Change the World

Dina

Why is he so quiet? I continue to eat my hot dog, even though it stopped being hot long before I took my first bite. Nacho is sniffing the mesh of his purse, so I open the top to let him poke his head out and break off a piece for him.

Time to change the subject. This whole first-date-small-talk business is not as fun as my novels make it sound. “Once we get up here, I’ll put Nacho on his leash and walk him around for a bit. It’s his spot.”

“His spot? You come here a lot? I mean, I assumed that by the hot dogs…” Holden’s voice trails off.

“I live right there.” I point toward the condo building I’ve called home for the last three years.

“Oh, wow. You’re really close to the library.”

“That was on my must have list. I don’t…” Nope, I’m not getting into that right now. “I don’t mess around when it comes to books.”

He chuckles. “I got that impression from the multiple threats I received for bringing a book back late.”

I scoff. “There were no threats. You mistook my bookish passion for intimidation.”

He looks contemplative for a moment, his eyes bouncing around everywhere but at me. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But you were intimidating.”

“Still didn’t scare you away.”

His gaze lands on me now, and he has a wide, toothy grin. “No. Nacho almost did.” He crinkles up his hot dog wrapper and holds his hand out for me to give up mine, then he jogs over to the nearest garbage can.

Bonus points for not being a litterbug.

I decide, since there are no other dogs around, Nacho should get out to stretch his little legs, so as Holden marches back to where I’m standing, I hook Nacho’s leash on and lift him out of his tote.

“Time to unleash the beast?” Holden quips as I set Nacho on the ground.

“There will be no unleashing. Who knows what kind of chaos he would cause.” I watch as Nacho studies Holden’s approach. To my surprise, Nacho remains neutral. Not even a single hair raised on his back. I nearly topple over when he walks up to sniff Holden’s pant leg, then wags his tail. Nacho. Tail wagging. Never thought I’d say those two things together. He has rarely shown any level of happiness toward anyone other than me.

“Do you think he’s trying to butter me up so I’ll fork over the goods, then he can take me out? He looks calculating.”

I snicker at Holden, who is staring at Nacho hesitantly.

“Don’t turn your back on him, just to be safe.”

Nacho continues to sniff, stretching his neck to inspect the hanging bag.

“Ulterior motives. I knew it.” Holden chuckles, reaching his hand in the bag and pulling out the cookie he purchased. “Can I give him a piece of this?” he asks me.

“Sure. Watch your fingers.” I say that as a joke, but Holden’s fearful expression is what really makes me laugh. “Relax, Dickens. He’s six pounds.”

“You’ve never heard the phrase ‘it’s not the size that counts’?”

We both have matching raised-eyebrows and he appears to be suppressing a smirk, just as I am.

Holden is the first to recover. “The sentiment is the same.” His ears flush pink, which is very noticeable on his alabaster skin. He looks like he got an instant sunburn.

“Right.”

Nacho is patiently waiting at Holden’s feet, his tail still wagging. I clutch his leash, shortening it as much as possible so I can yank him back if he tries to chew Holden’s face. But he doesn’t. He gently takes the small piece of ‘Bad to the Bone’ cookie and eats it like the regal chihuahua he is.

“Bribery works,” Holden whispers and snaps off another piece of cookie; this time crouching down to put his face closer to Nacho. He gives my little terror another bite, which seems to seal the deal.

Nacho jumps up, propping his front paws on Holden’s thigh, and bounces to reach his face. Not to eat… to kiss.

“This isn’t what I had planned for my first kiss of the day, Nacho, but I’m flattered.” Holden’s ears turn an even more vibrant shade of pink, and I think mine may match.

I’m sucked into some alternate universe as I ask, “What first kiss were you planning on, Dickens?” What is wrong with me? I can read between the lines. I’m not ignorant to expectations on a first date. I’ve been on a few before and they all ended the same way. Each time, it just felt like I was fulfilling a duty in exchange for someone else purchasing dinner. I felt cheap and uncomfortable. Another date wasn’t an option; the only thing I looked forward to each time was going home. Now I’m standing a few hundred metres from my front door and I’m not eager to get there. It doesn’t appear that Nacho is either.

Holden avoids eye contact with me by scratching under Nacho’s chin and stammering something unintelligible. I gather I’m not getting a response to my question.

“He… I think he likes me.” Holden’s smile is endearing as he stares at the creature I was sure would never tolerate anyone other than me. He digs through the plastic bag and tugs out one of the tiny stuffed squirrels that belong to the tree stump toy.

