25. Ambrose—present day
Ambrose—present day
S tanding in the backyard, her long legs wrapped around my waist, she stares up at me, this gangly dog who refuses me each time I try to push her down.
Her nails jab into my skin every so often, pulling me from the safe space in my mind, where I sit in a black hole with no one and nothing around.
Bubbles’ attention-seeking cries don’t make it through the dense darkness around me until her nails catch my skin again, scraping over a scar I traced a few days back and ripping it open.
I gasp with the realization that blood is on my fingers as I press the wound with a feather-soft touch and attempt to push Bubbles down again.
Her owner passed away about an hour ago, and this dog has been clingy ever since.
The woman lasted longer than the nurses thought. They predicted two days. It’s been three. Three days where I’ve avoided Dollie, who now lives solely on the lounge, surrounded by all her favorite things, making it so hard to get in and out of the house unheard. Like last night after work.
It was so much easier when she slept in the living room.
But she doesn’t stay in there alone for some reason, and Annabelle is still away.
Nyx has stopped by. He’s the one who fixed the wall, and I curse him for it because I can no longer keep a close eye on Dollie. I can only hear her singing to herself or talking to Duggan with that wall between us.
The distance should be something I worship because I’m aware of the lines I’m crossing. The ones I haven’t crossed yet, I want to, so I can be with her.
Yeah, the distance… we should have more of it.
But today, she’ll know I’m home, thanks to our new house guest.
Bubbles’ fur soothes me as nerves attempt to bubble in my stomach. Pun not intended.
The desire to retreat to my black hole is tempting. Everything ceases to exist down there—my fears, the noise in my head, it all slips away. I’d stay there forever if I could, that place where even my demons can’t find me.
A sigh of confusion lets air out from my lungs, and fog appears in front of my face, distorting the grassy field ahead.
I have no idea how to feel, lingering here now that the nurses are gone and the undertaker hasn’t arrived.
His instructions wait in the living room, along with the body for collection. They sit in a wax-sealed envelope, and another of those is clutched and crumpled tightly in my hand.
One of the nurses told me of it, sitting on the mantle after I broke free of Mrs. Bannadosi’s hand.
She’d taken her last breaths joined to me.
I didn’t want her touching me—never again after the last time, but when her brittle fingers wrapped around the burns on my wrist, I froze.
Disgust was present from the start, sending me into my hole as soon as I got out of that room.
Staring at the envelope, the rain comes from nowhere, soaking it until I hide it in my jacket’s inner pocket.
Bubbles’ legs stay locked around my waist, the awful weather not fazing her today. She’s not ready to leave my side, and I’m not ready to open the envelope.
Not ready to admit that I feel something… sadness, anger. Whatever it is, it’s stronger than ever.
I just need to get the fuck away from here.
I shouldn’t have been the one to do this. To sit with the woman in the house behind me on her dying days.
A car pulls up in the front yard driveway, ending my misery with two doors clicking shut. A quick glance around shows me the long black hood of the funeral car.
Relief washes over me as the raindrops fall onto my face, masking my tears.
As if she knows I’m leaving, and she’s coming too, Bubbles releases her tight grip, and we walk into the house together.
Time to close this chapter.
Stepping into my house, a big bag of dog food in hand, rainwater dripping from my hair and nose, I steady my breathing.
Things are still not right inside me. The need to escape is persistent.
My wet clothes stick to every muscle and bone as I struggle to slide my key into the lock and turn it.
The nerves rattling my body make it difficult to multitask. Bubbles’ leash is what I drop to the floor first before her food slides down my legs.
Rushing all over the place to collect the few that spill, she thwarts any plans I have of trying to move quietly.
I don’t want to startle Dollie more than I have to.
I don’t know how she’ll react to me being here.
“Annabelle, did you just come in?” Dollie’s voice rushes from the reading room. There’s a pause before she says anything else.
This is it.
This is when we’ll come face to face.
I have to remind myself to stay away from the black hole, as it opens up to me once more and offers safety.
I straighten the sack of dog food, guiding the obviously starving animal away because she isn’t starving in the slightest, and I stand to my full height.
Freezing on the spot, the air in my lungs stalls and stays there.
Bubbles crunches on the kibble, but it’s Dollie I listen to as she says, “No, I know. I thought maybe you got off early, but you also don’t have a key. I just—I could have sworn I heard the door.” Another pause gives me a break from the fear in her voice.
Is she worried I’m Shane or maybe another break-in?
Is that why she’s creeping through the room at the slowest pace in history?
The anticipation is killing me slowly. If I hold my breath any longer, I’ll pass out.
“I don’t need your dad, I hope. I’m probably imagining things again.”
The pitter-patter of delicate human feet picks up pace beyond the clacking of Bubbles’ nails on the wood as she prances around me.
At the sound of Dollie’s voice, our new poodle rushes into the reading room to greet her. Just as Dollie comes into view, Bubbles catches her off guard, pushing her back as she does her signature move of locking arms around Dollie’s waist.
“Oh, my! Where did you come from?” A giant smile takes over Dollie’s face, rounding her cheeks.
And for the first time in years, I smile so hard my eyes squint.
