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“Do you think I’ll have a ticket?” Mae and Calvin are driving to pick up Mae’s car. It’s nine o’clock in the morning. Calvin
But not exactly like a preteen, because she has a solid hangover, respectable but manageable. She’d woken up at seven in Jordan’s
bed with no Jordan. When she’d taken Leo for his morning training Jordan was fast asleep on one of the patio loungers. Mae
laid another blanket on top of her and kept Leo from sniffing her. She took him to the far end of the beach, videoed him coming
back to her five times in a row as she’d backed up a little farther each time. The long leash was there, but she’d never needed
to reach for it. Leo’s recall is really improving. By the time she’d returned, the household was waking up.
“Sorry?” says Calvin. “Did you ask if I think you have rickets?”
Oh my god, thinks Mae, is he losing his hearing? But she glances at him and sees the smile playing at his mouth. She rolls her eyes, but she laughs a little bit too. “Is
it actually illegal to park overnight in Portsmouth?”
“I don’t know,” Calvin muses. “I’ve never tried it. But if you do, it won’t be much. They wouldn’t tow.”
Mae hadn’t even thought about the possibility of an expensive tow.
She pretends that her father’s answer is a soothing one.
She doesn’t want to tell Calvin that anything, anything at all, would be too much for her right now.
The constant worry about a place to live is a little knot that will never loosen.
She felt better in the middle of the night, after she told her sisters, but then it tightened right up again—because they were concerned, and they listened, but listening and concern do not equal a solution.
They pass a sign for Petey’s and Calvin says, “It’s been ages since I was at Petey’s. Remember how often we used to go?”
“Of course,” says Mae. “Cups of chowda all around.”
They turn inland and continue on, passing a cemetery, a playground, an auto center. Her phone buzzes with a text. She looks
surreptitiously and sees that it’s from Human Leo. It’s long! She’s dying to know what he thinks of all the videos she’s been
sending, but she doesn’t want to be rude to her father. Is Human Leo impressed? Disappointed? Does he think that the board-and-train
has been a good investment? Does he regret letting Mae take Leo so far away? Her fingers are itching to tap the screen and
read the text, but her dad is asking her a question.
“So you three had fun last night?”
“Sure,” she says. Then, because her voice quavered a little, sounding uncertain, and she thought that would make him sad,
“Definitely.”
“Natalie seemed a little—subdued this morning. If that’s the word.”
Mae laughs. “That’s a word.”
“What’s another word?”
“Hungover.”
“Ah.”
“Natalie doesn’t get out much. I think it was good for her.” Then: “I told them I was at the wedding.”
Calvin glances at her. “I thought you didn’t want them to know.”
“I didn’t, and then I did. Well, I didn’t, and then I still didn’t and then I sort of accidentally told them anyway.”
A deep sigh issues from the driver’s seat. “Ho, boy. How’d they take it?” They turn onto State Street.
“Not well,” says Mae. She reflects on this, and then adds, “Not well at all.”
“I’m sorry, Mae.” Mae looks over and sees his worried-dad face. It’s the face of a man who would rebuy the ice cream that
slipped off a daughter’s cone (a cliché, but it happened to Mae more times than it should have); a man who practiced parallel
parking with Natalie fourteen days in a row so she could (finally) pass her driver’s test; a man who barely left his wife’s
side to go to the bathroom or eat when she was dying. A man who wants everything to be okay for everyone, always.
“It’s okay. They have to deal in their own way. I think it’s all right now. And even if it’s not, I’m an adult now. I can
make my own decisions.”
“Even if you’re the baby.” He’s smiling for real now.
“Even if I’m the baby. I’m an actual live adult baby.” Calvin laughs, and Mae realizes it’s good to hear him laugh, because
he’s been doing his best this week, but she hasn’t really heard him laugh, not the way he used to when Theresa was alive. They’re on Congress Street now, pulling up behind Mae’s car, and sure enough, an orange ticket is blazing on the windshield.
“Oh, noooo,” moans Mae. She hops out of the car and grabs the ticket. Thirty-five dollars. The time on the ticket is 9:21.
She looks at the sign, then back at the ticket. “I didn’t even get this for parking overnight! It’s just from not paying at
nine a.m.!” She could cry. But hadn’t Jordan said she would pay if Mae got a ticket?
Then her dad is beside her, out of his car, and he’s taking the ticket from her, folding it, putting it in his pocket. “Dad,
no,” says Mae, without much conviction. “I’m a baby adult, remember? I can pay that.”
