Hope(less)

by Melissa Haag

  * * * *

  The next morning I woke feeling great. Sleeping on a full-size bed definitely beat sleeping on a twin. I didn’t think I would ever be able to go back. The new comforter had done a better job keeping in the heat than my old one. My feet were nice and toasty.

  I stretched my legs from their curled position and hit something warm and solid through the covers. No...he wouldn’t. I sat up and glared at Clay, who was already awake and contentedly stretched out at the end of my bed. His eyes met mine.

  “No,” I whispered. “No dogs allowed on my bed.”

  He snorted out a sigh and laid his head down, closing his eyes.

  “Seriously, Clay. Don’t you think this is just a little inappropriate?”

  He didn’t move.

  “Fine.” I used my feet to try to push him off the bed, but he didn’t budge. Leaning back, I braced my hands on the wall and pushed harder, straining to move his stubborn, irritating fur from my new comforter.

  He still didn’t move but did open one eye to look at me.

  I gave up and glared back. “If you shed all over my comforter, I’m locking my door at night.” I tossed back the covers and got out of bed. “With an eyehook,” I added for good measure.

  He wisely didn’t follow me as I made my way to the bathroom. Rachel already moved around in the kitchen.

  “Are you a coffee drinker?” she called to me.

  With a mouthful of toothpaste, I had to spit before I could answer.

  “No. More of a milk or orange juice person.” I finished up in the bathroom, joined her in the kitchen, and noticed her scrubs.

  “Going to work?” I asked as I sat on a kitchen chair and pulled my feet up from the cool floor.

  “Yep. Sorry to leave you on your own so soon. I’ll be back around five. If you need anything, just call my cell. If I don’t answer, leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.” She filled a travel mug with the coffee she had made and rinsed out the pot. “Oh, when I went to bed, Clay whined at your door, so I let him in. Hope that was okay...”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” What else was I supposed to say without sounding weird or bitchy? Inspiration to pay him back for his sneaky method struck.

  “Have you thought of taking him to a vet?”

  Rachel paused mid-rinse. “I hadn’t, but you’re right. He should probably go if we’re going to have him in the house with us. I’ll call around and make an appointment. I need to check into licensing him, too. Ugh. Shots are probably going to cost a fortune.” She looked at me pleadingly.

  Darn idea to get back at him would cost me money. “Yeah, I’ll go in halves.” I got up and started back toward my room.

  “Great. Talk to you tonight,” she called as she went out the back door.

  Clay still sprawled on my bed. He took up the full width with his back paws folded in toward his stomach so they wouldn’t fall off. I stood in the doorway and studied him while he, in turn, watched me. We were finally alone, and I was determined to set some rules.

  “First, I’d like to clarify that this does not qualify as getting to know each other. Second, you smell like wet dog. If you want to continue to sleep in my room, on my bed, you’ll let Rachel give you a bath when she gets home.” He snorted at that but didn’t get off the bed. “Third, once I’m awake, you get out. I know what you are, and I am not changing in front of you.”

  He outright harrumphed at that one, and I swore I saw a canine smile. But, he did hop down from the bed. He left the room with quiet dignity.

  I closed the door behind him, remade the bed—thankfully, he didn’t appear to shed—and grabbed some clothes. I had two goals for the day. First, I needed to figure out how long it would take me to walk to the campus from here. Then, I needed to learn the bus schedule for the days I ran late or the weather prevented walking. If worst came to worst, I’d buy a beater car to drive.

  Opening the door, I was startled to see Clay sitting there patiently waiting for me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked when he didn’t move. Of course, he didn’t answer.

  I eyed him warily and walked past him. In the kitchen, I grabbed the house key from the counter then moved to the back door. Clay’s nails clicked on the floor as he followed me.

  “I’m going for a walk, and you’re staying here,” I said when he made to follow me outside.

  Clay growled slightly in response.

  His deep growl gave me pause. He sounded scary.

  “Please don’t do that. Unless you really are trying to scare me.”

  His fur continued to bristle, but his growl stopped. Our relationship wouldn’t go anywhere if he thought he could bully and maneuver me to his way of thinking.

