But on my way towards the locker room, the scout came out. Tall guy, really tall. Beanstalk of a man, who kind of loomed over me like a beanstalk that was about to fall over from its own weight.
“Cawley,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“You played good out there. You’ve got heart, you’ve got some raw talent.”
“Thanks,” I said. Even while he was talking, I knew I was more excited about getting changed and tracking down Emily than I was in whatever he was going to say.
“But it’s not developed. It’s not trained. Your coach says you’re the best player at the school, and he might be right, but you’re not ready for college ball. Sorry, kid. Maybe next year. Maybe.”
“Cool,” I said. I got past him.
A week earlier, hearing that might have crushed me. I might have found myself drunk somewhere, yelling at the world. But hearing those words from him, well...cool, whatever. I liked playing guitar more than I liked playing shortstop. Emily helped me realize that.
She ran up to me in the parking lot, her hair wooshing past her head, like she didn’t care at all that everyone was staring.
“You did so good!” she said, as she came up and got her arms around me. “It’s like you were the only player on the field. Is that fancy recruiter gonna take you away now?” she teased.
I got her up in my arms and swung her around, and she was laughing and I was smiling.
“Nope. I didn’t get recruited,” I said, after I put her down.
Yeah, everyone was staring. Who cares.
“Wait, what?” Emily frowned and stepped back, searching my face for the disappointment that wasn’t there. “I’m so sorry, Luke.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I feel great. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, and playing ball? That’s only part of it. Only the smallest part of it.” She was already in my arms, but I held her tighter as I said that last bit, to emphasize my point.
“Well, Mr. Cawley,” she said, “You’ll have to let me do something to make you feel better. I’ll take you out for a milkshake.” She winked.
“Alright,” I said.
“And if you’re good boy, maybe you and I can go watch some stars.”
Shit. I was in love already.
CHAPTER SIX
It turns out you can’t just walk into the store, find the cleaning aisle, and have everything all laid out for you with neat little diagrams of what products you need to clean what parts of your house. It turns out you actually have to have some kind of idea what cleaning stuff you need for cleaning each different thing. I was learning that the hard way, standing in the cleaning aisle of Price Chopper. Staring at a thousand bottles in a thousand colors. Spray bottles and tall cans and weird jars and why are there so many types of scouring pads?
I started trying to Google stuff on my phone, but I’ve never really liked trying to figure things out on that tiny screen with that tiny keyboard. And it was a rabbit hole. You can’t just Google “what cleaning supplies do I need.” No, there were even more webpages with different ideas than there were bottles on the shelf in front of me. How do people learn stuff like this?
Emily always handled the real cleaning. Which kind of made me feel like an idiot, in retrospect. A man should know how to be self-sufficient. That’s gotta include cleaning.
I solved the problem the way God intended: I bought pretty much one of everything. Glass cleaner, surface cleaner, countertop cleaner, all-purpose cleaner, biodegradable orange cleaner, disinfectant, dish soap (I’m pretty sure I already had dish soap but hell, who knows), dishwasher detergent, another kind of dishwasher detergent, laundry detergent, scouring pads, steel wool, cleaning wipes, a new mop head for what I hoped was the right kind of mop. Baking soda. Bleach. Anti-mold spray.
I went to the hardware aisle afterwards, kind of to cleanse my soul, and got a big ole jar of that good goop, the kind that cleans grease off everything. After I’d cleaned the house, I’d reward myself by cleaning out the garage. Let myself dick around in there for a couple of days, cleaning and sorting my tools.
I didn’t let myself look too close at the receipt. Since I drank for free at work, and ate half my meals there too, I wasn’t doing too bad on money. But I’d just spent more on cleaning supplies than I had on getting King.
Right, King. I took everything out to the truck, dumped it on the passenger seat, and grabbed the folder of info they’d given me at the rescue place. I couldn’t just feed him venison every day, I was pretty sure about that. I found the kind of food he needed, which Rae had circled on the page. I went back into Price Chopper and bought a 50lb bag of the stuff. Cheaper in bulk like that. Hoped he liked it.
