Hush

by Jay Lang

  I get to my feet and stand in front of him. I grab his arms. “Denny, stop freaking yourself out. You don’t know what the cops are thinking. Maybe they’ve got someone new.”

  He doesn’t settle at all. He pulls from me and paces around the room, talking fast and getting more amped up. I try to get him to sit down, but he’s not having any of it. He’s in full freak out mode and I have no idea how to get him out of it.

  After an hour of pacing he finally halts. “Dad’s lawyer. I need to talk to him.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. “That’s a good idea, Denny.”

  He whirls and heads for the door. “I’ve got to go. I’m going to take the boat home and be up early to see the lawyer.”

  “It’s late.” I follow him to the door, Stinky trotting behind me. “You shouldn’t cross the strait in your boat when the weather is shit and it’s pitch black out. Why don’t you just go back to the B&B and then leave early in the morning?” I have a flash of déjà vu—I remember all those weeks ago, telling him to get out, feeling relief when the boat drove into the night.

  “Sorry, Jade. I have to.”

  When he grabs the door handle, I have to ask him. “Denny.” He stops. “The will. I was cut out of it, wasn’t I?

  He lowers his head and doesn’t turn around. “Yeah.”

  I let out a breath. “That asshole. Even in death he has to hurt me.”

  “Do you need money?”

  “It was never about the money. I guess people never change.”

  “I did.”

  “Yes, Denny. You did.”

  He turns around and looks me in the eye. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Stay in touch.”

  He turns back to the door, walks off the porch and disappears into the darkness.

  Chapter Eight

  My cell rings, waking me from a deep sleep. I look at the screen but don’t recognize the number. Maybe Annie is calling from someone else’s phone—she left her cell here. Quickly, I press answer and hold it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Hello,” a mature female voice says. “Is this Jade?”

  I roll over, blocking the morning sun from shooting into my eyes. “Yeah, it’s Jade. Who is this?”

  “My name is Janet. I think you may have my dog.”

  “Oh,” I say, looking down at Stinky, who is taking up the bottom half of the bed.

  “I was called by someone who knows me. They said they saw your poster at the marina restaurant last night.”

  “Um, yeah, okay. Yeah, he’s here. Do you want my address so you can come and pick him up?”

  As the words leave my lips, a sense of sadness and despair comes over me.

  “If you need me to.” She pauses. “To be honest, I’m kind of on the fence here.”

  “On the fence?”

  “It’s the fourth time Lacey’s run away.” She named a male dog Lacey? No wonder he was running. “I’ve had to search over hell’s half-acre four times now, and I’m getting exhausted.” She sighs. “Lacey’s my husband’s dog, and he left a few weeks ago. I think that dog will always be running. I’m debating on whether to just drop him off at the SPCA in Nanaimo.”

  “He’s just missing his dad. He’ll settle down, I’m sure.”

  “Maybe.” There’s a placating tone to the word—like she feels she knows better. I just know, in that moment, that the dog isn’t staying with her. Maybe she’ll deal with him for another couple of days, but something in her tone tells me she’ll never be a dog person.

  “I mean,” I say, “he can always stay with me. I don’t mind. I’ve grown kind of attached to him.”

  “Is that right?” There’s relief in her voice. “You’d sure be taking a load off my hands.”

  Taking a load off her hands? He’s not a bag of fucking potatoes, he’s a being. A stinky being, but a being nonetheless. “I’ll keep him. Don’t trouble yourself. He’ll be happy here.”

  She hangs up and I shake my head in disgust. I sit up and scratch Stinky’s ears. His tail smacks against the duvet. “Apparently, you and I are disposable. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t drop you off. Until my Annie comes home, you’re all I’ve got. Plus, she’s going to love you.” As soon as I say the words, I can’t help worrying if she really will come home. Maybe in her vulnerable state of upset, some smooth talker crossed her path and swept her away. Maybe even Raj…whoever the hell that is?

  I flop back on my pillow. The momentary joy of seeing the unknown number has left behind a fresh wave of disappointment. Something else awoke in me, however. A spark of determination.