  “And don’t crab at me. I’m not the unlicensed dog without a leash. Do you want me to talk Rachel into buying a pink collar for you?”

  He coughed out a strangled bark then turned and walked back to the living room.

  “See you later,” I said, feeling a little smug.

  The walk to campus took about forty minutes. I didn’t mind the time, but the distance and the number of catcalls I’d received made walking impractical and unsafe. After checking the bus schedule and stops, I knew I’d need to buy a car. A necessity that would put a significant dent in my savings.

  On the way home, I stopped at a small grocery store to pick up some essentials. Browsing, I found a new bar of soap, an extra toothbrush, dog food, and groceries for the week.

  Loaded down with the bags, it seemed to take forever to reach the house. When I finally got there, my arms ached. I would need to remember to bring one of my messenger bags if I ever walked there again. It made carrying things so much easier. I made my way to the back of the house and saw Clay sunning on the deck.

  “Nice to know you can let yourself out,” I said as I walked past him. I nudged open the door and kicked it closed behind me. With a sigh, I put the bags on the table and began to unpack.

  After a sharp bark from outside, I grudgingly turned to let Clay in.

  “What? Can’t let yourself back in?” He didn’t respond, except to sit by the sink. I went back to the table and reached into one of the bags.

  “Look what I got you.” I pulled out a small bag of dog food.

  Clay growled again, but it lacked any menace.

  “You want to look like a normal dog don’t you? Well... as normal as a dog your size can look, anyway.” I set the bag on the floor next to the bowl of water Rachel had set out for him and continued to unpack, saving the soap and toothbrush for last.

  “These are for you. You have two choices. You can use them when Rachel’s gone, or you can wait until she’s back, and I’m sure she’d be happy to help you.”

  He studied me for a moment then walked out of the kitchen, turning toward the bathroom. I followed a few steps behind.

  A startled yelp escaped me when I rounded the corner and caught sight of a naked backside. Without much thought, I tossed the soap and toothbrush in and slammed the door shut.

  “You could have waited until I put the stuff in there,” I said through the door as my heart thundered in my ears. I took a steadying breath and heard the water turn on, the clink of his dog tag hitting the sink, then the shower curtain move.

  Who would have thought he would even know how to use a shower? I hadn’t. On the way home, I’d started to think of all the different things I would need to explain, like making sure to position the curtain inside the tub. Standing outside the door, still reeling from the view I’d gotten, I realized I might see the same thing again if I didn’t get him a towel.

  I’d packed two bath towels. Purchased from a discount store, they both sported gaudy floral designs. I grabbed one and waited outside the door again until I heard him splashing in the shower. Then, I knocked.

  “I have a towel for you,” I said through the door. “If you’re still in the shower, I can open the door and toss i
t on the toilet seat. Okay?” I didn’t hear anything. No surprise. “Okay, I’m coming in.” I waited a moment for any indication that I shouldn’t enter.

  When the water continued to run, I cautiously opened the door. As soon as I saw a clear path to the toilet seat, I tossed the towel. Standing just inside the bathroom with my hand wrapped around the door handle for a quick exit, I paused. His new toothbrush rested on the sink.

  “My toothpaste is the one marked with the pink nail polish on the cap. I’ll let you use it as long as you promise not to squeeze the tube from the middle.”

  His answer took the form of an accurately aimed splash of water over the top of the shower curtain. I barely dodged it.

  “You’re cleaning that up.”

  I closed the door, grabbed a book, and went to the couch to wait. I hoped he would use the towel before he turned back into a dog. He’d make a mess if he shook out in there. After a minute, I actually opened the book and started to read.

  Several minutes later, the water turned off. With my attention divided between listening and trying to associate an action to each sound I heard, I couldn’t concentrate on my book. A moment of silence. Then running water. It sounded like the sink. Brushing his teeth? Then silence again. It remained quiet until I heard the doorknob turn. Quickly, I held the book higher to block my view, just in case he chose not to wear his fur...or the towel. A chuffing bark, apparently his dog version of a laugh, had me lowering my comically high book.

