Echoes of You

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “Good, because everyone else you’ve ever met hasn’t lasted.”

  “How do you know?” he asks, defensively.

  “Because you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now.”

  Dylan says nothing, instead he stares at me. Looking hard into my eyes. I keep his gaze, refusing to back away. It takes him to the count of fourteen before he says, “You’re remarkable.”

  “Yes, I am,” I agree.

  He gives me another smile. This one tells me something else. It tells me the whole age gap thing isn’t going to be a problem for him for long. Hopefully.

  “I know you turned eighteen. And I know you said you were adopted. What else can you tell me?”

  I half shrug. “What do you want to know?”

  “When were you adopted?”

  “I was seven when I came to live with Thomas and Paris, but I call them Mom and Dad. They’re the only real parents I’ve ever known. What about you? You introduced me to your father. Where’s your mom?”

  “She’s somewhere, with someone and her new family. By “new,” I mean I think I have two half-brothers. But I have no idea. She couldn’t handle being a mom, so she left.”

  “And started a new family?” Dylan nods. “Ouch, that’s got to hurt.”

  “It did when she left. But after a lot of therapy, and Dad stepping up and being not only my Dad but my Mom, too. I think I turned out okay.”

  “Jury’s still out,” I say in a small voice. Dylan chuckles. “And you decided to be a security analyst? How did that happen?”

  “I fell into the job. And thankfully, I love doing it. What do you want to do when you graduate? What college are you wanting to get into?”

  “I’m not going to college, yet.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m taking a gap year.”

  “What are you going to do? Travel? See the world?”

  “I don’t do well if I’m out of my comfort zone, so no travel for me. I’m going to work. I teach yoga one day a week at one of the gyms’ to kids under sixteen.”

  “You like yoga? That’s cool.”

  “Yeah, I find it keeps me grounded.”

  “Do you like movies?”

  “I prefer music to movies. I fall asleep watching them. I also have two dogs. Zhen, he’s my Labrador. And as of very recent, I have another dog, Zorro.”

  “Zhen and Zorro. What type of dog is Zorro?”

  “The vet said he’s a Boxer cross with who knows what.”

  “What about where you got him from? They couldn’t tell you what breed he is?”

  “Yeah, that’s a story in itself.”

  “Hi, welcome to Cracker Barrel. Are you ready to order?” the waitress asks.

  “I’ll have the Barrel Cheeseburger, and a side order of fries, please.” I hand her the menu once I’ve ordered.

  “And I’ll have the grilled sirloin steak with house salad and fries. I’ll have my steak well-done, please.”

  The waitress takes the menus and leaves.

  “You were telling me about Zorro.”

  I recap what happened at the dog park. I watch as Dylan’s jaw tightens, and his brows furrow together. When I finish, he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Ha,” he huffs. “Am I okay?” He shakes his head. “No, not at all.”

  “I know, it makes me sick to the stomach to witness animal abuse.”

  “Molly, can I be honest about something?”

  I blink twice before I talk. “The only thing I want is honesty. Please spare me any bullshit.”

  He lets out a humorless chuckle. “The animal cruelty is sickening, but the fact you were in danger, that makes my blood boil. No woman—no, I’ll correct that ‒ no person should ever be made to feel unsafe. There’s no need for violence.”

  “I had Zhen. There was no way Zhen would’ve allowed him to put his hands on me.”

  “I’m grateful you have a dog that’s so protective of you, but it still makes me very angry.”

  “At me?” I’m confused.

  “Not at you. At the monster who punched a defenseless dog, and threatened you.”

  “It’s in police hands now.”

  “I’d still like to know who he is,” he says under his breath.

  I shake my head. “You don’t solve violence with violence.”

  He looks amused. “You’re wise beyond your years.” He huffs.

  I sigh heavily. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something. This whole age thing is getting old. If you keep referring back to my age when you think I’ve said something insightful, I can’t see us going any further than tonight. You keep bringing my age up, and eventually it’s going to cause a rift. So either stop, or thank you for tonight, please don’t contact me again.” I’m sick and tired of him having an issue with my age.

