Where We Belong (9 page)

She looked scared. It’s always scary when even your mom is scared.

“She saw you.”

“Guess so.”

“Why doesn’t she do that every morning when that man walks him?”

“Her. No idea. I guess maybe they don’t cross the street. I think she only saw us because I crossed the street.”

Again, I caught that panic from her, and it jolted me right down to my gut.

“What are we going to do now?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Mom. I have to take the dog for a walk. It’s my job.”

She sighed. “I guess I’ll just scoop her up, and we’ll go in the closet. And by the time you get back, Vi’ll be at a motel again. But there’s nothing else we can do. Oh, dear God, don’t let this be the day she asks us to leave.”

“No. Open the gate.”

Silence.

“Open the gate?”

“Yeah. Try it. Open the gate.”

“And then what?”

“Then I walk away down the street, and we’ll see what she does.”

“She’ll follow you.”

“That’s what I’m thinking. Right.”

“You sure you can handle her on the street?”

“No. You sure you can handle her here?”

Another long, panicky silence.

“What if she runs out into traffic or something?”

“I’m thinking she’ll stay close to Rigby, but anyway, let’s just try it. You know. In the driveway. Or right in front of the house.”

I swear, I could hear her next breath. She opened the gate.

Sophie trotted around to my left side, beyond where Rigby was sitting politely by my heel. She dropped to her knees, folded her legs under her, and propped up on straight arms. Made herself into the same sort of triangle as the dog.

I took a few steps down the driveway, Rigby heeling. It seemed to surprise Sophie, and she got off to a late start. She had to stumble to her feet and run to catch up. By the time she did, I’d stopped again, and she dropped into the same sit, into the same position, to the left of the dog.

I looked around at my mom.

“We’re going,” I said. “Wish me luck.”

She didn’t. She didn’t say a word. She had this look on her face like she couldn’t have said a word if she tried.

“Mom. Do something. Go inside and tell Aunt Vi everything’s okay.”

She stood frozen for another moment. Then she raised two crossed fingers and hurried away. Like she couldn’t bear to see what came next.

Sophie scuttled along to keep up, looking bizarrely uncoordinated. I guess I wasn’t used to it, because I wasn’t used to seeing her walk any distance in a semi-straight line, with purpose.

I found myself looking at her a lot. Part of the time because I was worried about her, but part of the time because she was fun to look at. She was wearing her pink skirt over thick black tights, and a pink top, and sneakers that were blinding white except for the grass stains on the toes. My mom had put her hair into two big, curly pigtails. Her legs were long and skinny and cute.

Whenever I passed somebody, they’d give me a little nod or not look at me at all. Or sometimes they smiled at me. Then their eyes would go down to Rigby, and usually they’d jump a little. Like she was a grizzly bear or something. Sometimes they smiled at her. But every single person I passed broke into a smile when they looked at Sophie.

I started thinking maybe I should take her every day.

Then I realized this was about five times more exercise than she was used to, and I got worried for the long run. What if she got tired and couldn’t walk home? Could I carry her that far? Would she even let me?

Then again, if she could go the distance… man, would she ever be nice and tired for the rest of the day. Maybe for every day. That could only be good. Right?

If
. And if not, I was out there alone.

I tried to pull myself back into the moment. Because the short run was going fine.

I stopped at each corner and waited for the light to turn, or, if it was just a four-way stop, for cars to go through and leave us a big space to cross. Rigby sat and patiently waited. Sophie sat and patiently waited. Then Rigby and I stepped into the street, and Sophie came scrambling after. She never did get the hang of taking off when we did. Just of catching up pretty fast.

Of course, I looked back at her constantly. But she was always doing the same thing. And if there was one thing I could always tell you about my sister… once she fell into a rut of doing the same thing, she just kept doing that same thing.

After a while, my mind even drifted off a bit. Then I’d jerk it back, thinking I’d already caused some kind of major disaster by letting my attention slip. I’d quick look back. And there she’d be, just rambling along, slightly behind us. It was kind of nice. I mean, not nice as in it wasn’t a total freaking disaster. Nice as in… nicer than it would have been without her along.

All of a sudden, I looked forward again and realized I was almost at Nellie’s Books. It made my heart pound to see it there in the middle of the block, but I wasn’t sure why. I hadn’t been back there to look at the book. Not even to give her my phone number. Probably she’d put the book back in stock by now. Maybe she’d even sold it. Thinking that made the bottom of my stomach feel kind of sick and disgusting. But it was probably true. It was probably gone.

I had to decide if I was going to hurry by and hope she wouldn’t notice or if I’d stick my head in and ask if she still had it. I could give her a ten-dollar deposit on the book later in the day. If she still had it.

That decided me.

I stuck my head in the door, my heart pounding so hard, I could hear and feel it in my ears, both. It was making me a little dizzy.

It took her a minute to look up. She was looking down at the counter—probably reading—and chewing on a long twist of black licorice. I stared at the side of her face for a while, and then when she saw I was there, I quick looked away.

“There you are,” she said.

“Yes. Here I am.”

“I thought you might not come back.”

Me, too. I didn’t say so.

“Well. I’ve been busy. You know. Starting in the new school and all. Trying to catch up. Anyway, later today, I’ll have ten dollars, and I’ll come back and put a deposit on that book. If you still have it. Do you still have it?”