I threw the bag in the bed of the truck just as my phone started to ring in my pocket. Pulled it out, looked at the screen. Mike. Guess it was about time I quit avoiding his calls.
“Hey bro,” I said as I answered.
“Hey man, how you holding up?”
“Been worse,” I said, grateful he wasn’t chewing me out this time.
“Want to get lunch in a few?”
“Some other time,” I said. “I’m going to stay at home today.”
“Luke, listen.” There was a pause, but I already knew what was coming next. “You can’t just shut yourself off from the world, all right? I know you haven’t talked to Dad in months, and Mom’s worried too, says you’re acting funny. You know I’m always here if you need to talk—”
“Yeah, sure,” I said. “I’ll catch up with you later, man.”
The hell I couldn’t shut myself off from the world. I’d get through this on my own.
King must have had only my best interests in mind, because while I was out getting cleaning supplies, he was at home giving me a whole hell of a lot more to clean.
I opened up the door with the 50lb bag of food in the crook of my arm and I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a house as trashed as that. People say something looks like a tornado ran it over, and I used to think that was kind of a dumb comparison, but that’s how my house looked. Like a damn tornado had run it over. A tornado named King.
The jade plant was chewed up all over the floor—luckily it’s not toxic, Emily had checked because she wanted a dog and maybe one day a baby. Dirt from the planter was right back on the floor where I’d swept it up from yesterday. I’d thought they’d have to plant that thing on my grave when they laid me down next to Emily. Turns out what man’s neglect cannot kill, a dog can make short work of with tooth and claw. Two of the couch cushions were shredded and foam dusted the whole floor like snow. My hunting jacket was on the stairs, drooled on and chewed up, and the bags of clothes for Goodwill had found their way all over, well, everything.
My first thought: the letters.
I dropped the food bag from waist-high and it thumped onto the ground as I ran around the corner to the kitchen. I spotted them immediately. The letters were fine. The kitchen table was untouched. Might have been an actual, honest miracle, because my carefully-laid-out altar of letters was the eye of the storm, undisturbed amongst so much chaos.
I let out a long breath and part of a laugh that hitched in my chest.
Emily would have thought this was funny. But she wasn’t here. It was just me, and this dog, and my destroyed house. And that’s how it’d always be. I slid to the floor and put my head in my hands.
I wasn’t mad at King. Couldn’t say why I wasn’t. King definitely expected me to be, because he was kind of cowering in the corner over by the TV. Had been since I first opened the door. I wasn’t mad at the dog, I was just mad because the goddamned rug had been pulled out from under me, again. I thought I was on the right track. I was doing what Emily said, and it’d been working. I had a purpose for once, small and unimportant though my mop-wielding might be. I hadn’t gone out with Maggie. I’d made it through the one-year anniversary of the death of the love of my life. And I was going to make it beyond that. King was supposed to help. It was supposed to work out.
But at t
he end of the day, none of it meant anything. I still had nothing. Nothing but a job I was likely about to lose, a mess of a house to clean up, and a poor dog cowering in the corner of my living room. I finally looked up.
“All right,” I said to King. “Come on. We’re taking you back to the shelter.” I don’t know if it was the defeated tone of my voice or the destruction all around us, but the dog started shaking. I told myself it was okay, that he was probably just anxious. Not scared.
I got the harness, and King walked slowly over to me, his tail between his legs.
“Don’t give me those sad eyes,” I said. “You need a stable home and some TLC and I’m not the one who knows how to give it to you.”
But I wasn’t doing it for his good, I was doing it for mine. I didn’t let myself linger on that. I didn’t let myself think about what might happen if no one took him after me.
The whole ride to the shelter, he had his head out the window of the passenger seat, his tongue and his ears flapping in the wind. He was acting like a good dog, trying to win back my heart. Bastard.
