Page 16 of Deep Gap

I crack the bedroom door so that the pup can still come to lie down in her bed later on.

The sun streams in the next morning. I head to the kitchen to start the coffee. It’s a bag I’d picked up at Baked Beans and keep in the freezer for special occasions. Tallulah is where I left her, but Greer is missing.

I panic until I spot her red sweater folded on top of the neat pile of linens. I slept until my alarm went off. Greer goes into work before daybreak.

I indulge in the coffee anyhow while feeding the dogs, shower, and dress. Then I leave Jovie and Tallulah behind for the second time in two days and drive to the training center.

“Good morning, Byron.” Karen waves, stopping short. “Where are the girls?”

An excuse rolls off my tongue. “Not feeling well. I may take an early lunch to go check on them.”

“Aw, I’m sad to hear that. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks… Oh hey, Karen, have you seen Greer around?” I try to sound nonchalant.

“She’s finishing up in the kennel. Nice job yesterday, by the way. I think you did more than your fair share. If this dog trainer gig goes south and you can moonlight as a custodian.” She ribs.

“Appreciate it, and I’ll keep that in mind.” I laugh. “Greer did the hardest parts.”

Karen hangs her head. “I’m sure she did.”

I trod off, finding Greer right where Karen said I would. The kennels were spic and span before we cleaned in here. I can’t fathom what else there is to do when the training center doesn’t house any animals in between the holidays. Pups deserve a Merry Christmas too.

“You left.” I kick the doorstop out of the way to give us some privacy. I lied to Karen because Greer gets to tell her what she wants.

“I wasn’t sure if you needed the first and second month upfront. It’s not like Waylon’s coughing my security deposit back up.”

I codfish.

“Kidding, Byron,” Greer deadpans.

“I could have driven you in.”

“One stop fewer on the bus.” She shrugs. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I can drive you home when your shift is over.”

“Did you know there are also nicer bus stops on your side of town?”

“Greer.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t go to my apartment alone.”

“The back of my car is empty. I’ll bring you to get whatever we can carry. Trig owes me a favor. We’ll get the rest and your furniture—”

Greer closes her eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?” she asks, dropping her grip on the spray bottle and dingy newsprint she’s holding.

“What have you done that gives me a reason to be mean?”

“I killed Mac and Karen’s son.”

“That’s not a reason. And it isn’t something you did to me.” Those are issues she has with our employer. From my vantage point, it’s clear they’re healing, so why make their trauma my business?

“I only have six hundred each month to put towards rent.” She deflects.

“Dollars?”

“No, dog bones. Yes, dollars.”

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