August 26, Wednesday
JOSH APPEARED on the screen with Tucker's head resting heavily in his lap, one hand absently scratching behind the dog's ears in a rhythm that seemed to be soothing him more than the dog.
"Hey, bud. Where's your sister?"
"With Scott." He shrugged. "I don't know the details. She doesn't tell me stuff."
"How's school going?"
"Classes suck." He said it flatly, without much heat behind it, the exhaustion of the statement more notable than any real complaint. "Teachers suck too. Everything's just—" He trailed off, staring at some point below the camera. "I don't know. I've been thinking about quitting soccer."
"Josh, you love soccer."
"I used to." Another shrug, smaller this time. "It doesn't feel like it matters much right now."
"Of course it does. I think you'd regret it if you quit. Maybe not right away, but later."
"Mom, when are you coming home?"
"As soon as my service is done, sweetheart."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
He didn't respond to that, just kept scratching behind Tucker's ears, and I pressed forward gently. "Hang in there, okay? Keep your grades up. And don't make any rash decisions about soccer. You've worked hard for that spot."
"Maybe," he said, unconvinced, and then, almost as an afterthought, added, "Heidi picked me up from practice Tuesday."
Something in my chest tightened.
"Someone asked if she was my mom." His voice stayed even, but something underneath it had gone thin. "I just said no."
I swallowed hard. "That must have felt strange."
He didn't answer, just kept petting Tucker, who'd lifted his head slightly, tail giving one slow thump against the couch cushion.
"Are you taking good care of him?" I asked, gesturing toward the dog, grateful for anywhere else to point the conversation.
"Yeah. I am." Tucker barked once, a small affirming punctuation, and for a second Josh almost smiled.
Then, without warning, his face crumpled entirely, and he stood up so fast the camera caught only a blur of motion before he walked out of frame. Tucker scrambled after him, then I heard the sound of a door slamming.
I sat there, staring at an empty section of our living room, the same couch, the same window, nobody in it now. Then Tucker, who'd apparently given up the chase, returned to sit directly in front of the laptop, panting, unaware of the small disaster that had just occurred.
"Hey, Tucker," I said, my voice cracking slightly on his name.
He tilted his head at the sound of it, ears pricking, and I found myself talking to my dog for the last ninety seconds of my allotted time, saying nothing important, just his name, just good boy. Then even he left.
Deputy Wells signaled from the doorway that my time was up. I closed the laptop on an empty living room.