Page 23 of Deep Gap

But that’s not where I want Greer. I don’t live there and Greer’s a full-grown woman, not an animal to re-home. So how do I convince Greer that I can make her as happy as the bees before becoming no more valuable to her than a drone that gets kicked out of the hive?

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Byron’s army buddy, Trig, has been bringing Tallulah to the training center for a puppy play date every other week. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. Some I’ll never see again. So I hitch a ride for the chance to pet and cuddle her.

Jovie would tell you that dogs have feelings too. You can tell by how depressed Jovie was and how she seems to anticipate hanging out with her best gal pal. Tallulah’s always excited to see me too, which reassures me she misses us the way we miss her.

Although, I’m certain she has a great family. Trig bought her special noise-canceling earphones. I thought it was over the top until I found out he brings her into a noisy bar a lot. Then when he put them on her to show off I thought it was adorable. Tallulah doesn’t even bat a pat to get them off her head.

Kneeling in the dirt, I hold her muzzle and nuzzle her nose. “You must’ve practiced to keep these on, good girl.”

She sits wagging her tail. It’s Jovie who wants them gone.

Done with the demonstration, Trig pulls the muffs off and rewards Tallulah with a treat. It’s not until he gives her a command that her bottom rises and Tallulah and Jovie spin around, herding each other in messy circles.

“Trig’s wife is in charge at Sweet Caroline’s.” Byron fills me in.

“Not for much longer. She’s giving her notice soon. We’ve kept it quiet that our son is about to become a big brother two times over. Byron here is the only person besides family we’ve mentioned the babies to so far.” Trig readjusts the winter hat he wears rain or shine.

I congratulate Trig on his twins. My heat radiates inside my chest having him confide his secret in me. But who am I going to tell?

The weather is nice today. The guys intend to sit outside. I spy a six-pack in Trig’s passenger seat. The brown bottles glint in the sunshine.

It’s not as if we have zero alcohol in the house, but beer and cars bring out my inner turmoil. I make an excuse about finishing my cleaning and go back inside. Trig shows up on Saturdays or Sundays and I leave a few chores, like breaking down boxes and resupplying the paper towels in the restrooms to keep me busy because I actually do have two days off. Plus, Karen reminded me she doesn’t care when it’s done, it’s that it’s done. I’ve been trying to stay on her good side because she’s been pushy about me moving in with them.

I appreciate their offer, but I need some breathing room. I can’t deny Karen a connection to Ellis. But memories of Ellis are embedded into every nook and cranny in that house. It’s only been the past few months that what I did to him doesn’t weigh on my mind and invade my dreams.

You take her son. You take the beeswax. Yet you won’t accept her hospitality? I admonish myself, placing industrial side rolls of TP on the stockroom shelf.

The closet closes in on me and I head for the break room. I take the spray disinfectant and a sponge and scrub every flat surface. When it’s time to rinse, Trig’s voice floats through the open window.

“So this kid who is dating Kimber’s daughter and lives with us, Morgan. He did some time. For what the legal and probation system considers, he is reformed and he’s going on to live the life of a model citizen. But what if another guy made a choice worse than Morgan’s?”

“Like killing a man.” Byron suggests.

“Indirectly. I mean, let’s say he wasn’t told by his commanding officer to point and shoot.”

I cringe. Byron and I have talked about what separates our pasts, but sometimes—in my worst moments—I can’t help wondering if he’s blowing smoke. Acceptance of me is often tied to what I can do for someone else. Waylon wanted a blow job. Karen wants all of my memories of Ellis.

“I get it. For argument’s sake.” Byron’s reply to Trig makes my stomach tense.

“The guy’s done with that. He’s moving on. But is there a point to his redemption if he goes on to live his best life for decades and he can still be incarcerated? If he still loses everything he’s worked for while becoming more of an asset to society than a liability.”

I shouldn’t be listening to their private conversation. My own experience has been one you’re deemed dangerous there’s no before or after. There just is.

Chunks of my life stopped existing: Greer in kindergarten proudly showing her parents she’d written her name in wobbly orange crayon. Fourth grade Greer standing on her tiptoes to match Ellis’s lanky height when we were the last contestants in the school spelling bee. Teenage Greer who’d fallen in love with her best friend. All those versions of me died alongside Ellis. I’ll forever be Greer at eighteen, charged as an adult, and missing the last promised weeks of my senior year and the life we could have led. My decision was stupid and arrogant and it defines people’s reactions to me, including Byron’s.

I’ve missed the last few exchanges, though Byron’s position is clear.

“No matter what this guy chooses, if his wife looks anything like yours does, she isn’t going to be lonely when he’s sporting an orange jumpsuit.”

I tear up as the pair throw jovial insults. Byron finds Trig’s wife attractive. He’s never called me beautiful. Our kiss was a mistake. He doesn’t want anyone getting the wrong impression that he’d be attracted to me.

“I can’t believe I gave my dog to a criminal,” he says.

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