  He sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms in front of his chest. I can spot a defensive maneuver anywhere. “Okay.” He nods his head. “I don’t want whatever we have to start off on the wrong foot. I’ll be more conscious of what I say.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to say this, and I hope it doesn’t offend you. But you are so unique. You have a fire inside you that I don’t think I’ve ever seen in anyone else. And I like it. I like it a lot. You’re quiet and humble. But there’s an inferno burning hot beneath the surface that everyone sees.”

  I cock an eyebrow, surprised. Licking my lips, I try to distract myself from the beautiful, perceptive man sitting opposite me. His words resonate deeply within me. I’m not sure why, though.

  “I’m just trying to be the best version of myself. I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Molly, I like how you keep me on my toes. You aren’t afraid to call me on my crap. The women I’ve dated before, they laugh in all the right places, but they don’t have substance.”

  “You’re the one picking them, not me.”

  He laughs again. “Ouch. You’re not afraid to tell me what you’re thinking either. I like that.”

  “I’ll be honest with you, Dylan, as long as you’re honest with me.”

  “Always.”

  “Good, then tell me about Dylan. Has he ever been married?”

  “God, no. I’m not keen on marriage. Nor kids. Kids don’t do it for me. What about you?”

  “Well, considering I live at home with my parents, I think they’d kick my butt if I told them I want to get married. But marriage isn’t something I can see me doing. Not yet. I’m too young, unlike you who’s an old man.”

  “Hey, who’s playing the age card now?”

  “That would be me. Obviously.”

  Dylan laughs.

  “Here are your meals,” the same waitress returns and places two incredibly large, full white plates in front of us.

  “Yum,” I say looking at my mouthwatering burger. “Just an FYI, I love my food. And I will eat it with gusto. If I make a mess, I don’t care.”

  “I think this is real love. A woman who loves her food.”

  “Not only do I love food, I’m not going to share. However, at any point if I want to have some of yours, it’s written in the rule book that you have to share.”

  “Is it?” he asks as he nibbles on a fry.

  “It’s state law. Hell, I’m pretty sure it’s federal law too.” I lean over and steal a fry from his plate, chewing on it happily. “Now if you tried that, I’m fairly sure there’d be secret-food riot police waiting to drop from the ceiling to arrest you. You can try it, but I don’t like your chances.”

  Dylan looks up, and I sit watching, smugly. “I think I’m going to have to follow the rule book. I wouldn’t want to be arrested by the secret-food riot squad. Man, how would I explain that to my Dad?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “That’s what you have to ask yourself. Is it worth the criminal record? I think not.”

  Dylan cuts into his steak, leans over and places it on my plate. He’s given me a piece before he’s even tasted it. �
��It’s the law.”

  A huge cheesy grin tugs on my lips. “You know. You may have my approval, but I’m not the one you have to worry about.”

  “Your sister?” he asks

  “Tina? She’ll be happy as long as I’m happy.”

  “Your father?”

  “Dad’s the same.”

  “Your mother? Mom’s usually like me.”

  “Oh no. Mom’s easy going. You have to worry about Zhen. If Zhen doesn’t like you, then I’m sorry, but this is where the train stops.”

  I know he’s a good guy. I can feel it deep in my stomach. There’s something soothing about Dylan. He looks up from cutting his steak. “If your dog doesn’t like me, then we’re not going out again?” he asks with a blank expression.

  “Zhen is protective of me. He might sense something in you that I can’t.”

  He cuts into his steak and eats it, then takes another bite. “What treats does Zhen like? I want him to let me stick around.”

  I let out a laugh a little too loud. “Zhen can’t be bribed with treats. If you like though, the next time I take the boys to the dog park, I can let you know and you can meet us?”

  My heart beats way too fast. I want him to say yes, but who knows if he will.

  “I’d like that. You know, I’m not working tomorrow, and I happen to be in town near the dog park.”

  “What time are you heading wherever you’re going?” I ask as I take a huge bite of my burger. I feel the juice squirt out the side of my mouth and cling to my chin.

