In the Neighborhood of Normal

by Cindy Maddox

  Mish was a little nervous when she opened the door to the dog shelter. She’d never tried to get a dog before and didn’t know what would be involved. But she had made up her mind. She wanted a friendly little white dog.

  The woman at the desk was feeding a tiny puppy with an eye dropper.

  “He’s so small!” Mish exclaimed. “What happened to his mama?”

  “We don’t know,” the woman answered, barely giving Mish a glance. “Some jerk abandoned the puppies here before we opened this morning.”

  “There’s more of them?”

  “Two brothers and a sister to this little guy. They’ll make it, but if it had been any colder, it might be a different story.” She finally spared a glance at Mish. “So can I help you?”

  “Do you have any dogs?” Mish asked feebly.

  The woman laughed. “Why, yes, we do. What kind were you looking for? Big? Small? Young? Old? For protection or—”

  “For cuddling,” she said, then immediately regretted it. She probably sounded stupid. “Is that a dumb reason to want a dog?”

  The woman stopped and looked up at her. “That’s a perfectly wonderful reason to want a dog,” she said with a smile. “Let’s go take a look.”

  The woman introduced herself as Katie, then led Mish through a steel door, still carrying the tiny puppy. They immediately were greeted by a wall of sound, as every dog in the place began barking and vying for attention. As Mish looked around, it seemed like every one of them was saying, “Pick me! Pick me!” She saw it right away. A little white bundle of fur that was just as excited as it could be—jumping and running in circles and yapping enthusiastically. “Tell me about this one,” she said to Katie.

  “He’s a cutie, isn’t he? Our best guess is he’s part Westie and part Maltese. He’s very food motivated so if you have treats, he’s your best friend. Here, try for yourself,” she said as she handed Mish a tin of tiny dog treats shaped like bones.

  Mish spent a couple of minutes giving the cute little thing some treats, and the woman was right—as long as she was feeding him, she had his full attention. But once she stopped, he quickly lost interest. It made her sad. The dog looked exactly like the dog in her mind—but she didn’t really want a dog who was only interested in what she gave him. “If I wanted that, I’d get a man,” she muttered under her breath.

  She walked on down the row, pausing at each dog’s crate. They were all different sizes and colors and temperaments. One of them leapt so furiously at the gate of his kennel that she backed up in fear. “Oh, don’t let him scare you,” Katie said. “He’s all bark. He wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

  Yeah, I’ve heard that before. She kept walking. She reached the last kennel and at first thought it was empty. But then she realized there was a brown bundle in the corner. It looked up at her with the saddest eyes she’d ever seen. “Tell me about this one,” she asked.

  Katie sighed. “I’m afraid this old gal is not what you’re looking for either.” When Mish didn’t turn away, she continued. “She came in about a month ago. None of us have been able to get her interested in anything. She eats, but she won’t come to us when we call her. She won’t play. She doesn’t interact with the other dogs. And there’s not a thing wrong with her physically.”

  Mish looked at the dog more closely, then raised an eyebrow at Katie.

  “Okay,” Katie conceded, “she’s got some problems. She was covered in sores when she came in. Her hair was so matted she couldn’t even squat to do her business. She definitely got attacked by another dog at some point—you can tell by the shape of her ear. But she’s not sick or seriously injured. It seems to be more emotional than physical. None of us have been able to draw her out. I don’t know if we’ll ever find a home for her.”

  Mish studied the dog. There was something about those eyes that just grabbed at her heart. She wished she could sit down on the floor, but she knew that if she did, she’d never get back up. “Would it be too much trouble to get me a chair?” she asked.

  Apparently not, because Katie was back in less than a minute. It was a short chair, like a kid’s size, but it was better than nothing. She lowered herself with a grunt and then studied the sign on the door of the kennel.

  Gender: Female

  Breed: Pekinese and Shih Tzu mix

  Weight: 8 pounds

  Age: 8-9 years

  Name: Unknown; we call her Sadie

  History: Found on the streets; had been cared for in the past but on her own for a long time

  She looked around to make sure Katie was busy elsewhere, then leaned toward the crate. “Hi.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Mish, and I’ve never had a dog before.” She didn’t know why she was telling the dog this. It just seemed only fair she admit it up front. “I’ve always wanted one but, well, it didn’t work out. So I’m looking for a dog that I can love, and who might love me back. What do you think?”

  The dog stared at her for a minute, then stood, stretched, and walked to the door. Mish stuck her fingers through the holes and the dog immediately licked them. She giggled. She put her other fingers through the door and scratched the top of the dog’s head. “Is it okay if I let her out?” she called to Katie.

  Katie glanced over. “The door probably isn’t even latched. She never leaves unless we make her, so we don’t always bother.”

  Mish gave it a little tug, and sure enough, it was unlocked. As soon as the door was open a few inches, the dog pushed her way through and then put her feet up on Mish’s lap. “You wanna’ come up?” she asked, patting her lap. With one little leap the dog was up in her lap—licking her face and wagging her tail. Suddenly she noticed that Katie was at her side.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Get her to come out to you. Get her to interact. She hasn’t done this for any of us, and I give you two minutes alone with her and she’s all Miss Personality?” She shook her head in disbelief.

