Page 54 of Bodybuilders for the BBW

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” I moved in closer, offering her the lead, and she took it readily. “But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t have time to,” she said firmly. “I’ve got about twenty minutes to take Bronson for a quick walk around the block and then make sure he eats and drinks something.” He had already today, seeming to come out of his shell. Her eyes met mine and there was something hard and brittle there. “Then I’ve got a pizza and a movie date with Mandie.”

I swallowed, trying hard not to think about the pasta sauces I’d been working on all day. The hope was that if I enticed her inside, maybe we could have a take two of the other night. Instead, it looked like the boys and I would be eating pasta leftovers for every meal for the next few days.

“Can’t be late for that,” I said. “I figured we’d take Bronson down the street. It's pretty quiet down here, not a lot of kids or other dogs.”

“Right.”

Whatever happened to Katie today, it was still on her mind. A ghostly presence, it left me feeling like I was a third wheel in my own front yard.

“So we take it slow,” she told me. “Let Bronson lead the way.” The dog gazed up at her, panting happily at the sound of his name. “If he starts to get skittish, we pause, let him centre himself and if that doesn’t happen, we bring him back home. Slow, controlled, calm exposure.”

“Trauma informed practise.” She turned my way, really seeing me for the first time since she got out of the car. “Makes sense. We use something like that at work.”

None of this was going the way I planned it. The question I wanted to ask Katie was sitting there on the tip of my tongue, but it went unsaid.

“So you managed to get a day off?” she asked as we started forward. Bronson paused, sniffing around madly, then presumably feeling like it was safe to do so, he followed our steps. “Good boy!”

“Yeah, today and a day next weekend,” I replied. “You?”

“I get the whole weekend off for working through a few Saturdays and Sundays for my colleagues,” she replied. “I’m going to sleep in and watch way too much TV and read books.” Her nose wrinkled. “If I can stop Mandie from trying to drag me to the gym. She threatened to pick me up bodily and carry me there, and I said she couldn’t, and somehow that ended up with her showing that she could do squats using my body as the weight.” She shook her head. “Never tell my sister she can’t do anything.”

“Noted.” My eyes scanned the suburban street, looking for stimuli that might stress the dog out. Kids weren’t home from school yet, so there weren’t any of them yelling or screaming. Most people were at work, so the houses were still and quiet. “There’s?—”

It was all going so well. Bronson was trotting along, tail wagging, looking like a dog that was having the time of his life, when some idiot came roaring around the corner on his motorbike. The engine roared, and I knew exactly how this would go. Without thinking, I sprang into action, leaping over the dog, putting my body between him, Katie, and the road.

“It’s OK. You’re OK.”

I spun around to find Katie down by the dog’s side, rubbing his chest in soothing strokes. Bronson quivered, his eyes darting from side to side. Was he seeing us, the street, the bike as it took off down the street, or something else?

“Hey, boy.” I put myself in his line of sight, deliberately blocking off his view. Close down the space, reduce stimulation, and help him find his centre, that was the plan, but right when I thought we were getting somewhere, he yanked hard on the leash.

“Ow!”

My focus wasn’t Bronson right then. The dog went pelting back up the street, but I had Katie’s hand in mine, inspecting the red mark there. I pressed the skin around it, heard her involuntary hiss, and felt her try to pull away.

“How much is it hurting?” I asked. “How’re your fingers?” I started to move them gently. “Any pain?”

“No, but Bronson…”

She was up and on her feet and running after him seconds later, which was something I should’ve done.

He was my dog, my responsibility, and I should be focussed on his well-being, but beating myself up didn’t stop me from feeling the shadow of her palm in mine. We didn’t need to go far. Bronson had thankfully bolted for the front door, and right now he was pressed into the corner by the window, his tail wagging furiously.

“Bronson…” Could a dog have looked any more pitiful? I didn’t think so, which had me crouching down and taking a step towards him. He let out some anxious little whines. “Bud, it's OK. You did so well. That stupid damn bike?—”

“Maybe keep it light and fluffy right now?” Katie whispered.

“New things can be scary, bud,” I told him, sinking down to the ground. “For all of us. You should’ve seen me the first day I needed to put an IV line in…”

Bronson couldn’t understand the words I was telling him, but my actions, my tone, he read them all too well. He dared to pull his face away from the wall, shooting me a brief look before trying to make himself small. The fact he was probably forty kilos of dog didn’t make a difference. Ancient instincts were kicking in to help him survive this.

“C’mon, you big baby.” Slowly, carefully, I slid my hands over the dog’s ribs, and when I felt the fine tremor leave his body, I picked him up, hoisting him up into my arms. “I’ve got you.”

There was, of course, the problem of how to open the front door, but Katie was already there. The bright smile I caught as I passed by helped lighten my load. Instinctively, I walked towards my bedroom and as soon as I let him down, he was back under the bed. I’d left an old, sweaty tank top under there to help him get used to my scent.

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