“I want to offer you a small job.”
I felt my eyes narrow down. “Doing what?”
“Dog walking.”
“Oh. You want me to walk Rigby?”
“Just for a few weeks. My sciatica is flaring up again. I’ve been seeing the chiropractor, but it takes a while before he can offer much relief. This is the worst it’s ever been. It hurts right down to my heel. Every day I’ve had that dog, I’ve walked her two miles, unless I walked her more. I’ve never missed a day. Not one day. Not a holiday. Not a sick day. And now I’ve missed both yesterday and the day before. It’s not fair to her.”
It sounded like a speech he’d rehearsed a few times. Which, if that was true, made the inside of Paul Inverness more like the inside of me than I could bear to imagine.
“So… every day?”
“Yes. Just for a few weeks.”
“How much?”
“What do you think is a fair price?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know what dog walkers get. Make me an offer.”
“Well. It should take you about half an hour. So how about… ten dollars?”
My eyes opened wider. I could feel it. I tried for more of a poker face. I don’t think it worked.
“Ten dollars.”
“Yes.”
“Per…”
“Day. Per walk.”
That was twenty dollars an hour, basically.
I stuck my hand out, fast. To shake on it. Before he wised up and realized he’d bid too high. His hand felt soft, like it looked. Like he’d never done hard labor. But kind of strong, too. And dry.
“I wouldn’t let just anybody walk my dog,” he said, before he stepped down off the porch. “I probably used to think I would never trust anybody with my dog. But I like your attitude toward her.”
I couldn’t think what to say to that. But it didn’t really matter. Before I could even open my mouth, he was halfway back to his own yard, and too far away to hear.
I found my mom out in the backyard and told her about my new job.
“Oh, honey,” she said. “Oh, my God. That’s fabulous. We need that money so much. Seventy dollars a week! That’s such a big help.”
Then we went silent and looked at each other. And we both let that settle in. I absorbed the fact that she thought that money was for the family, while I watched her adjust to the idea that I’d thought it would be mine.
“Oh, I know, honey. It’s not fair to you, but we need it. I’ll even pay you back. I swear. I’ll keep a record of every cent and pay you back when things are better.”
When things are better. In my family, that was code for never. I didn’t say so out loud.
“You don’t have to pay me back. I’m part of this family.”
But my voice sounded heavy and sick, like I’d just bounced off a very high cliff and landed in a pile of depression. Well… there was no “like” about it. That’s exactly what it was.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
“I don’t get to keep any of it? Even a little?”
“That’s a good point. You should keep a little.”
Then I waited, barely breathing, while she decided my little.
“You keep the money for the first walk every week. How’s that?”
Wow, I thought. That’s a little, all right.
“Fine,” I said. And turned to walk away.
“Angie, don’t leave mad.”
I stopped and turned around. “I’m not mad.”
“You look mad.”
“I’m not mad. I just have to go walk the dog.”
“Come in,” Paul said, and he stepped back from the doorway. “Come right in.”
That was the last thing in the world I expected him to say. I expected him to hand me out the leash with the door half closed so I couldn’t even see inside.
I stepped into his living room. I tried to take in the room without being too obvious about looking around. Rigby sat by my left side, and I stroked the back of her neck, from that big bone of her skull down to her collar.
It definitely looked like a man’s living room. There were no colors. The rug was gray, the huge flat-screen TV was black, the leather couch and recliner were black. It was uncomplicated, just like he said. There was nothing lying around on any surface. No magazines. No mail. No cups or glasses.
A big bookcase covered one whole wall, but it wasn’t even completely full. He used it to display vases and statues and art in frames in lots of places that weren’t filled up with books. There was a picture of a woman on that bookcase. A pretty, dark-haired woman with a long, straight nose. I figured maybe he used to have a wife, but she died. Or left. Or something.
No, died. She must have died. Because when Sophie’s father left, my mother took down all his pictures. But when my dad died, they stayed up.
I’d never lived in a house without clutter. It seemed almost too amazing to be true. First I wondered if he’d scraped it all off into a box, because he knew I was coming. But then I knew it hadn’t happened that way. He lived like this. The house was like its owner. Just what it needed to be and no more.
“This is nice of you,” he said. “Especially since I wasn’t very pleasant the last time we talked.”
“You weren’t very pleasant any of the times we talked.”
He laughed. I was surprised. Even knowing him as much as I did. Which I guess wasn’t much. But still.
“Then it’s even nicer of you.”
“I’m not being nice. We need the money.”
A silence fell, and I didn’t know why.
“We? You don’t get to keep it for yourself?”
“Well, both,” I said. But it was too late. I’d already cut my eyes away from him, so he knew I was ashamed. I’d let something get away, something I’d meant to keep. “I’ll have some for me and give some to help the family.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility for a girl your age.”
“It’s always been like that,” I said.
Which wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t like that when my dad was alive. And before Sophie was born. But I wasn’t going to say anything about that to him. And besides, that was like another life. Like I’d died and been reincarnated as this.