  I take Stinky out into the cold, misty morning, where he pees strategically on every bush along the property. Once back in the house, I go to the bedroom and retrieve Annie’s cell phone from my bedside table drawer, where I’ve kept it on, charged, and it’s ringer on full volume, just in case.

  I saw that she deleted her contacts the day she left. I hadn’t searched her phone since. Now, I go through it thoroughly, even through the photos and apps. Nothing. It’s wiped clean.

  I tap my thumb on the screen, thinking.

  Recent calls. I hadn’t checked those.

  I look. They’re empty, except for one, made the morning she’d left. She’d made it after deleting everything, then forgotten to finish the job. I tap the number and hold the phone to my ear, my heart thumping hard.

  After three rings, a woman answers. “Annie?”

  My breath hitches in my throat. “Hi,” is all I can manage.

  “I thought you didn’t have your cell?”

  I clear my throat and try again, trying to sound upbeat and un-stalker-ish. “Oh, hey. This is Jade, Annie’s partner. I have her phone. I just wondered if you’ve seen her lately?”

  There’s a long pause at the other end. Then, the woman cautiously tells me that Annie has been staying with her in Vancouver for a while. Apparently, she went shopping in Yaletown and should be back later.

  My hands are now shaking. “Right. I knew she was staying at a friend’s house, but I’d forgotten who. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

  “It’s Dawn.”

  “Thanks, Dawn.”

  “Yeah, no problem.” She says cautiously.

  I need to take advantage of her confusion before her suspicion solidifies. “One more thing, Dawn.”

  “What is it?”

  “The morning Annie left, she put an address, your address, on the nightstand. I think it may have fallen off and I might have vacuumed it up—new dog, lots of hair. I wanted to send Annie some flowers.” I hold my breath and wait.

  “It’s that time of year,” she says. Her voice is warmer. “Shedding time. Huskies are a nightmare.”

  It takes me a moment to understand what she’s talking about. “You’re telling me.”

  “That’s a good idea. Flowers would probably cheer her up.”

  “Here’s hoping.” I swallow. “So, do you think I could snag your address off you for the delivery guy?”

  “Sure thing.” Dawn rattles off the address. It’s an apartment downtown on Thurlow on top of a Chinese restaurant.

  “Thanks, Dawn. Oh, and keep this between us, would you? I want the flowers to be a surprise.”

  I’m smiling wide as I hang up. I can’t believe it worked. Dawn sounded like a bit of an idiot, and thank God for that. Mostly, though, I’m grateful that Dawn didn’t tell me Annie was out with someone. I wonder if I should have mentioned Raj, asked Dawn who he was, but it would be too suspicious.

  Dawn obviously didn’t know Annie well. If she did, she’d know that flowers would do jack shit in helping her mood. I know Annie, and I know that if there’s something rattling in her head, flowers aren’t going to change things. I know I have to see her face-to-face and make sure she’s all right. And maybe, just maybe, I can convince her to come home.

  For the next hour I think, sitting at the kitchen table in front of a cooling cup of tea. Then, when the tea is stone cold, I remember the ring.


  I was waiting for a special moment to ask her. This is not the moment I had in mind, but with everything considered, it’s the moment I need the ring the most.

  I check my bank balance online, then call the jewelry store for the exact amount due for the last payment.

  I’ve got enough. I even have some to spare, enough for ferry costs, both ways, and a hotel room if I need it.

  I pack enough clothes for one day, have a quick shower and take more time sprucing myself up than normal—I even put on a little mascara, making my eyelashes feel awkward and heavy. I load Stinky in the truck and we’re on our way.

  After stopping at the jewelry store in Nanaimo, I run to the flower shop next door and buy a pretty fall bouquet. Waiting at the terminal, I call my boss and ask him if I can have ten days off? I’ve never taken so much time off since I started working there. But this is important. There’s just way too much going on for me to have to work amidst it all. Thankfully, he tells me that I can have the time off, but that’s the last time until after the new year.

