Page 6 of The Good Boy

I lower the blanket. He looks at me and smiles cautiously.

“Breakfast?” he says hopefully.

He’s about thirty-five-ish, I think; blond, shaggy hair and striking eyes. One brown and one blue, and... No. Fucking. Way.

“So could you tell me where my dog is?” I ask him, my voice trembling with the kind of terrifying fear a person only experiences when everything they think they know about the world is about to be turned on its head.

“I’m here,” he says. “Can I go out for a pee now? Because this is weird and I don’t like it, and you slept in. I mean, I’m house-trained, but I’m notthathouse-trained, know what I mean?”

“Rory is a golden retriever,” I say. “You are a man.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He laughs. His laugh surprises him. He frowns. Laughs. Frowns. Laughs again. Frowns again.

“Is this kennel cough?” he asks.

“Look, I want to help you, I do,” I say. “But the thing is, I just woke up and there is a strange naked man on my sofa and my dog is missing, so if you could just tell me what you did with him, then—”

He gets up abruptly. The blanket falls to the floor. I grab a cushion to hide behind, obscuring his lower half. Slowly, as if he’s not sure of his balance, he walks over to the full-length mirror that stands against the wall.

“There’s a man in the house!” he shouts, spinning around in a circle. “Emergency! Emergency! There’s a man where that other dog usually stands!”

“It’s okay,” I say. “That’s your reflection. That’s you. Move your arm around, see?”

He raises one arm and then stares, first in the mirror and then at the arm itself, back and forth. Then the other arm. He turns around, focused on his reflection, his eyes widening. And then back again. And again. At last he comes to a stop, holding his arms out stiffly.

“Genie, why have I turned into a person, please?”

“I...” No, this is a dream. I pinch myself hard. Still a naked man in my living room.

“No, no, no, no, nope,” he says, disappearing into my bedroom and diving under the bed. Exactly what Rory does when he realizes he is going to the vet or the groomer, or Auntie Selena’s with the mean poodle. Exactly what Rory does when he is scared.

But...

I slap myself around the face.Ow.

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking there is no way on God’s green Earth that Nanna Maria actually granted me an actual wish yesterday that actually came true. And I definitely didn’t very stupidly, accidentally use it right on the stroke of midnight with a throwaway comment, did I?

That’s what you are thinking, right?

Well, you would be very surprised. I know I was. And now you are all caught up with the events as they happened.

Chapter Four

My mind is in meltdown and there is a naked man who might be my dog under my bed. So, not knowing what to do about it, I walk out my front door in my nightshirt and bare feet because what the fuck is happening? I don’t notice the rough paving stones under my feet as I pace up and down the street, or that I am muttering something incoherent under my breath, at least not until Miles appears.

“Eugenie, are you all right?” he asks, frowning. Miles often frowns. It’s like his version of a resting bitch face. I’m not sure if he was born with that frown or if it just comes from moving from London to Scarborough at an impressionable age after losing his mum. But I hardly ever see him really smile, which is a shame, because at the risk of my sounding like an example of toxic femininity, he’d look so much prettier if he smiled. Still, Milesismy friend and right now I really need one of those.

“No, I do not think I am,” I say as I stand on one leg and then the other. “I think I am having a breakdown...?”

“What’s happened?” he asks, dipping at the knees and taking hold of my shoulders. The touch is reassuring and distracting. Both good things. He fixes me with his kind brown eyes. “How can I help?”

“I don’t think anyone can help,” I reply, letting the top half of my torso lean into him.

“Genie, what is it?” Miles persists gently. He draws me into a hug. “When I saw you last night you were the same old Genie. What could have possibly gone so wrong since then?”

Hysterical laughter bubbles up from my stomach and bends me double, hands on knees, pissing myself. With laughter, I mean. I’m not quite at the incontinence stage yet. Though if things carry on like this it’s not that far off.

Right now all I can do is laugh. Peeling away from Miles, I sit down on my step, my head between my knees, guffawing, and snorting and sobbing a bit.

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