  “You were just waiting for the right person, weren’t you Honeybear?” She scratched between the dog’s ears, and the dog responded with what Mish swore was a contented sigh.

  “Honeybear?” Katie repeated.

  “Yep. I think that’s her name. What do you think, Honeybear?” The dog let out a little yip and wagged her tail harder.

  “Well I’ll be damned,” Katie said under her breath. “I think you found yourself a dog.”

  Mish beamed. “Yes I have. Can I take her home today?”

  Katie thought a minute. “Well, technically, you’re supposed to fill out some paperwork, including references, and then we’re supposed to run background checks on you before we let you take her. But she’s been here so long, and you’re so obviously the right fit, that yeah, what the hell, you can take her today.”

  Mish let out a little cheer, and Katie rushed on. “I still need you to fill out an application for our files, and of course there is an adoption fee to cover our costs.”

  “Oh, of course. What’s your fee?” Mish asked as she rubbed noses with the little dog.

  “Our usual fee is a hundred and fifty dollars, but for Sadie I’m sure we can—”

  “Her name isn’t Sadie,” Mish interrupted. “It’s Honeybear.” She was rewarded with another lick on the chin. “And will five hundred cover it?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am, I was going to say you didn’t have to—”

  “Honeybear doesn’t need to hear what you were going to say. If I give you five hundred dollars, then you’ll get more money for her than all the other dogs in here, right?”

  The lady grinned. “That’s right. She’s a high-priced dog.”

  “And worth every penny,” Mish said with a nod.

  Half an hour later, Honeybear was curled up on the passenger seat while Mish drove to the grocery. Mish carried on a full conversation while she was driving, and every time she gla
nced over at the dog, Honeybear was staring at her as if hanging on her every word. Mish parked the car in the shade, put the windows down a few inches, and then turned back to the dog. “It’s not hot, and I’ll only be a few minutes so I think you’re okay here in the car.” The dog’s ears drooped and she reached out a paw and put it on Mish’s leg. “I can’t take you into the grocery store, and I’ll be right back. I promise!” She climbed out of the car, quickly closed the door so the dog couldn’t escape, and then opened the back door to retrieve her reusable grocery bags. But somehow while she had her back turned, Honeybear had jumped into the back seat and was lying on the bags. She tilted her head and wagged her tail hopefully. Mish couldn’t help but laugh. “All right, but you have to hide in the bag and you better be quiet!” The dog’s tail wagged even faster. So Mish pulled the strongest of the bags from underneath the dog, then scooped up Honeybear and put her in it. The dog looked up at her and grinned. Or at least that’s what it looked like to Mish.

  Mish got a cart, put the bag in the front section, and then stuck her nose inside. “You be quiet now, you hear?” She reached in and scratched the top of the dog’s head, then pulled the edges of the bag back together to hide her from sight. The last thing Mish needed today was to be kicked out of the Foodland.

  Mish rushed through the produce section, trying to figure out what kind of fruit to buy. She usually just bought the basics this time of year—bananas, grapes, and apples—but Nicole was such a fancy lady. What kind of fruit would she want to have in the house? Kiwis? Pomegranates? Something Mish never even heard of? She didn’t know what kind of vegetables to get, either. And she used to think picking coffee was easy, but there were so many options in that fancy brand they liked. Life was simpler when your choices were Folgers, Maxwell House, and Sanka.

  The meat counter was easier. She got a pot roast and a pork roast and some chicken breasts, then she went through the store and added a few other basics she knew she was running low on. Juliann had liked the yogurt at the hotel so she got some of that too. She was just about finished when she heard the tone telling her she’d gotten a text. She fished the phone out of her jacket pocket.

  Hi.

  Mish looked at the brief text and frowned. Who texted just to say “hi?” Hi yourself she texted back.

  How r u?

  There was way too much going on in her life to put in a text. And besides, she didn’t even know who this was. Who is this? she asked.

  Don’t you recognize my number?

  She looked at the number again and it didn’t look familiar. Should I?

  I thought our interaction was memorable.

  “Excuse me” a voice said from behind her. Mish turned and realized she was blocking the aisle. She apologized to the other customer and moved her cart.

  You had a lot to say to me the night we met.

  Mish racked her brain, trying to think through everybody she’d met since getting this phone. They met at night—the only person she could remember meeting at night was the young man at the diner. Ethan? How you been?

  She waited about ten seconds before the reply came.

  Great. Can we meet?

  She smiled. She would love to see Ethan again and find out if he had taken her advice and followed the love. Sure. When and where?

  Where are u now?

  Supermarket.

  Which one?

  She wondered why he needed to know, but she told him anyway. She’d gone to the one on the edge of town. She hadn’t felt like running into church folks.

  I’m nearby, can u meet at the park down the street in 15 min? By the fountain in the center.

  Mish wasn’t crazy about the plan. She knew the park—it was the same one where she’d met Juliann that first time. But she just wanted to go home, put her groceries away, get Honeybear settled, and then grab a nap before dinner. There had been so much emotion in the last few days that she was feeling extra tired. But Ethan was a good boy, and she really did want to know if he’d found love yet so she agreed.

