25

Alice walks through the kitchen door and Buddy greets her with a little dance of happiness. She barely has time to put down the green sack of groceries as he dashes around her in circles, making a little yipping noise of welcome, demanding her attention. “How’s my boy? Did you miss me? I was gone a whole five hours. Did you think I wouldn’t come back?” Alice says all this in a baby voice, the same voice she used to soothe her baby; the same voice she also used to mock her bad moods when Stacy was half-grown. “Who’s a good boy?”

“Buddy’s a good boy.” Ed appears in the archway between the kitchen and the dining room. He’s got a streak of something on his cheek, something automotive. Every now and again he decides to do his own servicing. “We visited Stan’s today. I left the snow blower.”

Alice shrugs off the light jacket she’s wearing. “Looks like you might have thought about doing it yourself.” She points to a spot on her cheek that corresponds to the streak on Ed’s face.

“Huh? Oh.” Ed wipes the streak with a finger, then wipes his finger against the leg of his old green work pants, which have been softened by years of abuse. “Did I get it?”

Alice wets a paper towel, beckons Ed close, and rubs hard against the smudge. Buddy watches with herd-dog intensity as the two of them face each other. “That’s it. Don’t you dare sit down with those pants on.”

“I won’t.”

“I thought I’d take Buddy for a walk to my mother’s before I start dinner.” After her shift in the library, it took Alice longer in the grocery store than she’d planned and all the time she was waiting in line behind some dimwit who didn’t believe in the grammatically suspect 12 ITEMS OR LESS sign, she worried that Ed would have already taken Buddy out for his late-afternoon walk. She’s never said how much she looks forward to it, as much for the casual saunter down the winding road to the conservation land, the scent of the forest and the quiet solitude after a busy day as for the obvious enjoyment the dog gets from the walk. She wants to be the one to give the dog this pleasure.

“He’d like that. We’ve mostly just done errands. He pooped in the backyard.” Ed unbuckles his belt and lets his filthy pants drop to the kitchen floor. “Not much excitement for him today.” He steps out of the pants, his heel catching the cuff, so that one leg is pulled inside out. He stands there with the tail of his denim shirt keeping him decent, long legs pale against the dark of the shirt. “Unless you count the pooping.”

Alice takes the dirty pants from Ed’s hands, rights the inverted leg. Despite the many years pounding the factory floors, his legs still look pretty good. Ed hasn’t run to fat the way most men of his age have, but then she’s a good cook, not a fancy one. Never got into lavish sauces or fancy desserts. Good nutrition, just like she was taught in home ec. Basic food groups, plus a treat now and then. Alice sniffs when she hears about the public outcry about obesity. Not in her family.

“I thought about taking him for a walk, but I knew that you’d want to do it when you got home.”

Alice is surprised by that, by Ed’s getting it.

Buddy flops down on the floor, his thumping tail the only thing to suggest he’s not resting, but hopeful of some activity. Ed nudges him with his toe. “Hey Buddy, don’t lose heart. Alice will give you what you want.”

The dog jumps to his feet, yips a little.

“Guess I’ll just go take a shower.”

It’s his using the word just that pricks Alice’s conscience, making him sound something like a boy who’s been left out of the game. Ed’s had the dog all day, so why should he feel deprived? Alice wants her solitude, and this walk has become the only way she gets it now that Ed’s been laid off. She wishes he wasn’t so stubborn about finding another job, one that would at least get him out of the house with more purpose than coffee at Lil’s. He is too present.

Ed bends over the dog, ruffling his fur all the way to the base of his tail. The dog swivels his head to look at Ed with those mismatched eyes, tongue lolling in doggy pleasure.

Alice woke up on the dawn of her wedding day and wondered if she’d been flattered into marrying a man she knew was kind, charming, and supremely confident of his decision-making abilities. A trait that, even then, in the full blush of romantic love, Alice knew would evolve into always thinking that he was right.

“Will you leash him for me?”

Buddy knows enough English to react to Alice’s words, and he jumps up and dashes to the back door, ready to perform one of his tricks.

Alice did wake up on her wedding morning excited, nervous, maybe even a little nauseous, but she didn’t wake up doubting her choice. That’s a recent spin; that’s three and a half decades of experience coloring in the outline of that young bride’s expectations.

And in the last decade, Ed has learned the hard way that he isn’t always right.

Ed takes the leash out of the dog’s mouth and clips it to the collar. The fire hydrant–shaped license tinkles against the metal clip, a reassuring doggy sound. Alice wants to get a name tag as well, with their number and address printed on it. It’s a good idea. No sense taking chances.

“Have fun.”

Alice leaves the house quickly, just a little ashamed of herself.

*   *   *

Buddy/Mack stretches out on the sun-warmed deck, a long sigh of released energy shuddering through him. Alice has been grooming him, and his skin feels tingly in a pleasant way. Drifts of loosened hair float on the light breeze, up and away, too late for songbirds to use as nesting material.

Alice has on those clothes again, the ones just like those that Justine wears to dance with him. Buddy/Mack gets up from his idle sunbathing and prances, demonstrating to Alice that he can go with her to the dance place. In his dog’s mind, it isn’t unreasonable that Alice will take him to a place he knows and that Justine will be there waiting for him. He doesn’t know why she’s being so stubborn.

“Oh no, Buddy. You can’t go to yoga. I’m sure that Ed will take you somewhere.” Buddy/Mack understands only that she isn’t taking him with her, not the tongue language. He doesn’t understand the problem. Alice has on dance clothes. He always goes to dance when he sees those tight black pants and white shoes, the car keys, the water bottle almost like the one Justine shares with him. He can overlook one time when she might not take him, but not again. He stands on the alert, his blue eye and his brown eye fixed on Alice’s face, waiting.

Then Alice makes a gesture. Even a dog knows that she doesn’t mean to get him to react to it, but he does, happy to show off his talent. Alice flips her right hand, palm up, and Buddy/Mack rises to his back legs and spins. He can tell by her expression that she is surprised. Humans reveal so much with their mouths. Buddy/Mack watches to see if she’ll try any other familiar gesture, and he isn’t disappointed. A quick hand to her brow, and Buddy/Mack, still on his back legs, maneuvers himself behind her, the back of his skull fitting neatly against her backside. She moves forward and he moves with her. She moves to the side and he keeps with her. He waits for another signal, then decides on his own that back-to-back is over and, still balanced on his hind legs, chooses to hip-hop back in front of Alice. She reaches for his front paws and he extends them to her. His muzzle is split in a wide grin. She’s dancing with him.

Now can we go?