The air finally leaves my lungs. At the same time, Annabelle must ask what’s going on because Dollie announces with so much excitement, “There’s a poodle in the house!”
My eyes stay locked on her, with the phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, her hands in Bubbles’ long, white curls, and the biggest smile on her face.
She looks too much like everything I need tonight when my mind and emotions are all over the place.
There’s just something about her long socks, giant sweatshirt, lack of gloves, and no fucking ring from some other man that feels like home.
God, what I’d give to just pull her upstairs, huddle in her dome, assuming I still fit, and escape into a fictional world of an old book.
To go back in time, to a time in the story when I had her.
Because I need something other than alcohol tonight.
I need her.
She’s still my lifeline.
All the hope I feel inside me dwindles to nothing when her eyes lock on me, and her expression flattens.
Her mouth hangs open, all her excitement dropping with her phone that bounces across the floor as she straightens and steps back, her eyes trailing up the length of my body.
Heavy breaths cause her chest to lift and fall.
Slowly, I edge into the reading room, ridding the extra space she put there by taking a step back.
Bubbles rushes to me, running around my legs and leaving Dollie alone.
Visibly, she shakes in front of me, tears streaming from her eyes.
A wave of self-hatred washes over me and makes me feel impossibly worse.
Because she doesn’t want me here, her fear is because of me.
Trembling myself, I extend a hand and reach for her. My rules with touch never applied to her, and there’s a desperation inside me that pleads to let her know she has nothing to worry about.
It’s just like that night in the foyer. I try to tell her with a pleading look. You’re safe with me.
“Don’t you touch me!” She spits, falling away from me and landing on the floor.
Her attitude towards me is completely different to the night in the foyer. So, I was probably right in thinking her head portrayed me differently then.
Bending to her level, I extend a hand again, and again she refuses to take it, scooting herself back before she climbs to her feet.
Long socks drop from her knees to her ankles as she races through the room. Bubbles stays with me. Her stare, for once, has what feels like judgment.
Picking up the phone, I do it carefully, not to touch the floor, and I examine it, finding no noticeable chips or cracks.
It’s a weak attempt to dull the aching in my chest by keeping myself busy.
It fails, and I’m the reason the phone almost hits the floor for the second time when I can’t stop my hands from shaking.
Annabelle’s voice is clear with the phone in my hand, “Dollie? Dollie, what is going on? Are you okay? Do I need to call the police?”
All I can do is breathe down the line.
Needing to avoid Annabelle’s panic because my own is still running wild, I hang up the phone and send a quick text. A short explanation of what’s happened informs her that she has nothing to worry about. That I’d never hurt Dollie.
Whether she’ll believe that, I’m not entirely sure.
A single minute passes with no reply before I head into the kitchen, finding the door that leads to the bathroom closed and rattling. I know in my soul, Dollie is rocking on the other side.
Letting the table take my weight, I release a heavy breath.
Fuck, tonight couldn’t have gone worse.
Bubbles paws at the bathroom door, leaving a few scratches in the dark paint.
Fuck it.
I ignore the minor damages she’s causing and Dollie’s broken sobs so I can leave and not come back.
More aware of my limp as I try to dodge my new pet, I move to a drawer in the kitchen, the one where all the pens and loose scraps of paper have always been kept. I pull out everything I need to write Dollie a note.
I sit at the table, letting the pen glide across the paper. Mentally, it takes me back to prison. Back to all the messages I wrote to her.
She’ll probably ignore this letter, too, rip it up, and toss it in a paper graveyard.
Still, I write…
Do you like her?
Her name is Bubbles—not my choice. She’s an early birthday gift for you.
I didn’t mean to startle you when I came home.
I wasn’t expecting her to almost knock you off your feet.
I’ve actually been here the whole time you have. I was released a little while back on good behavior, and we’ve managed to live in harmony since you came home.
Can you believe I’ve managed to stay in a different room the whole time?
It’s been so hard, Dollie.
We’ve run into each other a few times. That’s been hard, too, having to walk away from you when all I want to do is stay with you until I’m sure you’re okay.
I live upstairs in my room, and I rarely come down here. But I’m here when you need me, if you ever need me.
I have a job and not much time for a dog, but this one became mine by chance today. I figured you’d like her.
She’s a bit of a nag, but she’s loving, and you deserve someone who’ll love you unconditionally. Plus, you always wanted a poodle. She can keep you company now that you spend a lot of time at home alone.
I know you hate me. The walls are surprisingly thin. The whole town does, so I don’t judge you for it. But the feeling isn’t mutual, and one day, you’ll see that everything I’ve done was in your best interests.
You have no reason to be afraid. I’d never hurt you. At my angriest, I never did. You know I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, regardless of anything that’s happened.
We don’t have to be enemies. We share a home and grief, and we both miss them, Dollie. We both hurt, and I’d like to think that, in some way, we both miss each other, too.
It’s unlikely, but if you ever want an actual human to hang out with and Annabelle isn’t around, I’m sure Bubbles will start to miss me soon.
Don’t feel you have to run. I’m heading back upstairs, and I’ll be working tonight.
Your phone is on the other side of this door with your new friend.
- A.