Don't Plan to Stay

by Kaje Harper

  The downstairs john was right by the stairs. When I opened the door, Willow leaped up from her bed of towels, crouched, and peed on the floor. Great. “S’okay, dog,” I told her. “I surprised you.”

  She twitched her tail, ears coming up a bit. I reached for her leash off the counter, moving slow so I didn’t scare her. She’d been a pussycat so far, but pits have strong jaws. I didn’t need a fear-bite. “Here, Willow. Walkies. Let’s go out.” She let me snap the latch onto that new collar with the rabies tag that cost me plenty. Fuck. License. Must get. But unless the sheriff came around checking up on her, I was safe for a while.

  “Outside. Lovely snow. Poop time.” She followed my tug on the leash, still a little low to the ground but wagging harder.

  She froze at the doorway to the kitchen. The smell of coffee was an excellent hit to my nose. The guy sitting at the small table, not so much. But Adam’s dad just raised his mug at me. “Coffee’s made.”

  “Bitch needs to piss,” I said, deliberately crude.

  “When you come in, then.” He didn’t seem bothered. I grabbed my coat off the hooks by the door and led Willow outside.

  The temperature had dropped overnight. Ice coated the snow, treacherous under my worn sneakers. I huddled deeper into my jacket and shoved my hands into my pockets. Willow sniffed around. She was bolder outside, standing tall, even tugging a bit. I let her pull me toward the nursery, since it occurred to me I had nothing to pick up her crap off the snow. I sure as hell wasn’t coming back out for it.

  She wandered in circles, snorting at the smells. The low dawn light laid shadows across the ground. The wind had dropped and nothing moved in that ice world but us. Willow finally took a shit under one of the trees, which I figured was okay. My feet were turning to ice, but it was her shivers that finally made me head back to the house. I’d faced worse things than one old guy. I wasn’t some punk sleeping with his underage son anymore. I coaxed her inside without his peanut butter, either.

  When we reached the kitchen, she ran over to a bowl on the floor, snapping something up.

  “I gave her a little bacon.” Mr. L gestured at the stove. “There’s more for you, if you want. And that coffee.”

  “You don’t need to feed me. You really don’t owe me.”

  He shook his head. “We got off on the wrong foot. It surprised me when you showed up. I admit, I’m worried about Adam because you obviously still mean a lot to him, enough to hurt. You did hurt him, and I don’t mean just the crash. But he’s a grown man now, and I can’t deny he looks happy seeing you.”

  People just didn’t say this shit out loud. “Bacon smells good. Coffee, too.”

  “Help yourself.”

  I unhooked Willow’s leash, filled a mug, made toast, grabbed half the remaining bacon. “Adam’s food is gonna get cold.”

  “He snoozes, he loses. Take it all if you want.”

  “Nah, this is fine.” I sat as far from him as that small table allowed. Drank. Had a bite. “This is good.”

  In the corner, Willow whined like something hurt her. Mr. L eased out of his chair down onto the floor beside her. “What’s up, baby girl?” She looked up at him, and he reached out carefully to pet her chest.

  I sat sipping at the coffee, watching my dog and my boyfriend’s disapproving father bonding. Wait, not boyfriend. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever again. I could still get up, snag my pack, and head out the door. Go to Cali, like I planned.

  Running footsteps overhead turned into Adam leaping down the stairs and appearing in the doorway, hair still mussed. His feet were bare. He grabbed the doorframe to stop his momentum and gave me a smile hot enough to boil water. “Donnie. You’re here.”

  “Me and your dad. Having breakfast. Like sane people.”

  He laughed. “I don’t act sane before eight in the morning.”

  His father looked up from where Willow had consented to lie against his knee. “Do you good to see the sunrise sometimes.”

  Adam turned a softer version of that smile on his dad. “Hey. You tamed the wild pit bull.”

  “Oh, she’s a sweetie. Just scared.” Mr. L petted Willow some more. “So, what’s on your plate this morning.”

  “Christmas trees. The Boy Scouts need a refill.”

  “Boy Scouts?” I was lost.

  Mr. L said, “We cut a deal with our Scout troop a couple years ago. We supply the trees, they run the lot and get a cut of the profits. Win-win, because people like to see their money going to the local kids.”

