Page 19 of Love You Too

Her face contorts into a grimace before settling into a grudging half smile. “Thanks for helping me…relax.”

I roll out of bed and pull on a pair of sweatpants. “Here. Lemme walk you out.” Truman trails after us, but when I place my hand on Beatrix’s lower back to guide her toward the door, she takes an extra step away, so I lose contact. Guess we’re back to reality.

“Trix, I know it’s been years, and we didn’t exactly part on good terms, but I’m glad we can be friends.”

“Friends?” Her forehead creases and she seems genuinely confused.

“Yes. It’s what happens when two people don’t hate each other and can say a few nice words when they run into each other around town.”

“That’s what you think is happening here? We’re gonna be friends?” She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

I feel the blood drain from my face at her words. It’s not like I thought we’d be spending every day together from now on, but to act like we’re estranged feels like a blade in my chest. I don’t think she’s as cold as she’s trying to lead me to believe, but I’ll tread lightly because it’s all so new.

“Why not?

Opening the front door, I notice the dim light of evening and the sky turning a dusky blue. It’s my favorite time of day, the time that reminds me the most of Vermont. A light breeze rustles through the trees at the end of my driveway. The soothing balm to the relentless schedule during hockey season.

“Let’s just call it what it was. A good time.”

I’m not at all willing to dismiss it that easily, but for now, I let her think she can have the final word.

Truman, sensing the possibility of a walk, barrels past us onto the porch and promptly sits in front of Beatrix. He stares up at her with his large eyes and extends a paw as if to shake her hand. She smiles and reaches down to accept his paw. “Such a good boy. Yes you are.” None of her sass for him.

“He likes you,” I tell her, somehow feeling proud, as though I had anything to do with it. On the contrary, I think she likes Tru in spite of me, not because of me.

“It’s mutual.” She drops down onto my porch and sits cross-legged. Truman promptly curls up in her lap, and she pets his head. “Even though it was a little touch and go there earlier when I lost my coffee.”

“You hear that, Tru? Never come between a sleepy woman and her coffee.” I wag a finger at him, but he ignores me.

“He always misbehaves a little before I leave town.”

“Shh!” she admonishes. “Don’t say it in front of him. They understand everything, even if they don’t know the words.” She scratches him behind the ears, and Truman promptly rolls onto his back for a belly rub. He looks ridiculous, practically overwhelming the space in her lap, but they both look so content I’mnot about to pull him away. Just then, the mail carrier turns onto my drive and all hell breaks loose.

Truman scrambles to flip back onto his feet so he can chase the truck, toppling Beatrix onto her back in the process. He’s oblivious, barking and trailing behind the truck, so I lean over to give her a hand up.

“And we’ve come full circle,” I say.

“Yup.”

This time, she doesn’t resist when I pull her to her feet. Feels like progress.

“So he knows you’re leaving?”

“Yeah. I made the mistake of taking a suitcase out, so the jig is up. Quick trip to see my mom while I still have downtime before the preseason. Tru’ll be at the doggie spa in case you get lonely and want to visit.”

She looks at Truman, loping along as the mail carrier exits her truck and sets down two packages near the box, waving to me and pointing. I wave back. “Thank you!” She gives Truman a pat on the head and gets back in her truck while he sulks back toward us, the moment of fun behind him.

“Is it really a spa? Or is it one of those kennels where they sit in a cage all day and do one loop around the yard?”

“It’s actually my house in Berkeley. My acupuncturist loves him and housesits whenever I’m on the road, but he gets into trouble when I leave town, chews furniture, rips up plants. So he has to stay in a crate when she goes to work all day. I don’t love that part.”

“You should leave him with me.” She looks as surprised saying the words as I am hearing them. Her eyes go wide, and she claps a hand over her mouth.

“Was that your inside voice?” I ask. “You already having dog sitter’s regret?”

She nods. “Yes, but no. I do like that little guy. I could watch him while you’re gone. He’d have my yard to hang in all day, andI could take him on hikes up Buttercup Hill behind the winery. Plus, my niece would love him to pieces.”

She’s making it sound like paradise, and I find myself a little jealous of my dog. The invitation to join Trix on hikes doesn’t seem to extend to me.

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