I parked in the lot, went in with King on the leash padding slowly behind me.
Some guy I didn’t know was working the counter. Younger than me, looked bored. Maybe a high school student, doing community service.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Is Rae here?”
“Just a sec,” he said, then ducked in the back. She came out a moment later, looking distracted, but she smiled when she saw me.
“Hey there, Luke,” she said. She remembered me. To be fair, it hadn’t been that long since I’d come in. But still.
“My place is a disaster,” I said. “Like, FEMA is going to stop by this afternoon, I think. I’ll probably get one of those trailers, you know, that you hear about.”
“What?” Rae asked, looking confused. The other guy was laughing, but took the opportunity to walk away.
“King, he trashed the place while I was out at the store. Ate cushions and plants and everything. Well, chewed them up.”
“He’s a dog,” she said, twirling her hair and relaxing as she leaned over the counter. “He’s scared. A new home, a new master. It’s separation anxiety. He’s acting out.”
“Well I can’t handle it,” I said. “It’s not working out.” I couldn’t handle getting a dog. I couldn’t handle getting better. I didn’t even want to get better. Easier to just stay at rock bottom, you can’t fall again when you’re at rock bottom.
“You can do this, Luke.” Rae crossed her arms and grinned, that dimple coming out. “Put stuff up out of his reach. Give him a safe spot to be when you’re gone. Get him a crate.”
“What?” Suddenly, King was my friend again, because he needed defending. “I can’t put him in a cage,” I said, as though I wasn’t just about to bring him back to the shelter.
“Alright,” she said. “Then you’re just going to have to take him out with you for awhile.”
“I can’t take a dog with me everywhere,” I said. “I’ve got things to do. People to see. A job, even.”
“Well, shit,” Rae said. Her cursing caught me off guard.
“Shit?”
“You know you’re the third person to bring King back? Never ‘cause he’s bit no one, just because he got anxious and lonely. Yeah, he’s got abandonment issues, but who doesn’t?”
It was like I hadn’t just rejected King, I’d rejected her too. Thing is, I didn’t want to reject her.
“I don’t know I’ve got room in my life for all of that,” I said. “Maybe he needs someone, but I’m not who he needs.”
When I’d walked in, Rae had looked at me like I was about the best thing in Missouri. But telling her I was going to leave King, it was like the shine faded out of her hair, like the smile fell off her face. I held out King’s leash but she just shook her head and set her jaw.
“I’m not trying to guilt you or nothing, Mr. Cawley.” She’d gone formal. “It’s just that, well, I think you’re selling yourself short. And the thing is, when you sell yourself short, you’re not the only one who that affects. Me, I’ve got to do a lot of paperwork and I’ve got to go home tonight thinking about yet another dog I didn’t help save. This dog ain’t perfect, but none of us are. If it were me, I’d give him another chance. He’s worth it. He just needs someone who understands he’s been through a lot this past year and still needs time to heal.”
“You said you’re not trying to guilt me?” I asked.
Rae sighed and looked King up and down. She didn’t make a move to take the leash from me, even though I was still holding it out. The dog’s tail wagged a few times but then drooped back to the floor, as if he knew we were discussing his fate. He glanced at me but I refused to meet those sad eyes. Rae patted his head gently and gave me another scrutinizing look. “How was he otherwise? He tore up your house, and you can’t have that. But how was he otherwise?”
“He was doing a damn fine impression of an outstanding dog, is what he was doing,” I said. “We watched the game together, he slept on my bed.”
“Is that so?” she said. “Sounds rough.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do it.”
I set the leash on the floor and backed toward the exit. Rae watched me, her expression unreadable. When my hand touched the door handle, King stood up and trotted over to me.
“No, King. You stay,” I said.
But King just sat at my feet and looked up at me expectantly, eyes darting between my face and the door handle.
“Come on, King,” Rae said. “Here.” But the dog didn’t move a muscle.
