by Olivia Luck
“You give the best kisses, Rocky, but I need to put you down now.” She sets him on four paws, but the boy can’t get enough of her, nudging her calf with his snout. “I can see why you adopted him. What a sweetheart.” Absentmindedly, she reaches down to ruffle his curly black hair. “It must be hard to leave him.”
“That’s why I need someone I can trust to watch him.” The dog walker I use is perfectly capable of watching Rocky. The guy boards him when I’m on overnight trips and walks him during the week. But if I can make Violet shine as she is now, I won’t pass up the opportunity. “Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat this. The season is intense with lots of travel and when I’m not here, Rocky will need to stay with you. When I’m in town and have games, he needs walks at night. It’s a huge responsibility, though I will pay you. I was thinking–”
“Pay me?” Violet interrupts quizzically.
“Of course,” I reply firmly.
“No, I couldn’t accept any money. This is my trial period for a dog. The season ends in June-ish, right? That’s not too far away. In the end, I can decide if I’m ready.”
“Absolutely not. There’s no way you’re watching Rocky gratis. Not happening, Violet. This is a job, not a favor to me.” I cross my arms over my chest, staring down at her. Meanwhile, Rocky hasn’t given up on begging. He’s sitting on his haunches, wily black tail brushing back and forth on the garage floor while he stares at Violet adoringly. She bends down to scoop him again, nuzzling her cheek into his face.
“That’s where you’re wrong, Cameron. Dog sitting Rocky is a favor to me.” Her voice lowers, and she presses a kiss to the crown of my boy’s head. “I could use the company.” The urge to collect her in my arms and comfort her is so strong that I have to physically take a step backward. Then another. I jam my hand on the doorframe and grip it tightly. No one calls me Cameron, not even my mother and she gave me the name, probably because I hated it for being too formal all of my youth. Hearing Violet say my name though damn near takes my breath away.
“You’re forcing me to be creative, Violet.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend, and her deep blues shoot toward me. Forcing my voice normal, I tilt my head to indicate that we go inside. Then I flick a light on in the entryway. “I can show you around if you’re interested.”
Still holding Rocky, Violet steps past me. The scent of strawberries teases my nostrils in her wake. I suck in a breath and shut the door behind us. The familiar pile of my hockey gear strewn haphazardly in the mudroom chills the lava running through my veins.
“Rocky’s traveling stuff is in here.” I open a cabinet revealing food bowls, a large plastic container for his food, a leash, collar, and toys. “He won’t sleep anywhere except for your bed.”
“That’s fine,” she says instantly. Then she places Rocky on the ground, stepping next to me. Violet’s head comes to just about my shoulder, maybe a little below. She needs to rise to her tiptoes to inspect the contents of the shelf. “Easy enough. I’ll need a schedule for everything. When he eats, how much he eats, when I need to walk him, who his vet is, all the good stuff. Oh, and I mean when you’ll be out of town. Maybe your cell phone, too?” She falls to the balls of her feet and grins up at me. “The Type A personality strikes again. Sorry. You’re in charge in here.”
No, you’ve had me wrapped around your finger for a long time.
“That pretty much covers it. Let me give you the lay of the land here.” I stay close by her side, unwilling to give up my proximity to her as we walk toward the kitchen. “Drink?” I rasp.
“No, I’m good. Thanks.”
I wrench open the fridge and pull out a bottle of water then turn back to her. She looks good in my kitchen. With her back resting against the edge of the oversized island, she watches my dog walk around the tiled floor while I watch her. She put her hair into one of those complicated braid things. I much prefer her dark locks down around her shoulders. I wonder what it would be like to fist those silky strands in my hand and tug her head back. She’s slim and soft and sweet everywhere. Gentle curves make up the line of her chin and the sway of her hips. Her nose is straight and over her heart-shaped lips. God created this woman to be adored.
But not by you.
The plastic cap crackles as I twist open the water. I take a swallow of the cool liquid then continue the tour throughout the lower level of the house.
“You have a lovely home,” Violet says when we finish in the living room. For some reason, her assessment pleases me immensely.