“This one’s on me,” he says. “Belated Fourth of July gift.”
She can feel how gigantic her smile is. “I mean, I was going to say, I hope Dad gets me something really good for the Fourth
this year.”
Calvin has a funny look on his face.
“What?” she asks.
“What what?”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your smile,” says Calvin. “You look exactly like her right now.”
She feels something inside her open and turn toward the sun. “I do?”
“You do. Your smile is full of light just like hers was.”
“It is?” Their mom had the best smile.
“Don’t lose that, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Listen, Mae? I wanted to talk about the house, to explain—”
She feels her smile fall away. “Dad. Thank you for the ride and everything. But I don’t want to talk about the house. When
I think about someone else buying it, that’s bad enough, strangers living in Mom’s house. But when I think of it not even
existing anymore . . .” Her voice trails off. She’s too sad to be angry. “I can’t.”
He looks at her for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Noted,” he says. “I seem to get that response from everyone. But at
some point, we should all talk about it.” He taps twice on the hood of her car with his knuckles and returns to his own car
without looking back. Mae wants to call to him to turn around; she wants to say let’s talk about her smile some more! But the moment is gone. It’s amazing how quickly you can change the mood of someone you love. The power we have over other
people’s emotions is formidable.
Mae texts Jordan: You should take Dad to Petey’s.
Immediately the reply comes: Why me?
I think he’d like to go with you.
Before she starts driving, she reads the text from Human Leo. Human Leo has loved seeing all of the videos Mae made. The transformation
Leo has undergone has been truly amazing. But he has decided he won’t be able to have a dog after all. He got an offer to
move out of the country for work. The job is in Dubai! He’s always, always wanted to live in Dubai. It’s a dream come true,
really. Of course he’ll still pay for the board-and-train! But he will no longer be able to be Leo’s owner. Should he contact
the shelter to initiate a return, or is there any chance Mae wants to keep Leo? They seem to have developed a real bond!
On Dog Leo’s behalf Mae is both sad and irate. Initiate a return? Leo is not an purchase! Human Leo can’t drop him off to be scanned at the closest UPS Store!
Mae’s fingers hover over her phone screen. She’s not sure what to say.
She thinks about Leo’s big square head, and the way he looks like he’s smiling when he’s panting really intensely. She thinks
about how hard he tries in his training sessions, and how much of his inauspicious beginning he’s already overcome. Does she
want to keep Leo? Yes. No question. But she can’t afford him. There would be food bills and vaccinations, chew toys and treats
and poop bags and license fees. Never mind the cost of an apartment that would allow her to keep a dog. It’s bad enough to
live out of your car; forcing a dog to live out of your car with you is a bridge too far.
Oh, Leo, she thinks. I don’t want the world to fail you again. But how can she stop it from doing so? She eases her car onto
the road and points herself toward home.
While Calvin and Mae go to get Mae’s car Natalie checks the weather on her phone.
Sunny in the morning, clouds rolling in in the afternoon.
Rain tomorrow! Did they know this? They have had such a perfect string of days so far that they all imagined it would go on like this forever, but they are, after all, in New England, where all good weather must come to an end.
Nikoletta has left them a punch list of tasks to complete prior to the open house. The dogs have made a mess of the stair
risers, so those will need a good scrub. The bookcases have somehow cluttered themselves since the photos for the listing
were taken. They need to clear the kitchen countertops of extra appliances, fill the paper towel roll, put out fresh kitchen
towels. But these things can’t really be done until Saturday; if begun too early, they’ll only need to be redone.
Natalie’s head is pounding and her eyes are scratchy from lack of sleep. She downs four Advil and finds her middle child in
the living room, lying on the couch in her nightgown.
“Are you ill?” asks Natalie. “Are you dying of consumption?”
Caspian pats his sister on the leg and says, “Lett.”
“I don’t think so,” says Scarlett, but she sounds uncertain. “What’s consumption?”
“Doesn’t matter,” says Natalie. “I don’t think you have it. Move over a smidge.” She sits next to Scarlett.
“What are we doing today, Ma?” Scarlett asks, suddenly cured, sitting up expectantly. She has recently taken to calling Natalie
Ma because Natalie has been reading the Little House books to the girls. Natalie doesn’t care for being called Ma, but she really loves the books. She believes she would have
made a fantastic frontierswoman.
“What are we doing?” repeats Natalie, stalling for time. She’s too tired to think. “We can do something fun in the morning,” she says,