Page 59 of Shattered Chords

“They evacuated over ten thousand people,” Harper continued to read the news off his phone.

“Let’s talk about something positive,” I suggested, glancing outside, where the sky was blue and the sun was bright.

Hundreds of thousands of acres of dry land burned every single year in Southern California. Wildfires had become just as normal for people who lived near the mountains and outside the immediate city as heat waves...or earthquakes. But the chaos they initiated was the worst. I’d lived through only one evacuation, which happened before I bought my house, but my parents had seen way more damage and had been forced to leave their home several times in the past.

“Well, our sales are up this month,” Harper blurted out, then added, “You wanted something positive, sweets. Will that do?”

“Yes, that’ll make my mother extremely happy.”

And there were very few things that made my mother happy. I, sadly, wasn’t one of them.

9 Dante

Every time I tried to leave the house, Snowflake made a scene.

I had no idea that having a dog entailed so much mental and physical work. Good thing time wasn’t an issue. Except for my AA meetings and therapy appointments, there wasn’t anything else that required me to disappear from the premises for more than an hour or two at a time. Not counting my hikes with Malik, which he’d backed out of the past couple of days due to his divorce taking an unexpected turn.

Yanneth was also pleasantly surprised when she showed up for work on Friday and was met with a white ball of fur, who spent a full minute licking her shoes before letting her proceed to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.

That afternoon, she was gracious enough to show me how to bake artichokes. Yes, fucking artichokes! And after that, the two of us sat on the terrace and sampled my feeble attempts with Snowflake barking and limping around the chairs and demanding to be included in the feast. Of course, after sniffing the hell out of his share, he decided it wasn’t tasty enough and returned to munching on his treats.

As I watched him waddle across my yard, ears flapping and eyes gleaming with excitement, I couldn’t figure out why anyone wouldn’t want him in their house, why anyone would give him away like some old shirt that wasn’t in style anymore.

The answer was just as obvious as it was confusing. Perhaps for the same reason my mother hadn’t bothered to put any effort into loving me or making me into a better person than I was today.

Later that night, after tossing and turning in bed for what seemed like hours on end, I went downstairs and looked for Snowflake. He was in the kitchen, curled into a ball under the table, ignoring the doggy bed I bought him at Yanneth’s suggestion.

“Hey, bud. Why are you here?” I dropped into a crouch and reached for him carefully, then pulled him from his hiding spot and cradled his small warm body to my chest. Surprisingly, he went willingly.

I’d been reading all sorts of online articles about adopted dogs now that I was a proud owner of one, and according to the literature, most pets took some time to adjust to the new family and become friendly.

Not Snowflake.

He was curious about everything and everyone. He just didn’t understand that he’d become rich. He ignored the toys and the bed and napped on the floor. He also ignored the pee pads and peed wherever he deemed fit and I was too lazy to train him.

“I’m not used to sleeping alone,” I whispered at him as I climbed the stairs. “I typically prefer women, but the one I like doesn’t like me back. So you’ll have to help me out here, all right?”

In turn, Snowflake licked my fingers.

He slept in my bed, and in the morning when I woke up, he’d drooled all over the pillows and knocked down the digital clock that sat on the nightstand.

“I suppose it’s time to set some ground rules, huh?” I muttered as I got to my feet and looked around the room.

To that, Snowflake excitedly nuzzled my ankles.

After breakfast, I called Malik to make sure he was staying dry. The drama with his soon-to-be ex-wife couldn’t be doing his sobriety any favors.

“I’m hanging in there, brother.” He sounded less and less convincing every time we spoke about the divorce.

“You sure? My offer still stands.” For some reason—and perhaps that reason was a bit selfish—I wanted his company. The property seemed lonely now that I’d seen what a real house should be like. Camille’s house. Small, cozy, clean, and stuffed with all sorts of furniture and family photos. I was looking forward to going back there this afternoon for my second lesson with Ally.

“You got a crush on me or something?” Malik laughed into the phone.

“I can’t fucking live without you. Didn’t you know?”

“I’m thinking about it. For real,” he said, this time serious.

“Let me know.”

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