  The checkout line was extra long. She had one too many items to use the express lane, and the woman in front of her seemed to be buying for a small country. She kept reaching into the bag to pet the dog, but nobody seemed to notice her. Twenty minutes later, she was at the park, proudly walking Honeybear on her new leash. There was a guy with his back to her and she called out to him.

  “Ethan?” When he turned around, she immediately saw her mistake. He was bigger than the young man she’d met at the diner, and not nearly as friendly-looking. His arms were folded across his broad chest, his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. “Oh, I’m sorry, you’re not Ethan.”

  “And you’re not Marsha,” he replied.

  “Is that who you’re waiting on?”

  “I thought I was, but I guess I was wrong. You are who I texted, right? You were in the grocery store?”

  Mish was confused. “Well, I guess so. But I thought you were somebody else.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “And I thought the girl I met in a bar had given me her real number.”

  “That’s how you got my number? From a girl in a bar?”

  His lip curled. “Obviously she was a lying bitch.”

  Mish was getting really sick of hearing men talk about women like that. “Watch your mouth, son,” she said with a sigh.

  He dropped his hands to his side and took a step closer. “Who do you think you are?” he demanded. “You’re not my boss and you sure as hell ain’t my mama.”

  Not another one. Not another man who thinks he can scare a woman into shutting up. “I’m just giving you a little free advice. Because if that’s how you came across to this Marsha girl, it’s no wonder she gave you the wrong number.”

  In one giant stride he was smack dab in front of her, staring down at her with hatred on his face. “And you are a nosy bitch so just shut the hell up!”

  As she took a couple steps back from him, she heard a low growl come from her dog. “You’re the one who called me out here. I’m sorry this Marsha girl lied to you, but that ain’t my fault.” She was starting to get nervous and looked around to see if anybody was watching. They were alone.

  She didn’t see his arm reach out until it had clasped around her left wrist.

  “Since you’re not Marsha, I guess my problem isn’t with her. It’s with you.”

  As Honeybear’s growl grew louder, Mish tried to size up the situation. Her best bet was to keep the guy talking until he calmed down or somebody else came along. “How could you have a problem with me? We just met.” She tried to smile. “Usually people have to get to know me before they have a problem with me.”

  “But we have met before—at least by text. And you disrespected me.”

  The man’s breath was hot on her face, smelling of smoke and beer. She was having trouble concentrating. “What text—I didn’t—”

  “I sent you a photo and you made fun of me. I won’t allow a nosy old bitch to disrespect me like that.”

  “Your photo? What—?” She suddenly realized what he was saying. “That was you? The dick pic?” Her fear collided with the memory of the altered photo, and the absurdity of the whole situation made her laugh.

  She knew immediately she’d made a mistake, but it was too late. One push. That’s all it took. One push, and her leg crumpled beneath her and she was falling, arms flailing, hands grabbing the air, and then pain, massive pain, as her head hit the ground. And the world went dark.

  16.

  She heard the voices on the shore. People talking. A dog barking. They were calling for her, but they were so far away and she was so warm here under water. Maybe she’d swim a little more, go deeper. The deeper she swam the warmer she got and it would be so easy to keep going down, down, where she knew it would be peaceful. Quiet. But the voices were growing louder, insistent. Why wouldn’t they let h
er be, let her swim? The voices weren’t on shore anymore. They seemed to be right above her, and as the voices grew louder she got colder. She started to shiver. She had to tell them to hush, let her swim, let her sleep. She tried to open her mouth but no sound came out. She tried to open her eyes but they felt so heavy, it was much easier to just float. But she was getting colder every second and there was another noise. So annoying. Stop. Make it stop.

  Then somebody was opening her eyes, one at a time, and the sun was too bright. She tried to swat their hand away but wasn’t sure if it even moved. The voices started coming into focus.

  “Ma’am? Can you hear me?”

  She tried again to speak but was only able to groan.

  “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?”

  “Mish,” she said. Or maybe she just thought it. She tried again. “Mish.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t get that. One more time?”

  This time she was sure she said it, loud and clear.

  “Mish, my name is Amanda. I’m an EMT. I need to ask you a few questions, okay?”

  Mish nodded, then wished she hadn’t. Her head hurt. So bad.

  “Can you tell me what happened? What caused your fall?”

  Her brain was fuzzy. She couldn’t think clear. She knew she didn’t fall but couldn’t remember for sure what happened. When she didn’t answer, the woman said, “Mish, can you tell me how old you are?”

  “Eighty-two.”

  “Excellent. And can you tell me what day it is?”

  Mish tried to figure it out, but it was too much work. She frowned. She knew that wasn’t a good sign.

  “Okay, what about your last name?”

  “Atkinson,” she murmured.

  “Mish Atkinson,” the woman repeated. “Excellent.”

  Was it excellent, Mish wondered. Was it excellent to be Mish Atkinson? Or just to remember she was Mish Atkinson? She wasn’t sure.

  “And can you tell me who the president is?”