“It’s only for four weeks, you know.”
I laughed a little. “You already know the date your… whatever-you-said-you-had… is going to get better?”
“No. In four weeks, I retire.”
“So? That gives you even more time to walk the dog.”
“No, I’ll be moving,” he said. Almost like I should’ve known. Like he found it curious that it didn’t show or something.
The news felt like a cold knife sticking between my ribs. When I tried to pull in a deep breath, I could feel the point of it, wedged in there.
“Where are you going?” I asked, trying to sound as natural as possible.
“I’m going to go live up in the mountains, in this little town in the Sierra Nevadas. Not too far from Lake Kehoe. My brother has a vacation home up there, and he’s sick of it. I’m trading him this house for it, and then he’s selling his house across town and moving here.”
“Oh,” I said. Still pretty shocked. I hadn’t even realized it completely, but we’d been living in a bubble of relative silence and peace. For us, almost happiness. Not that I hadn’t known it had been silent. That was impossible to miss. I hadn’t known it was a bubble. Now I knew. And now I knew exactly when it would burst. “I love the mountains. That’ll be nice for you.”
“Here, let me show you how to put this on.”
He held up a leather slip collar with a brown leather leash. Rigby stood up and wagged her whole body, smacking me in the butt with her tail. It felt like getting lashed with a bullwhip. Well, like I imagined that would feel. Nobody had ever lashed me with a bullwhip.
“Ow!”
“Oh, and watch out for the tail.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“She’ll
walk on your left. So you slip it on this way.” He showed me the direction. With the heavy ring and the clip of the leash coming over the top of her neck toward me and then down. “That way, gravity will keep it loose and open so long as she keeps the leash slack.”
“She’s a big dog. What do I do if she pulls me?”
“She won’t pull you.”
“Oh.”
I took hold of the leash and took a couple of steps, and the minute I did, she got up from her sit and caught up with me in one step. I stopped, and she sat down by my left heel again.
“See? She knows what to do. You know that little park with the fountain?”
“Sure.”
I walked by it on my way to the library, every time.
“That’s a mile. So just around the fountain and back.”
“Okay.”
Rigby and I headed for the door.
“Your sister’s been quiet,” he said.
I stopped. Rigby sat.
“Yeah. She has.”
“I thought nothing and nobody could make her do that.”
I looked back at him. “Nothing and nobody did. She’s doing it on her own. She used to get really upset when Rigby went inside, but then the dog kept coming back out again. So it’s like Sophie got it that she’ll be back. So now she just sits by the fence and waits and doesn’t say a word. She falls asleep out there, and then we carry her in.”
“She doesn’t go to any kind of school or therapy?”
“Now that’s a long story.”
“Never mind, then. Forget I asked.”
“She did. In the old neighborhood. When we lived downtown. Like a special preschool program. Now we have to decide when to put her in first grade. We have to find a good school and enroll her. I think my mom might wait a year.”
“Got it.”
“She’s not going to be very happy when you move.”
“No,” he said. “I don’t expect she will.”
I could tell by the way he said it that it wasn’t his problem, and he knew it.
It would definitely be mine.
Not twenty steps out the door, I made a huge mistake.
I crossed the street.
It seemed like a simple enough thing to do. But then I heard Sophie yelling from our backyard.
“Hem!” she yelled. “Hem, hem, hem! Heeeeeem!”
I whipped around, and I could see her through the fence. Which was fine. The bad news was, she could see me. And the dog. I kept walking. Quickened my step, in fact.
Three more hems, and then the third one morphed into the siren scream.
I walked back to the fence. What else could I do?
Except now I was totally stuck.
By the time I got there, both my mom and Aunt Vi were out in the yard, bickering.
I heard Aunt Vi say, “I thought she was done with this. You told me she was done with this.”
And my mom said, “She stopped, okay? She stopped. Please. Just go back in the house, Vi. I’ll take care of it.”
I waited by the gate until I heard the kitchen door slam. Then my mom came out to where Sophie and Rigby and I stood on opposite sides of the fence.
She looked scared. It’s always scary when even your mom is scared.
“She saw you.”
“Guess so.”
“Why doesn’t she do that every morning when that man walks him?”
“Her. No idea. I guess maybe they don’t cross the street. I think she only saw us because I crossed the street.”
Again, I caught that panic from her, and it jolted me right down to my gut.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked.
“I don’t know, Mom. I have to take the dog for a walk. It’s my job.”
She sighed. “I guess I’ll just scoop her up, and we’ll go in the closet. And by the time you get back, Vi’ll be at a motel again. But there’s nothing else we can do. Oh, dear God, don’t let this be the day she asks us to leave.”
“No. Open the gate.”
Silence.
“Open the gate?”
“Yeah. Try it. Open the gate.”
“And then what?”
“Then I walk away down the street, and we’ll see what she does.”
“She’ll follow you.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. Right.”
“You sure you can handle her on the street?”