  He strolled over by me and hopped up on the couch. Incredibly, his fur looked even fluffier.

  “Don’t get too comfortable, I don’t know Rachel’s rules about pets on the furniture.” I curled my legs under me to give him more room.

  Forgetting myself, I leaned over to smell him.

  “Much better,” I said straightening. At his intense look, I went back to reading my book and pretended I hadn’t just leaned over and smelled a man. We stayed like that, side by side in companionable silence, until lunch when both our stomachs rumbled.

  On the way to the kitchen, I noticed his wet towel on the bathroom floor.

  “Next time, fold it over the edge of the tub,” I said. The bathroom lacked any other available space to hang a towel, and I didn’t want his towel hung in my room, either. That seemed a little too domestic.

  I made us both dry ham sandwiches. Dry because I’d refused to pay four dollars for a miniature jar of mayo.

  “I’m guessing your bowl of dog food will always be full,” I said as I set his plated sandwich on the floor. Sitting at the table, I started to eat my own sandwich. He finished his in two bites.

  “So, we have a week before my classes start up. What’s your plan?”

  He cocked his head at me.

  “Did you want to try to enroll in any classes? Study anything?”

  He lay down on the floor next to his empty plate, eyeing it sadly.

  “Okay...well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

  I washed our dishes and went back to reading. Eventually, he joined me on the couch.

  Later that night, Rachel breezed into the house and tossed her keys and purse on the table. She had a manly spiked collar in her hand along with a leash.

  From my position on the couch, I watched her kneel down next to Clay, who stood near his bowl of water. I wasn’t sure, but she appeared to have interrupted his contemplation of drinking from the bowl. The thought made me smile.

  Trying to ignore the pair, I focused on my book. Shuffling movements sounded from the kitchen. Rachel mumbled something that was too quiet to hear. When the noises didn’t stop, I went to investigate.

  “This is a joke,” she said. She knelt in front of Clay, face to muzzle, trying to get the collar on him.

  I laughed from the doorway as I watched them struggle. She would wrap her arms around his neck to buckle the collar, and he would duck or shift to avoid her but he never got up and walked away. I caught a twinkle of amusement in his canine eyes.

  I knew Rachel wouldn’t give up getting a real collar on him. He needed proof of license. Yet, he appeared very determined to avoid the collar. It served him right. He was the one who chose to be a dog.

  Rachel mumbled again, and I decided to take pity on her. I knew how to reason with him. If Clay ever wanted to leave the house with me, he had to have a collar. I just needed to point that out.

  “Here.” I held out my hand. “I’ll try.”

  “Good luck,” she said with a laugh as she got off her knees and handed me the collar. She took my position in the doorway.

  “It was the biggest collar they had. I don’t even know if it fits, he won’t let me get close enough.”

  With a half-smile on my face, I knelt in front of Clay. I liked that he had a sense of humor when he interacted with Rachel. It made having him in the house tolerable...almost. I looked him in the eye.

  “Clay, if you want to be able to go anywhere with us, you need a collar we can clip a leash on. Not just the twine you have holding your tag around your neck.”

  He didn’t move so I leaned forward and reached for the string that held his current joke of a tag. He held still for me while I removed the twine and replaced it with the real collar.

  “At least it’s not pink,” I said and patted him before I realized what I was doing. I’d forgotten myself again and treated him like a dog.

  I quickly stood and avoided Clay’s direct gaze.

  Rachel laughed. “Hey, I wouldn’t do that to him. No pink for our man. I don’t know why he sat still for you and not me.”

  I’d forgotten about Rachel. She moved to pet and praise him for his good behavior. If I wanted a chance of having a friend as a roommate, I knew I needed to deal with Clay as a pet. But, I needed to watch myself. The direction of my thoughts—his assumed permanent residency in the house—troubled me. Making him comfortable and buying him a license wouldn’t help me get rid of him.

  Rachel gave him a kiss, and he sighed. Maybe, he’d grow tired of her affection and run back to Canada. I held onto that happy thought.

  “He’s moody,” I said, looking into his eyes. Moody and stubborn with a quirky sense of humor. Not a good combination.