Page 37 of Bear Strength

I walk into the house. It smells like fresh flowers. I turn to my left and see a purple, glass vase filled with a garden bouquet.A pair of gardening gloves and shears are resting next to it. A big, broad-rimmed sun hat rests on the coat rack.

“My mom’s into gardening,” Dominick adds, seeing me watch those items. “You hungry?”

“No, thank you,” I shake my head. “When is your mother coming back?”

“Probably around 9,” he tells me.

I look at the wall clock. It’s close to 8 pm.

“I wanted to give this to your mother,” I tell him, holding the book in my hand.

“What is it?”

“It’s a signed copy of Bram Stoker’s Dracula.”

“Wow,” I hear him whistle, impressed. The sensation brings me joy. If he’s impressed, hopefully, she will be as well. “She’ll love it.”

“Do you think so?” I ask.

“I’m sure,” he nods. “So, you like my mom?”

He sits on the couch, and opens a can of Coke. He drinks it thirstily, then places it down on the little coffee table. I notice there are no coasters. Maybe his mother doesn’t mind.

“She is a lovely woman,” I say, confused. How does one say this to a child? Is this even a conversation the two of us should be having?

“Do you think she’s attractive?” Dominick continues. I see he’s smiling.

“Yes, she is very attractive,” I nod again. “But, I don’t think it’s a topic I should be discussing with you.”

“Fair enough,” he agrees. “Wanna play?”

He grabs the PS console and throws one at me. I react quickly and grab it in my hands. I’ve never played this. He probably sees it on my face.

“Come on, I’ll show you how it works.”

We spend the following hour playing shooter games. I’m not that good at it. I’m better hands on, but I won’t be telling any of that to this boy. I almost envy him for everything he’s got. A life ahead of him. A mother who loves him. He can go places in the world. I’m grateful to Mason, but this is the only road for me. There will never be any other, and that saddens me sometimes.

“Knock, knock!”

We both turn around to face the door the moment we hear the sound of someone’s voice. I recognize it immediately. So does Dominick. A beautiful face appears before us a moment later. She is slightly flushed. She is carrying bags in her hands.

“Let me help you,” I jump up.

“Glad someone will,” she smiles, allowing me to take the bags from her.

I take them to the kitchen, and she follows me there. She smells like burgers and fries. Her hair is up in a ponytail. When she brushes past me, a faint whiff of her flowery perfume is still there, on her perfectly white skin. Flawless.

“Oh, I so need a nice, relaxing shower,” she moans, massaging the back of her neck with her hand, and tilting her head to the side.

I wonder at the sound of water sliding down her perfect skin. But, that is a sight I will never witness. I can’t even hope. I erase the potentially dangerous image from my mind. I doubt I’d even know what to do. It’s been so long. Too long.

I return to the living room to grab the book I brought her. When I come back to the kitchen, I see her putting a few groceries away.

“This… this is for you.”

When she turns to face me, she is surprised. Pleasantly surprised. She looks down at my hands and the book I’m holding.

“For me?” she asks.

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