“No. You sure you can handle her here?”
Another long, panicky silence.
“What if she runs out into traffic or something?”
“I’m thinking she’ll stay close to Rigby, but anyway, let’s just try it. You know. In the driveway. Or right in front of the house.”
I swear, I could hear her next breath. She opened the gate.
Sophie trotted around to my left side, beyond where Rigby was sitting politely by my heel. She dropped to her knees, folded her legs under her, and propped up on straight arms. Made herself into the same sort of triangle as the dog.
I took a few steps down the driveway, Rigby heeling. It seemed to surprise Sophie, and she got off to a late start. She had to stumble to her feet and run to catch up. By the time she did, I’d stopped again, and she dropped into the same sit, into the same position, to the left of the dog.
I looked around at my mom.
“We’re going,” I said. “Wish me luck.”
She didn’t. She didn’t say a word. She had this look on her face like she couldn’t have said a word if she tried.
“Mom. Do something. Go inside and tell Aunt Vi everything’s okay.”
She stood frozen for another moment. Then she raised two crossed fingers and hurried away. Like she couldn’t bear to see what came next.
Sophie scuttled along to keep up, looking bizarrely uncoordinated. I guess I wasn’t used to it, because I wasn’t used to seeing her walk any distance in a semi-straight line, with purpose.
I found myself looking at her a lot. Part of the time because I was worried about her, but part of the time because she was fun to look at. She was wearing her pink skirt over thick black tights, and a pink top, and sneakers that were blinding white except for the grass stains on the toes. My mom had put her hair into two big, curly pigtails. Her legs were long and skinny and cute.
Whenever I passed somebody, they’d give me a little nod or not look at me at all. Or sometimes they smiled at me. Then their eyes would go down to Rigby, and usually they’d jump a little. Like she was a grizzly bear or something. Sometimes they smiled at her. But every single person I passed broke into a smile when they looked at Sophie.
I started thinking maybe I should take her every day.
Then I realized this was about five times more exercise than she was used to, and I got worried for the long run. What if she got tired and couldn’t walk home? Could I carry her that far? Would she even let me?
Then again, if she could go the distance… man, would she ever be nice and tired for the rest of the day. Maybe for every day. That could only be good. Right?
If. And if not, I was out there alone.
I tried to pull myself back into the moment. Because the short run was going fine.
I stopped at each corner and waited for the light to turn, or, if it was just a four-way stop, for cars to go through and leave us a big space to cross. Rigby sat and patiently waited. Sophie sat and patiently waited. Then Rigby and I stepped into the street, and Sophie came scrambling after. She never did get the hang of taking off when we did. Just of catching up pretty fast.
Of course, I looked back at her constantly. But she was always doing the same thing. And if there was one thing I could always tell you about my sister… once she fell into a rut of doing the same thing, she just kept doing that same thing.
After a while, my mind even drifted off a bit. Then I’d jerk it back, thinking I’d already caused some kind of major disaster by letting my attention slip. I’d quick look back. And there she’d be, just rambling along, slightly behind us. It was kind
of nice. I mean, not nice as in it wasn’t a total freaking disaster. Nice as in… nicer than it would have been without her along.
All of a sudden, I looked forward again and realized I was almost at Nellie’s Books. It made my heart pound to see it there in the middle of the block, but I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t been back there to look at the book. Not even to give her my phone number. Probably she’d put the book back in stock by now. Maybe she’d even sold it. Thinking that made the bottom of my stomach feel kind of sick and disgusting. But it was probably true. It was probably gone.
I had to decide if I was going to hurry by and hope she wouldn’t notice or if I’d stick my head in and ask if she still had it. I could give her a ten-dollar deposit on the book later in the day. If she still had it.
That decided me.
I stuck my head in the door, my heart pounding so hard, I could hear and feel it in my ears, both. It was making me a little dizzy.
It took her a minute to look up. She was looking down at the counter—probably reading—and chewing on a long twist of black licorice. I stared at the side of her face for a while, and then when she saw I was there, I quick looked away.
“There you are,” she said.
“Yes. Here I am.”
“I thought you might not come back.”
Me, too. I didn’t say so.
“Well. I’ve been busy. You know. Starting in the new school and all. Trying to catch up. Anyway, later today, I’ll have ten dollars, and I’ll come back and put a deposit on that book. If you still have it. Do you still have it?”
Her face just completely fell. That made me feel like crap. For two reasons. Because it meant she’d probably sold it. And because I liked to make her smile. Not… whatever she was doing right then.
“You don’t want to do the inventory, huh? I guess I don’t blame you.”
I checked on Sophie. She was right where she was supposed to be.
“Oh. I didn’t think you really wanted me to.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know. I figured you just felt sorry for me, because I couldn’t afford it.”
“Is there a reason why only your head is inside?”
“Yes, ma’am. Nellie. I have a big dog with me.”
“You see any signs that say No Dogs Allowed?”
Where We Belong Page 6