  “But their lot is small,” Adam said. “Which means getting up at this insane hour to cut more for them.”

  “It’s after seven,” I pointed out. “Dawn has dawned.”

  “I remember when you thought noon was early. But I figured you might give me a hand? Still remember how to run a saw and cut things down?”

  “Some things you never forget.” Our eyes met, and I bet he was also recalling the time we cut the legs out from under the local church’s anti-gay billboard in the middle of the night. His idea, my execution. We’d borrowed a chainsaw from the nursery, and we were fucking lucky not to have gotten caught. The memory still felt damned good, though. A grin spread on Adam’s face.

  His dad looked back and forth between us. “I have a feeling I don’t want to know.”

  “You don’t, Dad. Trust me.” Adam poured himself coffee and dumped the rest of the bacon onto a plate, carrying it to the table.

  “That’s breakfast?” His dad gestured at the counter. “There’s bread and fruit and juice.”

  “I put sugar in my coffee. So I have fat, salt, caffeine, and sugar. All the essential food groups.”

  “Your mother would be turning in her grave.”

  The air went still for a second. Then Willow whined and pushed at Mr. L’s motionless hand with her forehead, asking for more pats. He stared down at her, rubbing over her ears. “Who’s a good girl then? Who’s a pretty girl?”

  I swallowed. “Hey, Mr. L? Could you maybe look after Willow this morning? Scaredy dogs and chain saws don’t mix so good.”

  He glanced up at me. He looked strained but better than a minute ago.

  “I hate to make you,” I added. “Seeing as I don’t think she’s housebroken.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’d be glad to.” He scratched under her chest, and she grunted like a piglet. “She’s no trouble.”

  “Well, it’s a bit early to say that. But thanks. I owe you one.”

  Adam chewed a big mouthful of bacon and tried to get his dad to discuss which stand of spruce they should cut next. But even I could see the guy’s mind wasn’t on the nursery that’d been his pride and joy. I think he picked one at random, because Adam grunted, then went back to eating.

  As we got up to go out, I said, “I bought Willow food and the leash and shit yesterday, but no toys. You might want to find something she can chew on before she picks the chair legs.”

  “Yeah, I might have a look around. Maybe we have some of Ranger’s old stuff put away.” Mr. L asked Willow, “Hey, girl, want to go on a treasure hunt?” She rolled on her side, waving one paw, and he laughed.

  I followed Adam to the mud room at the side door. He dug through the coats and boots and found me some stuff that fit good enough. I wasn’t going to stand on my pride, not after how fucking cold it’d been taking Willow out. As soon as we stepped out and the door shut behind us, Adam wrapped his arms around me. I was startled but hugged him back. “What’s that for?”

  “Letting Dad watch Willow.”

  “Wasn’t letting him. It’s his favor. She’d be underfoot.”

  “Right. And it wasn’t because you saw how he perked up with her. He mentioned Mom, but with Willow, he was laughing two minutes later.”

  “Dogs are good for that.” There’d been a program in the prison, where a dozen guys were picked to raise service dog puppies. I’d been so damned jealous of the guys matched with a pup. Most of us were. Dogs love you. There’s not much fucking love on the inside
. Well, fucking, but not love.

  Adam gave me a tighter squeeze. “He’s been so different since you came. Like he’s back with us.”

  “If he is, he’s gonna tan your ass if we don’t get some trees cut.”

  “I’m a bit big for that now. Although it’d be almost worth it.” Adam let go. “Come on, let’s grab some tools and the truck.”

  An hour later, we had the back of the truck piled with a selection of trees tied up with twine. The air was warming a bit. Between the tying and lifting and hauling around, I’d started to sweat. I dragged my sleeve across my forehead. “You think that’s enough?”

  “For now.” Adam opened the driver’s door, put the saw in behind the seat, and glanced at me with a question in his eyes.

  I didn’t have a license now. “Keep going, padawan. Try not to grind the gears this time.”

  “I didn’t!” His voice actually squeaked, and he flushed.

  Just like old times. I grinned and swung up into the passenger side. “You wish.”

