Page 7 of A Boy Called Lovesong

I sat on a bench in the dog park, the same one I always sat on.

Usually, I’d sit and watch Chet play with the other dogs: the entitled Labradoodle named Lulu, and the British bulldog named Fred and that pompous fucking Pomeranian, Teddy.

But as I unclipped Chet’s leash from his collar, he didn’t rush to play with the other dogs.

Instead, he just sat there by the bench.

Watching as I did.

Not interested at all in engaging with the other canines, just as I was never interested in engaging with the other humans in the park.

At one point he trotted a short distance away and did his business.

I parceled up his poop in a bag, tied a knot and deposited it in the trash.

Then together we sat—him at one end of the bench, me at the other—watching the other dogs in their state of happiness.

“Is Chet alright?”

The voice startled me, and I jerked to the left to see Teddy’s owner, a thin older woman with a necklace that matched Teddy’s collar. She was standing by the bench, pointing to Chet.

I must have looked confused or perhaps even surprised as I looked up at her.

“Your dog, Chet. Is Chet alright?” she asked again. “He normally likes to play with the others. He’s not unwell, I hope.”

I shook my head. “He’s… he’s not unwell.”

The woman with the matching collar to Teddy’s leaned in closer. “Areyoualright, dear?”

“Dear,” she called me. That was the thing about humans at dog parks. We all knew each other’s dogs’ names, but we had no idea of each other’s names, nor did we have any interest in finding out.

“Yes, I’m alright,” I answered, finding it hard not to sound defensive. “Why do you ask?”

“Because, dear… you’re crying.”

“I am?”

I quickly realized I didn’t have the energy to keep up a façade. I clipped the leash onto Chet’s collar and stood from the bench. “We have to go now,” I told Teddy’s mom.

As Chet and I walked hurriedly from the park, the woman called after me. “I hope everything’s alright.”

I wanted to turn around and tell her, “No… nothing will ever be alright again.”

But Chet had to be walked.

Chet had to poop and pee.

And if I stopped coming to this dog park, it was another six blocks to the next one.

So instead, I called over my shoulder to Teddy’s mom, “Everything’s fine. Thank you for asking.”

I was a block from home when my phone rang.

I snatched it out of my pocket.

My head, you see… my head had started doing this strange thing where it kept playing lousy pranks on me, telling my heart that it was him calling.

It was Joel.

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