“I did some of the decorating,” I admit wryly.
“It was probably the designer’s idea to put the movie theater room in, right?” she teases.
“Her exact words were, ‘the bigger the TV, the better you’ll be able to watch film.’”
Violet’s laugh sounds like the chiming of bells and it alerts me to the time.
“How about a ride home?” I ask gruffly, not wanting her to leave.
“If you don’t mind, that would be great,” she says almost shyly.
“I don’t make a habit of offering things when I don’t mean it.”
Once again, those dark blues pin me with a curious stare. “No, I don’t imagine you to be insincere in the slightest.”
Enough. The compliments, her intoxicating scent—as much as I want to prolong the time I’m near Violet, it’s time for me to take her home. Sourness fills me at the harsh realization that she’s nowhere near ready for a new man in her life. In no uncertain terms can I have this woman. Period.
It sounds simple enough, but the prospect of letting Violet go scares the hell out of me.
Violet
“The latest dish on the rumor mill is that you’re Cam’s new dog sitter.” Stella sounds amused from where she sits in the driver’s seat.
“Whoever you’re talking to heard right. How could I say no to Rocky? He’s the perfect animal. All black fur and with that speck of a pink tongue hanging out. Such a sweetheart.” I click my seatbelt into place.
“That’s good, V. Getting out there again and . . .”
“Wait. Do you think I’m interested in Cameron? No, no, no. No. That’s not what this is about,” I blurt. Yes, I realize my friend made no insinuation, but I feel the need to correct her anyway.
“That’s not what I meant. Dogs breed happiness, right? Someone said that they’re the best friend you’ll ever have. Second to me, of course.” She flashes a bright smile, effectively drawing me into our usual banter. “Felix is coming with today.”
The turn signal clicks as she drives her old Honda in traffic. Blake tried unsuccessfully to buy her a new car, but Stella refused by saying the car is part of her family. My friend is that sentimental and has Blake whipped enough that he doesn’t fight her.
“Nice. Ben will be excited to see him.”
Almost every Sunday Stella and/or I visit Stella’s cousin Ben at the Hope House. When I first found out Ben lived at the Hope House, I wondered why he wanted to live at the residential facility instead of with his family. Shows how much I know about living with Down Syndrome. Being at the Hope House gives Ben a sense of independence he’d never have while living with his parents or his older sister, Antonia, and her family. Ben works Monday through Friday at a bakery near the Hope House; he has his own room and social life. His family loves him enough to give him the space he needs to thrive. That’s how Max’s family differs from mine. My parents wanted to clip my wings, and the Baccino’s want their children to soar.
Stella asks me to text Felix to let him know we’re almost at his place. A few minutes later, she parks along the curb next to the brownstone walkup where he lives. In a hoodie, dark sunglasses, tennis shoes, and a scowl, my friend looks more surly than usual. The back passenger door groans when he slams it shut.
“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” I ask him.
“More like not enough sleep,” Felix grumbles.
“So many possibilities . . . What kept you up?” Stella winks in my direction then fo
cuses her attention on driving toward the Hope House.
“The hot cop came over.”
“Hot cop!” Stella cries at the same time I yelp, “No!”
“Stop with the judgy judgments. I haven’t gotten laid in forever.”
I whirl around in my seat and grab the stiff cushion to hold myself in place as I turn to stare him down. “The hot cop uses you for your body. Every time you hook up with him, you get upset that he doesn’t spend the night. Sorry, I have to say, he’s just not that into you.”
“Obviously you weren’t there last night,” Felix says with a wicked grin.
“Felix!” I squeak at the same time as Stella.
“How did I become friends with the world’s biggest prudes?” he asks the heavens, glancing upward in mock exasperation. “It’s all about managing expectations. I know well enough that the hot cop is not long-term boyfriend material.”
“By the way, what was with that picture you added to your contact on my phone? Dominic nearly had a heart attack when he saw a naked guy on my cell,” I say.
“Repeat that,” comes from Stella.
