Page 35 of Hold Still

She picks up her laptop and resumes her clicking. I remain looking up at the ceiling for a good minute until my curiosity gets the better of me. Standing, I walk around and sit next to her. She refines the graphic, changes out the couple a few times, and plays with the colors. Makes it more vibrant.

“There. I think it’s better now. Still rough.”

“McKenna, it’s really good.” Lyrics jump into my brain and I pick up the sheet music and add the words to the song. We continue like this—she plays with the graphics and I compose—in silence. The only soundtrack being her keys clicking and my eraser changing words here and there.

Lost in the process, I have no idea how much time has passed when my creativity ebbs. But the song is basically finished. “I think it’s almost done.”

“Really?”

I nod. As I stand to get my guitar, Bans races into the room, knocking me over, slobbering kisses all over my face. McKenna scoots off the sofa. Laughing, I turn the other cheek to even out the doggie germs.

“Okay, down girl.”

The dog’s tail thumps against the back of the sofa and she barks.

“Is that right?”

She barks again. Laughing, I stand up and go over to her bowl, checking the time on the oven clock. It’s nearly four—how did that happen? “Sorry, Bans. I didn’t realize I missed your dinnertime.” I pour her kibbles into her bowl and she starts eating before I can pull the container away.

From across the room, McKenna says, “I can’t believe it got so late.”

“Me either,” I reply. At least we both were in the zone. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I’m not sure what’s here.” I open the refrigerator.

“Oh, I shouldn’t.”

“We have chicken and pork.” I pull out the chicken. “Want some Arroz con Pollo?”

“Well…”

Her voice trails off. Neither one of us has had anything to eat since the blueberry muffins. “It’ll take no time to whip up. Stay.”

“What can I do to help?”

I ask her to cut up some onions and carrots while I get busy preparing our meal. It’s going to be a shortcut version and not the authentic one Mamí makes, but still good.

Her hand steals one of the blueberry muffins and brings it toward her mouth. Grabbing her wrist, I tease, “Don’t mind if I do,” and take a bite of her delicious muffin. The blueberry kind.

“Hey.” She giggles. “Get your own.”

As we continue preparing our meal, Bans enters the kitchen and runs in a circle around us. While I’m amused, McKenna drops her cutting knife at least three times, her shoulders nearly at her ears.

Taking pity on my dinner companion, I send Bans outside. McKenna’s shoulders immediately drop into their normal place. “She’s really a sweetheart.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I’m just not a dog person.”

“Kinda picked that up.”

“But what an unusual name. Is it short for anything?” She places her elbows on the island.

“Yeah. For Banshee.”

“Oh.” She bounces off the island. “Why’d you name your dogthat?”

No matter what’s happened today, I’m not ready to admit all the shit that went down with my ex-wife. So I give her a sanitized version. “I got her a few years ago when things were going pretty bad.” Not that things have gotten much better, but at least I’m free of that bitch forever. “I needed a name to express how I was feeling at the time, and ‘Banshee’ seemed to fit.”

I tense. I’m not sure how she’s going to react. So, I’m not prepared when she throws her head back and laughs. I can’t help myself and chuckle. “Damn. Well, that about sums everything up, huh?”

“Pretty much.”

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