  He glared, got in, and started the engine. And if his reversing and shifting were a touch overdramatic, I didn’t call him on it. He’d been driving this truck for six years now, no doubt. He’s not sixteen anymore.

  As if he heard my thought, he took his hand off the gearshift and set it on my thigh. High up. “I have lots of skills I’d like to demo for you.” Then he had to shift again. The place his hand had been resting burned on my skin.

  I focused on the cold and ice outside and had my balance back by the time we reached the lot. The Boy Scouts had done it up nice. Lots of red bows and wreaths, and a big sign. Scouting was big in our town. Adam had been a Boy Scout, although not after he met me. Coincidence, that. He was getting bored with it. Not my fault. But I bet the troop’s sign helped tree sales.

  When we pulled in, a dad and a couple of pre-teen sons were manning the place. They waved as Adam pulled the truck around back, then came to help us unload.

  “Adam!” One of the boys leaped to wrestle with him as he climbed out of the cab.

  Adam shrugged him off with a laugh and pinned his arm. “Gotta do better than that, squirt.”

  “Are you coming to the dojo tomorrow? It’s been ages.”

  “Not tomorrow.” Adam nudged him with an elbow. “I’ll beat your ass to the mat after New Year’s. I’m kind of busy right now.”

  “Me too.” The kid waved around. “We’re selling lots of trees. It’s super cool. We might get that trip after all.”

  “Since they’re my trees, sell away.” Adam went around to the back, and I followed, letting down the tailgate.

  Adam jumped up in, reaching for the top of the pile. The dad and I both stood ready to ease the trees down. As we caught the first prickly weight between us, the guy glanced at me. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

  “Prob’ly not.” I lowered the tree to the ground. “Where do you want this one?”

  “Spruce are over that side.” He gestured left.

  We got a rhythm going with Adam up top, and the two of us walking the trees where they needed to go. The kids got to fuss with setting them straight, which kept them out from underfoot. It worked fine. I had pine needles down my shirt, and I was sweating again. The smell of the sap was sharp and wintery. But Adam up there, lifting trees down like his shoulder didn’t pain him? That warmed something in me.

  “You’re a hard worker,” the dad said to me when we were finished.

  I grunted in thanks.

  “Really. I’m glad those Lindberg boys have some help. It’s been a hell of a rough year for them.”

  “I guess. I might not stay long.”

  “But through the holidays?”

  “Yeah. That.”

  “It’ll help. Adam used to volunteer with my son’s judo on Sundays, but it’s been a month since he had the time. He’d be a good boss to work for. Fair, you know.”

  Adam slung an arm around me from behind. I jumped and almost threw him off. At the last moment, I figured who it was and my skin stopped twitching. He let go and smacked my arm. “Donnie’s a good friend, not an employee. He’s helping us out.”

  “Even better.” The man stuck out a mittened hand. “I’m Jack Barrington. Any friend of Adam and Nate’s is a friend of mine.”

  I couldn’t not shake, even if I felt like a fake. I kept it fast. “Donnie. Old friend of Adam’s.” But not Nate’s.

  “Good to meet you, Donnie.”

  Something flew through the air and smacked against Adam’s shoulder. I grabbed him, trying to swing him behind me, but he resisted. The splotch of white down his arm registered a second later. Snowball. Idiot. I was so fucking jumpy lately.

  Adam bent, found a patch of snow, and scraped it together. His return throw disintegrated in midair, and the boy crowed with laughter. “Missed me.”

  Quick as I could, I spotted a sun-warmed drift, packed a tight ball, and tossed it. It smacked the kid in the hip.

  For a second, he looked as shocked as I felt.

  What the hell am I doing, throwing something at a little kid? What if his dad presses charges? A clutch of panic rose in my throat. But then both boys laughed and grabbed for more ammunition. The dad backed away, chuckling, as Adam and I got pelted.

  We fought back, but the parking area was short on ammo. Those kids definitely won. Finally Adam raised his hands. “Uncle. Uncle! You are the snow kings!”

  The older kid cheered. A car turned into the lot off the road, and the boys hurried to greet the prospective customer. Adam gave me a wry smile as he began dusting off the crusts of snow down his front. “They’re good kids.”

