39

Alice paces past the breakfront cupboard with the old videotapes, waiting for Ed to get home, impatient. She can’t wait to show Ed the YouTube video of Buddy and her dancing. His meeting seems to be taking a long time, or maybe it’s always this late and she’s never been awake to notice. She knows that sometimes he goes out with one of the other board members for a quick beer. He never used to do that, back when he was working, but now, without an early get-up, he can. He creeps in as if he won’t disturb her if he’s tiptoeing, which, of course, only disturbs her more. He tries so hard not disturb her, awake or asleep.

In the little video, Derek has caught Ed watching her dance with the dog. His expression is so unguarded, so full of the laughter that they never seem to enjoy with each other anymore. This dog has made them both laugh.

Jen has gone home, leaving the squash on Alice’s counter. Buddy, after having escorted Jen to the door like a polite host, curled up on the couch, looking at her with one eye, as if to say, Come sit with me. Alice did and flipped on the television just in time to catch the end of her program. Now the news is on and she watches the murder and mayhem channel with scant attention.

Suddenly, Buddy’s head goes up, moments before Alice hears the garage door rumble open. He jumps down and stretches, bowing deeply, his tail swishing over his back. He goes to the stairs leading to the basement level and sits, waiting for Ed to appear. Alice stands behind him, one hand tucking loose strands of hair up into her knot.

Ed comes up the stairs quietly, head down, shoes off. He looks tired, Alice thinks. It must have been a tough meeting. Buddy runs down the stairs to meet him, and Ed, not seeing her there, bends to accept the dog’s greeting, muttering soft words into Buddy’s ears. The weariness lifts. Is there no greeting more perfect than that of man and dog?

Then he looks up and sees her standing there. “Oh, I didn’t expect you to still be up.” Maybe there is a more perfect greeting—that of man to wife after a hard meeting. Ed swoops the dog into his arms and comes up the short flight of steps, then second-guesses his pleasure in seeing her waiting up for him. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. No. I have something to show you.” Alice feels like a kid, wanting to show a parent a new trick. Look what I can do. Like Stacy learning to ride her bike, or maybe more like when she learned to whistle.

They sit side by side in front of the computer. Alice logs on to her brand-new account and asks for “dancing dog” in the search bar. “Watch this.” They wait while the array of dog-dancing clips load. There’s Buddy, a little triangle placed over his body for her to click on. “Jen’s so smart with these things. But, really, it isn’t hard. Now watch.”

The tiny square opens up to reveal their dog bowing and crawling, leaping and pirouetting. Dancing for all he’s worth, his open mouth so much like he’s smiling, keeping uncanny time to the Beatles’ music.

Ed and Alice sit still. He’s dancing to “Help”; he’s dancing with someone else.

“That’s not Buddy.” Ed pushes away from the computer. “Obviously similar, but not our dog. Where’s the clip with our dog?”

“I’m sorry, I thought it would be the first one.” Alice slides the cursor down the array and finds the one she knows is theirs. “I guess he’s not the only Sheltie who likes to dance.”

“Some coincidence.” Ed has his hand on Buddy’s head, cupping the narrow skull with his whole hand. “Just find the right one. I’m beat.”

This time Alice has the right clip. She plays it twice for them and they both laugh where they should at the sight of Alice and Buddy performing their impromptu pas de deux, but underneath the enjoyment is the thought of another dog, so similar, doing the same thing.

“That’s wonderful. Really neat.” He logs out of the program and shuts down the computer. “Well, time for this one to go out.”

Alone in the third bedroom, still in front of the computer, Alice hears the slider open as they go outside. She worries that Ed won’t have leashed Buddy. She worries that he’ll dash off after some night creature and disappear. In a moment, she hears the slider open, listens to Ed talking to Buddy and the distinct sound of the clip end of the leash banging against the wall as Ed hangs it up. She lets out the breath she’s been holding.