Page 23 of Ebbing Tides
The woman was easily in her sixties, probably beyond the age of retirement. I imagined she'd experienced her share of disobeying kids and childish promises broken. But I also doubted she'd ever seen a dog euthanized because it had shit on the floor.
Marcella seemed like a good person.
My father, however, was not.
“Couldn't keep a dog he couldn't care for,” Dad said, weak but every bit as mean as ever. “Isn't that right, Maxwell?”
I swallowed against a torrent of anger and said, “Right, Dad.”
“So, now, don't you think, if you can't care forthatmutt you've dragged into my house against my wishes, then—”
I cut him off by spinning on my heel and raising a finger. Marcella startled, gasping quietly, before resuming her scrubbing of Dad's legs and working her way up to his waist and groin. I looked down at my father, this frail skeletal version of him, and knew without a sliver of a doubt that I could snap him like a goddamn twig. It wouldn't take much strength at all. One hand around his corded throat and a few moments of pressure were all it'd take to end his existence on this planet. But I wasn't a monster, and I couldn't bring myself to do it, even as I remembered that one glorious moment when I'd actually fought back.
Back when he’d destroyed my book.
Dracula.
“What?” he spit, a wicked, wicked smile spreading across his lips. “What do you want to say to me, boy?”
The front door opened to the house, and Lido scrambled out of the room to greet our guest. Relief washed over me, traveling through my limbs, all the way down to my fingertips and toes as I lowered my hand and held my head higher.
“I'll see you in the morning,” I grumbled. “Have a good night, Marcella.”
“You too, Max,” she quietly replied as I hurried away from my father’s bedside.
Grace stood in the living room, her youngest at her side—my niece, a little girl named Anna, who'd just recently turned eight and looked exactly like her father. I faltered at the sight of her, not expecting her to be there, but all the same grateful. I was less likely to blow a fuse in the presence of a child.
Grace smiled as she rushed toward me, her arms outstretched. “You're getting scruffy,” she said as I enveloped her in a hug. “Why don't I see you anymore?”
“Because you're busy and I'm a prisoner here,” I answered matter-of-factly, hugging her tight.
“You sure that's all it is?”
“Yeah,” I said, and it was the truth.
I released my sister to ruffle my niece's hair. “Hey, kiddo.”
She sighed and brushed my hand away, and I bit back a laugh. It seemed that, overnight, my only niece had gone from a playful little girl to an unamused young woman. I wasn't sure when it had happened, but I did enjoy teasing her … just as I'd enjoyed teasing Lizzie and Jane.
Fuck.
“Hi,” she mumbled before turning her attention and a big grin to Lido. “Hi, boy!”
I looked at my sister and jabbed a thumb in the direction of her daughter. “She'd hate me if I didn't have this dog.”
“Well, isn't it a good thing we gave him to you?”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help but smile at the memory.
Just a little under nine years ago, right before Christmas, Grace and Sid had come by my place with a little wiggling bundle of black fur, certain that having something to care for would keep me from finding temptation at the bottom of a bridge.
They'd been right.
Even if some days were harder than others, Lido always made them just a little better.
“Well, look, I gotta run,” I said, glancing at my watch and realizing that, unless there wasn't any traffic, I was likely to be late. “Do me a favor and keep Lido away from Dad.”
Grace frowned. “Why's that?”
