I was still fuming over what happened with Eric when about halfway to Monty’s I saw M&M pacing at the corner of Ash and Dermot. Their backs were to me, bowed heads covered in a dusting of snow. Monty was decked out in his down-filled parka and Mona, poor thing, wore a tartan green doggie sweater.
Any anger I’d been nursing since the coffee debacle that morning faded away as I grew concerned. What the hell were they doing? Puzzled, I hung back, watching as Monty travelled the same four feet, back and fourth, over and over. Mona did too, curling one and then another paw up to her substantial belly, in an it’s-so-cold-I’ll-be-gimped-for-life dance beside her master.
My heart had begun to beat in panicked thumps. M&M were acting weirder than usual. Unpredictable weird. Scary weird.
To put it in perspective - Monty’s idea of walking Mona was to drive to the grocery store parking lot early on Sunday mornings, boot her out of the car and coast alongside her as she took her constitutional. Mr. Outdoorsy he was not. Neither was Mona. In this weather her sashays around the lot consisted of a five-second squat to pee before hopping back in the passenger seat.
I wiped my running nose on my coat sleeve and went to see what was up with the frozen duo. Fresh snow squeaked under my boots like I was walking on Styrofoam. Mona turned at the sound, whining when she saw me, actually happy to see me for once.
I bent to brush the snow off her sharp beagle snout, but pulled my gloved hand back quickly when she tried to bite. Why did I always fall for those doe eyes? She panted triumphantly, but the falling flakes were persistent, settling on her short fur and tacky sweater even as Monty finally turned to see what had her attention.
“This weather isn’t fit for man nor beast,” Monty said, taking my presence in without a flicker of surprise. “Ran out of cream for my coffee and decided to take Mona for a stroll. Big mistake. Minus fifteen seems a helluva lot warmer from the couch.” In the dim streetlight his twinkling eyes, rosy cheeks and unshaven face gave him a Santa Clause vibe. Until he spoke. “Well, what are you waiting for kid? Let’s get inside.”
He gestured for me to take the lead – standing there, waiting for me to move. Almost as if he’d never been on this street corner a thousand times. Almost as if he wasn’t sure which direction home was.
I acted on instinct.
I twisted to face north.
So did Monty.
I faced south.
Monty did as well, clearing his throat in annoyance. “Take your time, why don’t you? It’s not like were freezing to death or anything.”
There was something very el wrongo with this. A sick, sad, angry feeling settled in my stomach. “You know what?” I put a finger to my lip, pretend thinking. “I forgot something back at Ace’s. You go on without me,” I spoke over Monty’s grumbled protest, “I’ll catch up with you guys.” I started back down the hill. After a few steps I spun to face Monty again. He and Mona were still standing at the corner. Monty’s shoulders were hunched. He looked defeated.
My heart went from squirrelly flutters to lurching in my chest.
In long strides I returned to them.
Monty’s face said it all.
My mouth dropped open as I prepared to lay into him, but Monty seemed to know what was coming. He sagged before me and that’s when I noticed why his eyes had seemed to twinkle so much. The streetlights were reflecting off his eyelashes - clumped together with frozen tears.
I snapped my teeth together. Anything I said would only hurt us both.
Silent and freaked, I brushed past him and lead the way home. This was quickly descending into the worst night of my life. Monty followed a few paces behind, talking to Mona. “I told you it was this way, girl. Didn’t I tell you? We would have been home an hour ago if you’d have listened to me.”
He’d put on brave face, like the situation was one huge joke. That only made it worse. Monty was losing his mind and the sad part – sometimes he knew it. It was easy to recall Monty’s off moments. How many of his little quirks were cover-ups for his faulty memory?
All the times I found his shaving cream in the fridge and he said he liked it chilled. The endless loops around the neighborhood before picking the right alley to drive down so he could park the car in his heated, detached garage located behind the house. Stumbling over certain words. Sudden changes of topic. Feeding Mona a dozen times a day, often as soon as she emptied her bowl. And most glaring – the real reason Monty’s cooking was life threatening. Sometimes he tripled one or two of the ingredients – salt, lets say, or sometimes he forgot ingredients. Like eggs in French toast. Bread soaked in milk and fried in a pan, is just not right.
What if I had gone straight to Monty’s and hadn’t stopped at the video store? Hadn’t had whatever moment Eric and I created and destroyed in the same breath? How long would M&M have been stranded just blocks from home? Would I have known to go looking for them when they were supposed to be looking out for me?
I didn’t know what to do. Mom was still in rehab – if I told her what was going on with Monty, she’d want me out of his house. Hell, she’d want him out of his house. Since there was nowhere else for us to go – she’d quit her program and come home before she was ready. Before she was just Mom again, not Mom: the drug addict. Or maybe that time had passed – maybe “just Mom” was gone forever.
No, it was better for everyone that I kept my mouth shut and stayed to keep an eye on Monty. I mean, how bad could it get in a few weeks, right? The icy sidewalk floated beneath me for a second as my eyes filled with unshed tears and blinked them away. I had to be strong. Had no choice. Couldn’t tell anyone about Monty.
I had to handle this myself.
It’s a Wonderful Life style snowflakes drifted down on us from the heavens, billowing around us at the mercy of the wind. Fragile. Helpless. Cold. Scared. Just like Mona, and Monty, and Me.