Nacho takes it, holding it in his mouth. He turns to look at me and I swear, he’s smiling with the little stuffy in his mouth. When he clamps his jaw down, discovering that the new toy squeaks, his tail starts doing double time.

“Now we’re in for it. He loves squeaky toys.”

Holden stands, brushing his hands on his jeans. “The squeaking sound is supposed to mimic a dying animal. Makes sense he’d like that.”

Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me. “He’s got killer instincts.” My breath escapes me when Holden steps beside me, grazing his hand along my lower back. I don’t know if it was intentional, but the brief contact stalls my lungs, and suddenly they lack the ability to function.

“Dina?”

Still struggling to breathe, I hum, “Mm-hmm?”

“Want to go check out the art installation at the museum?”

The unrelated, totally platonic question helps jumpstart my respiratory system. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

I pick up Nacho and tuck him back in his bag. He is not forfeiting his new prized possession. The literal death grip his tiny jaw has on the brown polyester makes me giggle.

Holden and I stroll toward the museum, where an interactive art exhibit is displayed. The dark space and flashing screens displaying different imagery serve as a pleasant distraction. But standing next to Holden, not speaking, listening to a combination of the sound effects and Nacho squeaking his toy, makes all the awkwardness from the day hang over us like a dark cloud.

I could allow it to loom there, casting us both in a shadow, creating an overcast memory on this day, or I can try to focus on the bright points we’ve had. On how he went along with my weird date suggestion. How he didn’t question my excessive food purchase in the moment. How he went out of his way to win over my dog, who, until today, I thought was unwinnable.

“What did you think?”

I glance to my left and Holden is now watching me, not the video art.

“I’m not sure I understand visual art. My brain doesn’t work to process things that way, so I can appreciate pretty things, but I wouldn’t say they evoke any kind of emotion in me. The Mona Lisa just looks like a grumpy lady to me.”

“That’s probably not the reaction da Vinci was going for, but I get it. I don’t have any artistic ability at all.” He holds an arm out, gesturing for us to continue walking down the pathway that cuts through the vast green space.

“So, what kind of abilities do you have?” I hope he doesn’t take my innocent question the wrong way.

“Outside of studying, spending time with friends, and fetching books for Phoebe, I don’t do a whole lot else. And even my fetching duties won’t be needed much longer, so it’ll be back to a hundred plus hours a week studying.”

I stutter step, causing me to pull back behind Holden. He stops, then turns to face me, sliding his glasses up his nose with his pointer finger.

“What are you studying?”

He shifts his weight and grips the back of his neck. “I’m working on my PhD in history.”

So much about his personality makes sense. He has the lifelong student vibe. The perpetual learner, wanting answers to questions of the past. “Wow. So you already have your master’s?”

He looks uncomfortable talking about this, which doesn’t make sense. “Yeah, I finished it last summer. This past year has been dedicated to course work, then I’ve had from May until now to prepare for my comprehensive exams.”

“I’m jealous you’ve already finished your master’s, but if you’ve put the work in, you deserve it.” I pick at a piece of fluff on my sweater, avoiding his eyes. “Sometimes I think I’ll never get to the end of mine.”

His mouth gapes, but he composes himself quickly. “You’re getting your master’s? In what?”

“Library Science.” Normally I say that with a point of pride, but for some reason, knowing Holden has already achieved his master’s, it feels less significant. Less impressive.

“That’s… wow. You’re still young, no?”

“Late birthday, so I started university when I was seventeen. And I didn’t take any summer semesters off.” I shrug my shoulders to play off my fast-tracked education. “It helps me stay in the zone if I never leave it. Hyper-focus.”

“That makes a lot of sense. Are you doing a co-op type program?”

We continue strolling along, side by side, with Nacho murdering his squirrel. The relentless squeaking from my purse is drawing some strange looks from pedestrians walking past.

“My program gives some flexibility, so I had the choice for co-op or a thesis. I chose to do the thesis.”

“You may be the only person I’ve ever known who would choose to put themselves through the thesis process when you had another option.”

I’m not going to dive into the ridiculous reasons why I made that decision. Not right now. “It just worked better for me. The experience of the co-op would have been good, but I’ve learned a lot from my thesis research that I wouldn’t have learned from hands-on experience. Pros and cons.”

We reach the end of the pathway, leaving us the option to continue along the sidewalk in either direction or walk back through Garrison Common, which is often host to different outdoor concerts. Today, it’s a wide-open space punctuated by horn honks, engine-revving traffic from the Gardiner Expressway buzzing overhead, squeaking squirrels, and awkward first date conversation.

Holden glances at me as if he’s silently asking which way I want to go.

I ask, “Do you want to walk me home?”