“Did you like that one?” Felix can’t contain his laughter, and in turn, it makes me smile.
“It’s a good thing you’re my friend. Otherwise, I would be furious that you made I Don’t F With You as your ringtone and have a picture of you in your underwear pop up when you call me.” I turn my lips down in a fake frown.
“Felix, that’s weird,” Stella reprimands. “What if one of her new co-workers at the Scrapers saw that?” Oh, Stella. Ever the protector. She’s a one in a million friend, sticking by your side until the very last battle, even when it’s just a joke.
“Psh,” Felix disregards her warning in his carefree way. “You laughed, didn’t you?”
With a huff, I flip around to face forward. I dig in my purse and smear on the lip balm I find in its depths. “Maybe.”
“I knew it!” Felix cheers.
Stella parks in the familiar lot. Hope House is a cluster of red brick and limestone buildings, each with different purposes like living, dining, education, etc. We walk straight to the residential hall where Ben lives. He’s sprawled out on a sofa in the common area watching a television with rapt attention.
“Hey, boo,” I say, nudging his bent knee with mine.
“Game’s on,” Ben says, but he reaches up to tug me onto the empty space of sofa next to him.
Laughing, I bump my shoulder against his. “That’s the best hello I can get?”
“Shoot!” Ben scrambles up, shouting at the television. Then, suddenly, goal! The Scrapers are playing the New York team and, according to Ben’s excitement, are winning. Felix and Stella sit on the adjacent sofa. Felix kicks his legs up on the coffee table and stretches his arm around the back of the couch. We watch patiently with Ben until the period is over and we finally have his full attention.
“Guess who Violet is dog sitting for,” Stella says.
“Give me a hint,” Ben requests.
“Outside of me, he’s your favorite person of all time,” Felix teases.
Ben’s face scrunches in thought. “I don’t know,” he finally sighs. “All of my favorite people are in this room.”
“Brown noser,” I joke, then point to the screen. “On Friday, I met Cameron Stone and he needs a new dog sitter for when he’s out of town.”
“Really?” Ben’s eyes light up with excitement. Wisps of his dark hair fall across his forehead as he bounces up in his seat. “That’s so cool. Do you think I can meet his dog?”
I tousle his hair affectionately. “Rocky’s going to be staying with me overnights. You better come and hang out with us. There’s something else cool I want to tell you about.”
“The charity event?”
“The Scrapers loved the idea. All they had to do was run it by the higher ups and since Blake is the higher ups, we are in. Come Monday, we’ll get everything worked out with the director of the Hope House. The only thing left is for you to get a tux.”
“Do I get to bring a date?”
Stella, Felix, and I share bug eyes in surprise. This is the first time any of us have heard Ben mention dating. “You holding out on us, Big B? Sounds like you have a lady friend,” Felix says.
Ben’s cheeks flush adorably. “Not yet,” he relents. “There’s someone here I want to ask. That’s all I’m saying.” He makes a zipper motion with his lips and tosses the key over his shoulder. “Game’s back!” he cries when the announcers appear on the screen.
“Does anyone want lunch? I’m starving,” Felix says.
“I bet you are,” Stella murmurs with a smirk, earning a gentle elbow to the side from Felix. “We can go grab some food and eat during the game,” she says to Ben.
“Yes, please.” He looks at her quickly, showing his gums when he smiles.
“What do you want to eat?” This from the hungry Felix.
“Whatever,” Ben says, transfixed by the television.
Felix and Stella decide to hunt for our lunch while I stay back with Ben. Curled on the opposite end of the couch, I rest my crooked elbow against the arm, drop my chin into my palm, and settle in to watch the Scrapers with Ben.
“If I’m going to throw this charity event and dog sit Rocky, I probably need to figure out this whole hockey thing.”