  “Whatever time you’ll be there.”

  I chew my food, quickly swallow, and wipe my chin. “Do you live with your dad?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “No, I have my own apartment. Dad lives six streets away from me.”

  “That’s nice. You stuck close to where he lives.”

  “Actually, he bought there after I moved into my apartment. He’s following me.”

  “Awe, that’s cute. Are you close?”

  “Yeah, really close. It’s just been me and dad, I relied on him a lot growing up. I still do.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah, you know, he’s always there. If I need something, he’s there.” I take another giant bite of my burger. “You’re loving your food.”

  “I warned you.”

  “A woman with a hearty appetite is refreshing to see. That’s it, Molly, I’m taking you to a Japanese steakhouse.”

  “What now? What’s a Japanese steakhouse?”

  “Hibachi?” he asks as if I should know what he’s talking about.

  “No idea.”

  “We’re so going. Are you allergic to anything?”

  “Not to my knowledge. I’m not a huge meat fan, but I love my burgers.”

  “I can see.” He makes a gesture, wiping at his cheek. “You’ve got sauce everywhere.”

  I flick my hand dismissively at him. “It’s only sauce.”

  “You eat with gusto.” I shrug, I suppose I do. “Tell me about yoga. What made you get into yoga?”

  “I like meditation. And I found yoga and meditation work well together. It relaxes me and keeps me grounded. Have you tried it?”

  “Uh, no. Yoga isn’t for me.”

  I roll my eyes. Here we go, another ‘it’s not a man’s thing.’ “Why not?”

  “I’m not flexible. I think it could, um.” He runs his hand through his short hair and looks around to make sure no one’s listening. “I think it could hurt me in the groin area.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Maybe you can teach me.”

  “Are you just saying this so you can score extra brownie points with me?”

  “Is it working?” he asks, enthusiastically.

  “Hmm.” I take my napkin, and wipe my face. “I’ll let Zhen decide if I should be impressed with you.”

  He holds his hand out to shake mine. Hesitantly I extend my hand and shake his. “Deal. We’ll let Zhen decide. Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” I say.

  I like Dylan. I’ve got a good vibe about him. He doesn’t make me uneasy. I feel safe with him near.

  Hopefully Zhen and Zorro will like him, too.

  The dogs and I get to the dog park, and I see Dylan standing in front of the entrance. I can’t help but smile.

  He came. Yay!

  I park my car, and open the back door. Both Zhen and Zorro are eager to jump out. I take their leads, and let them out of the car.

  Walking up to the entrance, Dylan sees me. A huge smile lights up his face.

  He’s really, really handsome. A baseball cap covers his dirty blond hair. While a pair of sleek sunglasses shield his brown eyes.

  “Hey,” I say when I approach.

  “Hi.” He leans down and gives me a brief kiss on the cheek. He pulls away quickly, not making this awkward. Though it’s just a peck, something happens to me. My skin tingles, and I feel nervous butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Here are the infamous Zhen and Zorro. Let me guess.” He points to my Labrador. “Zhen, for sure. Which means you must be Zorro.” He doesn’t hesitate, he gives both dogs a scratch on their back.

  “Yeah. Should we go in? I brought two balls. Thought maybe you’d like to throw one.”

  “Sure.” He opens the gate, and waits until we’re in, before closing. He walks beside me with his hands in his pockets. “Um, are you okay?” He must be sensing this weird feeling.

  “Yeah, I am. I wasn’t sure if you’d show up.” It’s a partial truth. I wasn’t, but that peck on the cheek is kind of making feel jittery and excited. Ugh, these are unknown feelings. I shake my head, trying to push that feeling away. There’s no logical reason why I’d be feeling like this.

  We sit on one of the bench seats, and I let the dogs off their leads. They both run together. “Why wouldn’t I show up? I like you.”

  “Have you got pets?” I ask.

  “God, no. I had a fish once, when I was about twelve.”

  “Yeah? What was the fish’s name?”

  Dylan casually slings his elbow up on the back part of the bench seat. He starts laughing. “You’re gonna think it’s stupid. And it was.”