“You gotta stay here, buddy,” I told him, setting a hand briefly on the top of his head. His tail wagged, and he lifted his nose to sniff at my hand, then nuzzled my palm with a brokenhearted whine. Rae suppressed a grin. “Time to go,” I said, trying to keep my voice firm.
But when I reached for the door handle again and pushed open the door just a crack, King tilted his head back and let loose with a mournful howl, more of a melodic baying than any kind of bark. That baying said one thing: Don’t leave me.
I let the door close and turned back toward the dog.
“Well how ‘bout that,” Rae smiled. “Looks like he’s cast his lot with you.”
He had, hadn’t he? I huffed out a breath.
“Damn.”
I knelt down and stroked the dog’s long, velvety ears while he gazed into my eyes with that soulful stare of his. Rae cleared her throat. She knew she’d won.
“Why don’t you get him some chew toys, and take him out with you as much as you can? I got a feeling this insecurity’s gonna pass. You can’t show someone you’re going to love and care for them by taking them for granted. What do you say?”
“Alright,” I said.
As soon as the word left my mouth, Rae’s face opened up and she was smiling over at me and it was like I was falling in towards her. When she was happy, I got vertigo. All those happy brain chemicals just took over and I was lost in bliss.
“Get out of my rescue, Luke Cawley,” she said.
“Will do,” I replied, scooping up King’s leash and opening the door again. But before we stepped out, Rae’s voice came after me.
“Hey Luke, you want to hook up sometime?” she asked. I turned around, probably looked startled. Sometimes I’m smooth, sometimes I’m not. “I mean, I could help you with King. At the dog park or something. You get a dog tired enough, he won’t rip up the house.”
She smiled. Clearly this was a professional courtesy she was extending, right? But I still couldn’t help feeling like it might do me and King both some good to see Rae again.
“I uh, lost your number,” I said. Sounded a lot nicer than ‘I threw it away while I was cleaning my house.’ I took out my phone. “I’ll just put it into my phone this time. Rae, right? What’s your last name?” I made a new contact.
“Goode,” she said.
I’d remember that. I didn’t have the best memo
ry, but I remember what’s important. I decided I couldn’t let it be a sign, though. It was just a last name. Totally wasn’t a sign. I’m too grown up to believe in things like that.
I tapped in her number, texted her so she had mine, then I reached down, pet King on the head once more, and left the shelter with my dog in tow, feeling pretty good after all was said and done.
That happiness didn’t last too long, though. I was driving down the interstate and King had his head out the window and life was feeling alright, until I thought about those letters waiting on my table, until I thought about Emily. I thought about Emily, and I started feeling guilty about flirting with Rae and sleeping with Maggie. Then I started feeling guilty about how rude I’d been to Maggie.
I had to leave Maggie, I knew that. Maggie was actually fine, she was a great gal. Smarter than me, probably. Cared about dumb stuff, and not really going anywhere good with her life just yet, but she was smart and tough and she’d figure out what was best for her on her own time. And then, knowing Maggie, she’d go get it. The problem wasn’t Maggie herself, it was that she and I shouldn’t be together.
Warren treated her like she was his own daughter. She could do no wrong. And I was treating her like trash, and that was wrong and I knew it. But there wasn’t a relationship in our future; there wasn’t anything more than sex.
Oh, the sex. It was hard, driving down the road, not to think about the sex.
The first time we’d hooked up was the day I’d come in to drop off my application, last fall.
“You tend bar?” she’d asked, looking over the lines I’d filled out.
“I could bounce,” I said.
“Don’t need a bouncer,” she said. “But I think Warren’s looking for a third bartender so he doesn’t have to work much himself.”
“Could do,” I said.
“You’ve done it before?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, “my sister-in-law’s parties.”
“Don’t write that on your application,” she said. “Say you tended bar somewhere out of town. Then read about it online and shadow me for a week or two. Hardest part of this kind of work isn’t the work. It’s the people that come in here every night.”
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