Isaac and I had a full morning. A man came in with an armload of his father’s suits to be tailored for himself. He kept his head down, weepy, as he explained that his father had recently passed away.
Isaac asked me to do the fitting. “It’s hard for men to cry in front of other men,” he whispered. I kept my voice sweet and my words sparse, handing our customer tissues before he had to ask. Isaac took the first suit as soon as I finished marking it, and got to work immediately, so the suit was done before I even finished fitting the rest.
“I thought it would be too sad,” Isaac said after the man left, “to walk in with his father’s clothes and walk out with nothing.”
Nan was right. It was good to be around Isaac’s kindness. Eric always complained that I was too thin-skinned, but Isaac made me feel like sensitivity could be a strength.
* * *
When I checked my phone at noon, I had three texts from Mo.
Help me with Morty tonight?
The manatee. I call him Morty.
I’ll feed you.
I called Nan while I walked to the deli to grab sandwiches for me and Isaac.
“I’m working at Mo’s tonight. I’ll have dinner there.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Nan said, trying her best to sound breezy.
“Say it.”
“What?” she asked with fake innocence.
“Say it.”
“See, was that so hard?” she said in a whoosh of air and words.
“Unbearably exhausting.”
Nan laughed.
“If only I could . . . Find. The. Strength. To go on. Maybe you should bring me dinner.”
“Goodness, you’re just like your father!” Nan said, her laugh winding to a beautiful sigh.
Part of me hated that my father was on my mind when he hadn’t been, but I loved that she thought I was like him. From her it was a compliment.
“Tell Maureen I want to come see the manatee one of these days.”
“Stop by tonight,” I said.
“Not tonight. I have to go out.”
“So you weren’t going to make dinner anyway?”
Nan laughed again. “Nope.”
* * *
After work, I stopped home to change. Nan was already gone. Bark didn’t greet me at the door.
“Bark?” I called, waiting for the scratch of his nails against the tile. Silence. I ran down the hall, picturing Bark lying dead on the floor in my room. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in Nan’s room, where he could have eaten hand lotion and choked on his own vomit, or the laundry room where he could have knocked the ironing board over on himself, the living room where he might be tangled in the curtains, or the garage, where he could lick dripping motor oil.
I ran to the patio and stood at the edge of the pool, carefully scanning from one end to the other and back again, slowly, because sometimes things look warped underwater, and I needed to make absolutely sure he wasn’t there.
Had he gotten out? I ran through the house again, screaming, “Bark! Bark!” Fear tight in my throat. I could barely breathe. I threw open the front door to look for him outside, and there he was, on a leash I didn’t recognize. Althea held the other end. She’d been about to open the door. Shocked to see me.
“Where was he?” I asked, my voice strained. “I don’t know how he got out!”
“I’m sorry, Katie,” Althea said. “I assumed Nan told you I was coming to walk Bark.”
“Nobody told me! He was just gone!” I sobbed.
“I’m going to run Bark to your room so he doesn’t get upset,” she said, scooting past me, Bark gladly following.
My brain was still racing through every scenario that could lead to Bark’s death. I pictured him limp, spirit gone, no way to get him back, and my body reacted as if it were true. That heartbeat again. So loud. Blood electric under my skin. All of me boiling, about to burst.
“How could you do that?” I screamed when Althea came back. “How could you take him?”
She didn’t even flinch. “I’m so sorry, Kay,” she said slowly, softly. “I thought you knew.”
“I thought he was gone. I thought—” I was gasping for air. My heart felt dangerous. “How could you take him?”
“Alright, Katie,” Althea said. “Why don’t you sit on the floor. Right where you are. Okay?”
“I don’t want to sit!” I said, pacing. My skin felt wrong. Like it was too tight on my body. Too many nerves at the surface.
“Do you want me to help you calm down?”
“I want you to not take my dog!” I knew I was behaving horribly, and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop moving. My heart, my heart, too loud in my ears. Muscles twitching. I didn’t want her to watch me. “Please go!”
“I don’t want to leave you, Kaitlyn.”
“Go,” I said, crying hard, covering my face like it would somehow be less embarrassing if she couldn’t see my tears anymore.
“Do you want me to call Nan?”
I shook my head. “Just go.”
After she left, I ran to my room. Bark jumped off the bed to greet me, whining until I got down to face level with him. He licked the tears from my chin frantically.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I said. I wished that Althea could hear my apology too.