty and ignored, the way she had sometimes felt when Kermit had turned to his film projects to escape his personal life?
But it fulfilled none of her expectations. The room was warm and inviting, the light green silk that adorned the walls was as vibrant as ever. It was clean and ready—as if it had just been waiting for her. Even the bed was turned down, like she had left only this morning.
In fact, it was the bed that decided her. It beckoned to her like an oasis in the desert; she could feel her eyelids getting heavier just looking at it. She quickly wheeled her luggage into the corner and began shucking off her clothes. She glanced down at her expensive French lingerie—worn just in case Kermit had happened to be home—then shrugged. It wouldn’t hurt it to sleep in it and there was no way she was digging into her suitcase just for a nightgown. She snuggled into the feather bed and sighed decadently. One more deep breath and she was out—so tired, she forgot to set her alarm. So tired, she didn’t notice the bed was turned down on the left side, not the right. So tired, she never saw the small red slippers next to the footboard or the crumpled red robe that had slipped off its hook onto the floor.