  * * *

  The ferry ride is rocky and rough, and Stinky and I stay in the truck. I keep an eye on him in case he suddenly wants to hop into the backseat, where I put the fall bouquet I’d picked up. In my pocket is the ring. I glanced at it only once to make sure it was the right one. Seeing it had made my throat close up, and I quickly stuffed it away so I didn’t start crying in front of the smiling jewelry store worker.

  Halfway through the trip, Stinky is fast asleep on the passenger side and I am starving. I forgot to bring food and drinks, and he didn’t seem to be waking up soon, so I leave him in the truck while I run upstairs and grab us some snacks and water. When I return, Stinky has massacred the bouquet of flowers and there are petals and stems everywhere.

  I glare at him, and he lowers his head, his guilty brown eyes on me. “Thanks, you jerk. Those were supposed to be for Annie, not to mention how much money you just cost me.”

  Hearing my stern, disappointed voice, he lies down and turns his head away. It takes me a good fifteen minutes to clean up the mess, in the process, my anger dissipates. “Alright, pouty. I’m not pissed at you anymore. Quit sulking.”

  He still won’t look at me. I rustle the sealed sandwich paper, and his ears perk up and he whips his head around. “Yeah, I knew it, cupboard love. You would’ve sulked all day if I didn’t have food, wouldn’t you?” I hold out half the sandwich, and it’s gone in half a second. “How is that fair anyway? You screw up, and I’m the one trying to get you out of your shitty mood?”

  He ignores me, his eyes only for my half of the sandwich. I give it to him. All of a sudden, food is the last thing on my mind. I’m too nervous at the thought of seeing Annie.

  I think about the best-case scenario. She falls into my arms, crying, wearing my ring. We return to Gabriola and she’s back to her normal self, smiling and playing with Stinky and making her mobiles. I know this is too much to ask of the universe, so I compromise. She comes back with me but needs time to get back to normal. It’s slow, and I need to drive her to counselling in Nanaimo for a while, but she improves. Eventually the light returns to her eyes. Eventually everything is perfect again. I can handle eventually.

  * * *

  The sun sets as Stinky and I drive over the Lionsgate bridge and into Stanley Park. I haven’t been to downtown Vancouver in a long time. Even though it’s raining, the park is beautiful, lush and green, with huge trees like umbrellas. My parents used to bring Denny and I here when we were young. The Vancouver Aquarium is a pretty spectacular sight for small kids, though both Annie and I were happy when we learned that BC doesn’t allow any more wild aquatic animals to be kept in captivity. Living on Gabriola and seeing whales, porpoises and otters swim free makes me feel sick at the thought of them in a tank.

  The dark clouds overhead reflect on the glass buildings as I head down Georgia Street, making everything monochrome. I honk at a typical Vancouver driver who cuts me off, and I throw him the finger while Stinky barks happily. I take ten minutes trying to find a parking spot close to a small florist on the corner of Burrard and Smythe streets, and I pay double for a bouquet the same size as the one Stinky had massacred.

  The closer I drive to Thurlow, the more anxious I feel. What if she doesn’t want to see me? Maybe she’s finally come to the realization that she can find someone more attractive and fun. I’m sure that wouldn’t be too hard to find. I force these thoughts away—the last thing I want Annie to see in me after so long is negativity and desperation.

  Through the rapidly swaying wipers, I try to read the building numbers. Finally, I catch a glimpse of the Chinese restaurant with its red neon sign and flashing arrow. I park in the alleyway and put my four-ways on, leaving Stinky inside to guard the truck.

  “I won’t be long, buddy. Hang tight, okay? If a parking meter guy comes, eat him.”

  Around the side of the building are stairs leading to the second floor. The dark, dirty carpet smells like a mixture of tobacco and pee. I try not to touch the handrail on my way up. I find it so hard to believe Annie prefers this to our cottage—our clean, pretty cottage near the water.

  Finally, I reach the landing. There are four paint-peeled doors numbered one to four. I stand in front of number one—Dawn’s apartment. Quickly straightening my jean jacket and wiping the rain and sweat off my forehead, I knock twice.

