Page 6 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
I glance over my shoulder and find my mom leaning on the doorframe. Her hair is wet from her shower, and she’s wearing a big, fluffy robe despite the heat.
“Why didn’t you tell me you told Glory she could have a dog?” I ask, and my mom smiles slightly, the left side of her mouth tilting up higher than the right.
“I haven’t seen you.”
It takes longer for my mom to say the sentence than it would most other people. “Healthy” people. Her speech isn’t as slurred as it was, but she still speaks with long pauses. Her words come out clipped, yet soft around the edges, like her mouth is still relearning how to form them.
“Who is going to watch the dog while Glory is at school and work?”
“I will,” Mom says with a small nod. I purse my lips, swallowing back the need to argue, and my mom laughs. “I can do it. I’m moving much better now.”
I glance back at the dog.
“And what about the lease? We’re not supposed to have pets.”
“Rosa said it’s fine,” Glory chimes in, and my eyes widen.
“You got Rosa on board, too?”
Glory grins and bats her eyelashes. “Rosa loves me. Unlike you.”
I glower at her. Rosa is our landlord. She’s also our father’s cousin and the reason our rent hasn’t gone up in the last ten years. I’m not surprised Rosa caved. She does love Glory, and she loves my mom. Jury is still out on how she feels about me. While she was the one who called me to let me know my mom was in the hospital, I know she hasn’t forgiven me for dropping out of high school my senior year and skipping town.
Rosa thinks I’m just like my dad, and it makes me want to throw up because I think she might be right.
I fold my arms over my chest and glance at the dog again.
“He ate my sneaker.”
“Your sneaker is ugly. He did you a favor.”
My jaw drops again, and Glory snorts out a laugh.
“I’m kidding! Sort of. I’m going to take him out to go potty. C’mon, King.”
“King?” I ask, and she grins at me.
“His name. Torren King.”
“You can’t name your dog Torren King.”
She rolls her eyes. “Too late. It’s already on his collar. Besides, doesn’t he look like him?”
I stare at the dog, and fuck me, he actually does kind of look like him. Shaggy black curls obstructing emerald eyes. The more I stare, the more I can see it.
Fuck. Me.
Glory is completely oblivious to my turmoil, as usual, but this time I’m grateful for it. She runs out of the bedroom without another word, and the adoring dog follows at her heels. A few seconds later, the front door opens and shuts. I look at my mom.
“A dog is a bad idea.”
Mom shrugs. “She needs this.”
I see the pleading in her eyes. The sorrow. Theguilt, even though the last thing she should feel is guilty. And despite the fact that I still think letting Glory have a damn dog is a terrible idea, I concede. Because Mom is right. Glorydoesneed this. A little spark of joy, of hope, when we’ve spent a year fumbling about in near darkness.
Wealldeserve that, but I think mine will be on hold for a while longer.
3