  “They have good aim.” I took his arm and turned him, so I could slap the snow off his back. And his ass. Maybe I took a bit of extra time for that.

  He was full-on laughing when I let go. “Should I do you?”

  “I never turned my back on the little snots.” I brushed off my front. “And I duck better. I’m okay.”

  He touched my jawline with a snowy mitten. “Better than okay.”

  I jerked away. “Fuck, that’s cold.” Even if it’d actually felt like heat. I got in the cab and waited for him to climb in the other side. “So, when’s the store open? Can we clean up first?”

  “What time is it now?” He worked the keys out of his pocket.

  I pulled out my phone and turned it on. The screen lit up with three missed texts and a missed call. All Leon. I wasn’t going to check them with Adam that close. “Eight fifty-one.”

  “Ack. We’re open at nine today, and it’ll be busy. We’ll have to get cleaned up at the store. Or you could head back to the house? Nate and I can manage.”

  “I’m here to help out.” I waved forward. “Get this thing in gear.”

  “Yessir.” He pulled out of the tree lot and turned left on the road.

  The store was only five, six minutes from the Scouts’ tree stand. Hell, nothing in this town was more than around ten. When we pulled in, three customers’ cars were already waiting. Adam waved and held up two fingers, as we hurried to the side door. I stomped my feet on the mat inside. My boots were a muddy mess. Adam’s were too, but he had a pair of shoes waiting.

  “Maybe I should head back to the house,” I said. “Can’t track this shit around the store.”

  “No, wait.” He grabbed my sleeve. “Get your coat off and wash up. I’ll be right back.” He hurried off down the hallway.

  When did I start doing whatever Adam tells me? But really, I always had. From day one, if Adam wanted it, I tried to make it happen. I walked in my socks down to the bathroom. The orange and pumice soap sat on its regular shelf, and I scrubbed at the pine sap on my wrists. The smell was familiar. A good kind of familiar.

  When I stepped out, Adam was waiting in the hall. He held out a pair of new-looking slippers. “Wear these.”

  “I’ll get them dirty.”

  “Keep ’em. Happy Christmas.”

  “I can’t—”

  “They’re seconds anyway
. Shelf damaged. Take them.”

  I took them and turned them around. “These? Seriously?” They were Rudolph slippers with little antlers and red pompom noses. Except one pompom had been pulled off, leaving that toe with just a white dot.

  “They’re you.” Adam was holding back a grin. “They’ll make you look friendly.”

  “I always look friendly,” I grumbled.

  “Sadly not.” Adam took them from me and knelt. “Come on. One foot up.” His hand on my ankle made me shiver. His head level with my crotch did other things to me.

  “Okay, I’ll put them on. Get the fuck up.” When he did, I kicked into the slippers. At least they were cushioned and warm, after the cold tile. The stupid little antlers bobbed when I took a step. I wanted to wipe the smug look off Adam’s face but was mixed up about how. Kiss him? Smack his ass? I settled for heading into the store.

  The morning was busy, which was a plus, both for business and for keeping me and Nate apart. People were in good spirits, mostly. Christmas was close enough for holiday cheer, but far enough so no one was panicking. I spent my time straightening up after people had gotten a dozen oven mitts off the shelf to pick one, or taken ten ornaments off a tree, then changed their minds. I also kicked in and out of my boots and the damned slippers about twice an hour, carrying bigger stuff to people’s cars. Nate manned the register, and Adam used his thousand watt smile to sell things. It worked.

  I didn’t remember Leon’s messages until I took a bathroom break mid-afternoon. When I checked them, they were all just “call me.”

  There’d been enough of a lull in customers that I felt okay staying in the john to text him back.

  My phone rang a moment later. That wasn’t like Leon. He was a text guy. Must be trouble. I answered it. “Hey, wassup?”

  “Donnie, why’d you have to be out of town right now?”

  “Are you in trouble?”

  “Not yet. But man, it’s my mom.”

  “Isn’t she in L.A.?” I didn’t envy Leon anything much. Being a skinny, nervous kid with a prison record he didn’t deserve was not a life goal. But his family sounded awesome.