  “The fish or the fish’s name?”

  “The name.”

  “Okay, let’s start with an easier question. What kind of fish was it?”

  “It was a goldfish.” He turns his head, and laughs again. “And his name was Sushi.” He tries to contain his laughter, but his broad shoulders are shaking. “Man, I’m going to Hell for that one, aren’t I?”

  “Sushi?” I ask, and laugh too. “As long as you didn’t eat him, then I don’t think Hell is the place for you.”

  “I didn’t eat him. But I did kill him.”

  “What?” The smile on my face fades fast. “How?”

  “I gave him an entire container of fish food.”

  I clasp my hand to my mouth. “Why?”

  “’Cause I was a dumb kid.”

  “Please tell me you’ve never had another animal?”

  Dylan’s expression says it all. He screws his nose up, then quickly nods. “Yeah, I did.”

  “Oh no. What did you have?”

  “I had a bird. He was nice. He’d sing all the time. And when we didn’t want him to sing, we’d put a sheet over his cage, and he’d go to sleep.”

  “He sounds nice.”

  Dylan screws his nose up again. “Yeah he was. A really nice bird, actually. He was pretty. Blue and white.”

  “Should I ask his name?”

  “Oh man.” Dylan cringes as he looks away. “Roadkill.”

  “No! You’re nasty with names. Tell me you didn’t overfeed him too?”

  “No, no. Something far more sinister.”

  “Oh god. Do I want to know?”

  “I don’t have to tell you.”

  “You can’t say that. Now I want to know. Just rip the Band-Aid off and tell me.”

  “I cleaned his cage, and I hadn’t clicked in the top wire part properly. Roadkill
stuck his head under to try and get out, but he got stuck, and snapped his own neck.”

  “Dylan. You suck at looking after animals!” I’m completely shocked at how bad he is with animals.

  “I know. To this very day, I still feel bad. But I promise you, I’ll do better with your dogs.”

  “Nope. You’re never looking after my boys. Not knowing you have the touch of death.” Zhen runs back to me, and wags his tail. I give Dylan a sideways glance. I can see he wants to put his hand down for Zhen to sniff him. This must be a big deal for him, because he knows how important Zhen and Zorro are to me. “I’m trusting you. Dylan. Put your hand down slowly, and let Zhen come to you. If he likes you, he’ll smell you, rub himself on your leg, maybe lick your hand. If he doesn’t, he’ll just smell you and walk away. But he’s really protective of me, so if he thinks you’re trying to hurt me, he won’t back down.”

  “I’d never hurt you, Molly,” Dylan says even before I have a chance of finishing my sentence.

  “Zhen, this is Dylan. Dylan, this is my best dog, Zhen.” Zhen wags his tail. Dylan slowly drops his hand down, waiting for Zhen’s reaction. I keep scratching Zhen’s back, and when Zhen takes a step toward Dylan, I stop.

  Zhen takes a good minute to smell Dylan, maybe even longer. He gives Dylan’s knuckles a small lick, then goes back to sniffing him. I raise my gaze to look at Dylan. He’s watching Zhen as Zhen inspects him. Zhen finally gives his hand another lick, then rubs his torso up against Dylan’s leg before returning to me.

  “He likes me!” Dylan says too loudly and excitedly.

  “He does.” I say while Zorro runs toward us. He’s only been with us for a few days, but he’s like a different dog, a carefree and happy dog. He runs straight over to us, lifts his leg and pees on the bench leg closest to Dylan. Some of his pee splashes on Dylan’s shoes. “Of course.” Dylan lets his head fall back.

  The laughter inside bursts through. “They do say if a dog pees on you, they really like you,” I say.

  “Do they?” Dylan asks.

  “No idea, I just made that up to make you feel better.”

  “I didn’t like these shoes anyway.” He shrugs.

  Dylan’s being too much of a gentleman to admit that his shoes look relatively new. “I have a question for you, and feel free to say no.”

  “You’re already giving me an option to back out. What if I don’t want to back out?”