“Cam Stone is the best goalie in the NHL,” Ben chirps now that I’ve piqued his interest. “He’s had thirty-three shutouts. That’s the fourth most of all goalies in the NHL. He’s only ever played for the Scrapers. They drafted him when he was nineteen years old. But they didn’t even use him until the starting goalie, Marco Simon, got injured. Bet they were kicking themselves. Look at Cam now.” Ben’s speech is full of reverence. I’m surprised to learn Cameron’s that good. Sure, I knew the Scrapers were in the playoffs last year, but they lost in the first round. Or was it the second? I can’t remember.
Just then, a player dashes down the ice. Skating fluidly down the rink, he leaves the rest of the players in his wake. The puck bounces against his stick and then he rears back, slapping the black circle with full force toward Cameron. Instinctively, I wince and my hands fly to my face to cover my eyes.
Ben jumps up, shouting at the TV. “Nice!” Then there’s the sound of a whistle and it sounds like the game stopped. I peer between my fingers at Ben.
“Is he okay?”
All of a sudden Ben’s doubled over, laughter seemingly coming from his gut in large chortling gasps. “You really don’t know much about hockey.”
“I never claimed to.” My hands fall to my sides and I turn my attention back to the game. The words come out more defensive than I mean them to. There’s no way around it; since I lost Max, I’ve become more afraid of the little things in life. Cameron’s become a friend, and I don’t want to see him hurt. Especially after hearing all of his successes, it would be awful if an injury messed up his career.
“That was a slap shot and Cam blocked it. Guy’s hard as stone.” Ben erupts into giggles again. “Get it? His last name is Stone.”
I grab the first throw pillow I can get my hands on and toss it in Ben’s direction. “You’re a dork.”
“You’re a bigger dork.” He tosses the pillow back at my head, and I grab it before it smushes my nose.
When things were the bleakest for me, Ben appeared to save me. I thought my heart was irrevocably damaged. Then Ben showed up at my apartment, all smiles and goofiness and reminded me I could still laugh. I never spent time alone with Max’s cousin until I lost my husband. Then, when I needed someone the most, he wanted my friendship just as badly. Though in different ways, we both are forever bound to Max. Most of the time, we don’t talk about the man we lost. Instead, we help each other remember the beauty in the lives stretching out before us. Ben makes me laugh, really laugh, without clouds lurking over me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ben watching me with a happiness I haven’t observed in a while.
“What’s up?” I ask,
unsure of myself. Small-minded people may think a person with Down Syndrome is somehow less. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Ben’s emotional intelligence is off the charts. He reads me like a book and calls me out on my emotions better than anyone else. That’s why when he’s studying me critically, I know an observation I may not have concluded myself is on the way.
“You’re acting like the old you,” Ben says seriously.
My good mood shatters. The small smile playing at my lips stalls and slips off my cheeks. How can I be teasing and carefree when I’ve lost Max? It’s a betrayal of the only man who cared about me enough to make me his. No one else wanted me until Max and now I’m . . . confused.
That guide to mourning would really come in handy now, I think numbly. Really, I’m making it up as I go. One day I’m drowning in grief, and the next, I’m making a slow climb into peace. None of it seems right. When I’m too sad to get out of bed, I know in my heart of hearts that Max would be angry that I’m succumbing to the darkness. But when I’m out and about, building a life without my Max, I feel like it’s a betrayal to his memory.
Isn’t it?
Cameron
Focus. Never had a problem maintaining it when there’s a goal sharp in my mind. Narrowing my attention to training, hockey, and publicity commitments and investments kept me from getting lost in Violet. Eight days have passed since I saw her last. Now that she’s programmed into my cell, I could have called her after drinks with my teammates in LA. But I didn’t. Instead, I tried to lose myself in a cocktail waitress with big tits. Try being the operative word. As soon as the waitress (another nameless woman in a long line of mistakes) fastened her lips to my neck, all I could see was Violet. I dragged my sorry ass back to my hotel room where I spent the next hour feeling sorry for myself. If it weren’t physically impossible, I would have kicked my own ass. Instead, I threw myself into my game and tried (there’s that word again) to stop thinking about Violet.
Which brings me to today. Rocky’s on his leash at my side, whining and peering through the glass window of the door to Violet’s condo building. I knuckle the buzzer.