Her face just completely fell. That made me feel like crap. For two reasons. Because it meant she’d probably sold it. And because I liked to make her smile. Not… whatever she was doing right then.

“You don’t want to do the inventory, huh? I guess I don’t blame you.”

I checked on Sophie. She was right where she was supposed to be.

“Oh. I didn’t think you really wanted me to.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“I don’t know. I figured you just felt sorry for me, because I couldn’t afford it.”

“Is there a reason why only your head is inside?”

“Yes, ma’am. Nellie. I have a big dog with me.”

“You see any signs that say No Dogs Allowed?”

“No, ma’am. Nellie. Are they? Allowed?”

“If they’re polite dogs.”

“She’s the most polite dog ever.”

“Bring her in, then.”

I took about ten steps, and then all three of us were standing on the rug in front of her counter. Well, actually, that’s not right. I was standing. Sophie and Rigby were sitting.

Nellie stood up and leaned over the counter. I could smell her hair. It smelled like fruit. Like some kind of shampoo with coconut or mangoes or both.

“And who’s this?”

“This is Sophie.”

“Oh,
this
is the Sophie you were telling me about. Is Sophie your little sister?”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean, yes, Nellie. Or actually… I guess… just yes. I don’t know why I keep doing that.”

“Me, neither. Hello, Sophie.”

“Um. Don’t take this personally. But she won’t say anything. She doesn’t even say hello to
me
.”

“Does she say anything? Ever?”

“She says
him
. But it sounds sort of like she’s saying
hem
. It’s what she calls the dog. She really loves the dog.”

“That makes sense.”

“Except it’s a girl dog.”

“And that’s the only word? Ever?”

“Well, not ever. When she was little, she started to talk. Kind of late. Like three. And not much. Just a few words. And then we kept waiting for her to talk more, but instead, she started talking less. And then she stopped making eye contact. And then she didn’t want to be touched…”

I trailed off, suddenly wondering what the hell I was doing. I’d been so grateful that Nellie hadn’t asked me about Sophie. And now here she was, pulling the truth out of me when I wasn’t even looking. Or maybe I was doing it to myself.

I think she could tell I wanted to change the subject.

“Licorice?” she asked.

She held out a big plastic tub of black licorice twists. I was happy for the distraction.

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Does Sophie like licorice?”

“Sophie loves licorice.”

I took a piece for Sophie first. Sophie reached her arm up, wanting, impatient, but she didn’t move out of her sit. Because Rigby didn’t.

I handed her the licorice, and she immediately handed it off to the dog.

“No! Don’t give it to—”

I tried to dive for it, but it was too late. I even opened Rigby’s mouth and looked in. It was already gone. She must’ve practically swallowed it whole. And then there I was, sticking my face in the mouth of this dog I barely knew, and her teeth were unbelievably huge, and I felt like a lion tamer, but with a lot less experience. But she just wagged her tail at me.

“Damn it, Sophie. I don’t know if the dog is supposed to have that.”

“I don’t think it’ll hurt her,” Nellie said.

Which was perfectly good thinking if it had been my dog. But Rigby wasn’t my dog. I was responsible for her. But there was nothing I could do now. Except tell Paul the truth.

I changed the subject fast.

“So, you seriously have this inventory you want somebody to help you with? What do you need to do?”

Nellie put her face into her hands and sighed.

“I’m embarrassed to tell you. Because I don’t want you to know how stupid I am. I want you to think I’m a better businesswoman than this.”

That seemed weird but also incredibly cool. That she would want to put her best foot forward for me. Not just the other way around. But I didn’t say so. I didn’t say anything.

“You know I sell both new and used. And when I buy from a distributor, I have a record of that. And when I send returns, I have a record. But then I started offering a twenty percent discount for customers who sell back their books. But, like an idiot, I didn’t set up a record-keeping system for those books. So now it’s hard to find if I have a book or not.”

“But you keep them in alphabetical order by author, right?”

“I do. And then the customers come in and browse and put them back
out
of alphabetical order. And by now, I’ve probably spent a hundred hours re-alphabetizing, trying to save myself maybe ten hours of inventory work. Thing is, it’ll take two people. I need somebody to read off the titles while I sit at the computer. Cathy says she will, but she doesn’t really have the hours. If you could at least get me started…”

“If you really need the help. I didn’t think you really needed the help.”

“I really need the help. You have no idea.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you closed on Sundays?”

“Yes, and that’s the point. No customers. No ringing phones. How about eleven? Eleven to three.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, my God,” she said. “I’m saved.” She looked down at Rigby. “I love your dog. What a sweetheart.”

“She’s actually not mine. I’m just walking her for my neighbor.”

“Oh. I thought… Because you said Sophie was so attached to her…”

We both looked down at Sophie, waiting in absolute silence, with absolute patience, on the rug.

“Yeah. It’s weird. It’s kind of a weird situation. Sophie is in love with the dog next door.”

“Hmm,” she said. “How does that work?”

I thought again about Paul Inverness and his news.

“That’s what we’re waiting to find out,” I said.

Sophie made it all the way to the park and back on her own steam. But then, when we got home, I realized this was the tricky bit, right at the end. I couldn’t put her in the yard and then walk away with the dog. She’d bring down the whole neighborhood again. I’d have to take her to Paul’s door with me. Even though I wasn’t sure if she would scream when he took the dog back inside. She hadn’t been screaming anymore when Rigby went into the house, but that was from across the fence. Now that she was used to being right beside the dog…