29. Bennett
TWENTY-NINE
BENNETT
The morning started so well but then took an unexpected turn at breakfast. I’m frustrated with how I’m feeling, and I’m not entirely sure how to deal with that. I am not a passive-aggressive or possessive person, but something about the way she so easily talked about leaving made something inside me snap. Karl and Sophie both assured me that I hadn’t lost it, that they can see we aren’t just two people sharing a house for a few days.
“It takes some people years to admit how they feel about another person,” Karl had said, his hands deep in soapy dishwater. “Meanwhile, others see one another across a room and know instantly. That’s half the fun about human connection—there are absolutely no rules.”
“Well, there are norms,” Sophie had piped in then. “Let’s use you and Marley as an example.”
“Must we?” I’d huffed, crossing my arms and leaning against the island.
“It seems the most relevant to the situation. Now, you found each other in less-than-ideal circumstances. You became her caretaker immediately, and she depended on you. That could very well build a false sense of comfort and attraction.” She thought for a minute. “Like, hero worship. Then there’s you. This guy who lives his life to rescue dogs and provide a better life for them.”
“Are you saying our attraction is based on a hero-worship dynamic?”
“In a way, but hear me out. I don’t actually think that’s what’s happening here. I know you. You’re just a good, helpful guy. You don’t get off on helping.”
“That’s true,” Karl said while drying his hands. “I’ve never thought, ‘He’s enjoying this a bit too much’ when you’ve helped out, if you know what I mean.”
Sophie rolled her eyes at her dad and continued. “And Marley definitely doesn’t strike me as someone who enjoys being rescued or even taken care of. She’s fiercely independent, and I’d actually wager that admitting she needed help was a big deal for her.”
She’d make a killing on that wager. “What’s your point, Soph?”
“My point is, I think you two would have ended up feeling the exact same way if you’d run into each other at the grocery store, or made eye contact across a room.”
“You’re talking about fate,” I’d replied, letting my skepticism really shine.
“Fate, or more like a natural compatibility. If you’d met at a party, you’d eventually get to the point you are now, sharing looks and oozing sexual tension. You just got there faster because you’ve spent 24/7 with each other.”
Karl had nodded sagely throughout the entire conversation and eventually voiced his agreement with his “brilliant and favorite daughter. ”
“She’s your only daughter, Karl.”
“That we know of,” he replied, earning a sigh from the daughter in question.
I’d spent the walk back replaying the conversation over in my mind and trying to decide if it was something worth bringing up to Marley. Four days felt like a lifetime somehow and yet too short. I wasn’t ready for her to leave, but I also wasn’t about to insist that she stay. I didn’t want to tie her down or make her think that staying was the only way we could try to make a go of it. No matter how we felt, there would always be that voice saying everything happened too fast, and I had a feeling that would eat away at both of us.
I’m also mature enough to admit that I’m worried that what I feel is one-sided. Not that she’s done anything to make me think that. I can’t even decide if it would be better if she didn’t feel the same or did but was unwilling to stick it out. What I do know is that having Marley here has reminded me what it’s like to not be alone all the time. And as much as I hate being left behind, I’m starting to realize it’s perhaps better to have something for a short time than never at all. I pull my phone out to text Sophie.
I think I need to hire some help.
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Sophie
YES! How much help?
Full-time? Part-time?
Qualifications? Wage ?
Her questions keep coming, and I do my best to come up with things that will hopefully bring in some decent applicants.
Once she’s given me the thumbs-up, I deal with a request for help with a litter of Dalmatian cross puppies that I make arrangements to pick up tomorrow evening. Marley will be long gone by then, and it’ll give me something else to focus on, some other rescue mission. Maybe I just get attached to the living things I bring home, and maybe I should talk to someone about that. In the middle of updating my calendar, it hits me that I only have a bit more guaranteed time with Marley, and I’m spending it locked in my office sulking. I roll my neck, power down my computer, and march myself outside, hoping she’s easy to find.
As it turns out, finding her takes absolutely no effort on my part. She’s lying in the field, surrounded by the dogs. I instantly feel some of the tension leave my body. Compared to the first time I found her surrounded by them, this is a total 180. Everyone is asleep, including Marley, under the perfect October sky. I feel kind of bad waking her up, but then we get talking and I’m glad I had. I want to soak up every moment I can before she walks out of my life. When she asks if she can see my office, I can’t tell her that it’s the one place I don’t have a memory of her in. I don’t think I can tell her I need to have that space stay a Marley-free zone because it’s where I need to focus on other things. But I don’t, and of course after the words are out of my mouth I feel like I’ve moved us back ten steps.
I end up lying back and closing my eyes. I hear her follow suit shortly after, and then I feel her fingertips brush my hand. I’ve always thought the spark people talk about was bullshit, but I’ve felt it since the day I found her. The fact she nearly jumped out of her skin makes me think she felt it too. It’s probably some kind of sensory anticipation thing, completely explained by science, but I hold onto hope that our upcoming goodbye is more of a “see you soon.” I find myself hoping she treats my hope the same way she gives to those she photographs.