  Footsteps, then squeaking as the knob turns. The door opens to a woman about thirty, wearing a pink housecoat. Her brown hair is in a messy bun on top of her head.

  “Dawn, I presume?” I say, smiling.

  Her eyebrows rise. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not a delivery person?”

  “I thought I’d deliver them in person. Is she here?”

  “She’s lying down. I’ll get her.” Dawn leaves the door open, and I peek into the apartment as she disappears down a hallway. There are two sofas covered in blankets with a coffee table made of cinderblocks and a wood plank in front of them. I don’t mind it as much as the rest of the building.

  Dawn reappears. I straighten up and smile at her. “I told her that someone’s at the door for her,” she tells me. “I didn’t tell her that you called earlier.” She gives me a wink.

  “Thanks.” I hold the flowers behind my back and wait.

  About a minute later, Annie walks out of the back room, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

  I stop breathing. It’s her.

  She’s tired and run down, and she’s wearing a burgundy velour tracksuit, but she’s perfect.

  Dawn is grinning and watching from across the room. Annie approaches the door, still rubbing her eyes. When she sees me, she stops. Her eyes widen in shock.

  “Annie, hi.” I sound strangled, and I try to unstick my throat.

  She opens her beautiful mouth. Then she says, “You’ve got to be kidding me, Jade.”

  I blink at her. The flowers are poking into my back.

  “What the hell are you doing here? How did you know how to find me?”

  Dawn quickly steps out of the room.

  I let out a breath. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “I’m not happy if you’re stalking me. Is that what you’re doing?”

  “Annie, that’s crazy.” A mixture of anger and despair washes over me. “Didn’t you miss me?”

  She crosses her arms and looks at the floor then back up at me. “Things are complicated, Jade. I wanted to call you but, but I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Annie, how can you say that? After everything we’ve been through? I thought you knew me better than that.”

  “It’s because I know you so well that I knew I couldn’t talk to you about it.”

  Her words muddle my head. What the hell is she talking about? “Annie, will you come for a drive with me? I’ll bring you right back after we talk, okay? Then, if you want me to leave, I will. I promise.” As a last-ditch effort, I pull the flowers from behind my back and offer them to her. They seem ridiculous now.
>
  She takes the flowers and puts them on a table, then grabs her coat and we walk out of the building. Thankfully, my truck is still in the alley. As the lights from the neon sign shine on my truck, I see the back of Stinky’s head as he stares out of the front window.

  I walk Annie over to the passenger side and open the door for her before running around to my side. Stinky barks once, then looks at me as if to say, “Who’s this bitch? I hope you don’t think she’s taking my seat?”

  I grab his harness and pull him towards me, giving Annie enough room to slide in. “Jade,” she says, “what did I miss? Whose dog is this?”

  “He’s mine…or…ours. It’s a long story.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “Yeah. This is Stinky.”

  “I hope to hell that he was already named that when you got him. I hope you didn’t give it to him.”

  “Trust me, he earned it, fair and square.”

  She gives me a dirty look, then reaches up to scratch Stinky’s ears. He huffs once, then flops down, his head in her lap. She smiles. She loves animals, always has. There’s been so many times that she makes me stop the truck if she sees an animal looking hurt, cold, or lost. She should’ve been in animal care. She would’ve done well. She still could. Somehow, though, I don’t think this is a time when I should be lecturing her on going to veterinary school.

  I drive down to the passenger ferry just across from Granville Island and turn off the engine. We don’t speak for a few minutes. The only sound is coming from the large drops of rain hitting the truck roof. Stinky stretches across Annie’s legs, snoring softly.

  “Annie,” I say, looking over at her. “I’m sorry that I just showed up, but you haven’t called me and I was worried that—”

  “That I would be with someone else.”

  “No.” I take a breath. “I was worried that you weren’t okay. I had no idea where you went. We’re supposed to be a team, Annie, and you just took off. When I was asleep. Why?”