Page 32 of All We Could Still Have

Deeogee looked longingly at the cookies. Dana pulled a stuffed penguin from her bag and tossed it to him. He settled in front of the recliner, chewing on it, sending a chorus of squeaks through the room.

“Kyle’s still not back?” She twisted an Oreo open and scraped the white crème filling off with her bottom teeth.

“I’m not sure he’s coming back.”

“Give him time,” Dana said.

The squeaking was incessant. I glared at the noisy penguin. “It’s been a week.”

Dana cracked open another cookie. “That’s nothing.”

It was something. Seven days, a quarter of a month, 168 hours. I strode to the recliner and ripped the penguin out of the dog’s mouth. Deeogee whimpered.

“Nikki,” Dana scolded. “Give that back to him.”

I stomped back to the couch and hid the stuffed animal behind my back. The puppy followed and stared up at me, still whimpering. For such a small animal, he made a lot of noise. I imagined him whining in the middle of the night when he had to go to the bathroom and Dana sleeping right through it, one of her roommates stumbling out of bed to take him outside, or worse, the dog leaving puddles of pee all around the town house that Dana didn’t bother to clean up. “Are your roommates okay with you having a dog?”

“Come here, Deeogee,” Dana called, clucking at the puppy. He didn’t budge.

His name grated on my nerves almost as much as the squeaking. “You have to call him something better than Deeogee.”

I picked him up and placed him in my lap. His wagging tail brushed against my arm, tickling it. “You need a new name.” I spoke with the same type of voice people often used with babies. The puppy stared at me with his big chocolate-drop eyes. My heart melted. I pulled the penguin out from behind me. The puppy’s head bobbed up and down as he took it with his mouth, almost as if he were nodding. “Oliver. You look like an Oliver.” The penguin squeaked. “See, he agrees,” I said, patting the puppy’s head. “What do you think?” I asked Dana.

She shrugged. “You can call him that if you want.” She was back to picking her thumbnail. “At least for the next few months.”

“Why for the next few months?”

She reclined in Kyle’s chair with her hands laced behind her head and grinned at me.

“You want me to take him.”

“He’ll be a good distraction for you and Kyle.”

I thought about when we were kids, how one spring Dana had badgered our parents to let her sign up for softball. It wasn’t easy for them to take time away from the restaurant to drive her to practice and games, but they relented and let her join the team. She lost interest and quit before the season ended. Same with guitar lessons. She took two before declaring instruments were not for her. Working at Mount Stapleton and lifeguarding on the Cape were the only things she had ever committed to.

“You’re sick of him already?” I asked.

She flinched. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not taking your dog.” I looked down at the adorable puppy cuddling in my lap. “No offense, buddy.”

Dana sighed. “The landlord was in town and stopped by. No pets allowed.”

“Dana, how could you not know that?”

“I did know, but he lives on the other side of the country. I didn’t think he’d find out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“He’s going to stay with you until I leave for the summer.”

“Until June?” I set the dog on the floor and stood. “I’m not taking your dog.”

“It’s three months away. In the grand scheme of life, that’s nothing.”

“I have too much going on.”

Dana looked pointedly at the pillow and blanket I’d been using while napping on the couch. “What exactly do you have going on?”

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