33
C holula is unhappy. She does what I ask of her at training but with more frequent evil glares than usual. She weaves through the cones and then looks at me over her shoulder in disgust. She comes when I call but at a petulant pace that would impress no one. Look at me obeying your stupid commands , she seems to say. And I kind of agree. It does feel stupid today.
“I’m sorry Tilly isn’t here, too,” I say. “Now, let’s show this tunnel who’s boss.”
We cut our session short after ten successful tunnel runs, two of which came directly following a cone weave. She’s definitely getting better. My ugly little dog is a genius who’s going to save us all.
Diane brings me a container of chicken soup to take home to Leo, and she confirms my assessment. “I was watching from the window,” she says. “Cho is a smart dog.”
For the first time since we arrived, Cho looks alert. Sometimes she scares me a little.
It’s almost eight when I get back, so I head across the street as soon as I’ve cleaned and fed the dogs. There’s TV noise coming from Leo’s apartment, which is encouraging, but I knock hard in case he’s sleeping again. Instantly, Tilly starts whining inside, followed by a raspy voice telling her to go lie down.
“Hold on,” the voice says next.
The door opens, and there’s a disheveled Leo in pajamas and with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. When he sees me, he glances down as if to double-check he is, in fact, wearing pants. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I hold up the soup and his jacket. “I come bearing gifts. Can I come in?”
“Um…” The temperature has dropped, and a shiver rattles his shoulders. “You’re not worried about getting sick?”
“Eh.” I shrug. “It’s not like I’m going to kiss you.”
He startles, but then a first sign of life materializes. “Pity. I guess I’ll settle for your company then.” He opens the door wider and shuffles back to the couch.
Me and my brainless mouth. “So, how are you feeling?”
He runs a hand through his hair which doesn’t help one bit. “Well, let’s see. I’m going through half a box of tissues an hour and Olympic amounts of decongestant. My body aches, and my throat feels like I’ve swallowed a zester. So pretty good, I’d say.”
“At least the virus didn’t impair your sense of humor. That’s always something.” I gesture to the food. “Diane made chicken soup. Do you want me to heat some up?” Maybe the answer to moving forward is to pretend the online stuff never happened.
His stomach growls as if it’s never wanted anything more. “That would be amazing.” He pulls the blanket up to his chin. “I’ve had nothing but peanut butter for the past two days.”
I put a bowl in the microwave and glance over my shoulder while it spins. “You do look pretty terrible,” I say. “No offense.”
“None taken. All jokes aside, I don’t feel awesome either. But better now that you stopped by. How was training?”
“No one ran away.” I smile, ignoring his compliment. “Spoon?”
“Second drawer. Well, that’s a success then.”
I set the soup down on the coffee table next to him and then help myself to a portion as well.
We eat in a silence that stretches with the clang of metal against ceramic. Our eyes meet occasionally, but suddenly words seem to have escaped us both. So much for pretending.
When I can’t take it anymore, I spit out the first thing that comes to mind. “Cholula did good with the tunnel today. Cap too.”
His brow lifts, and he nods. “That’s good.” I think he’s going to leave it like that, but then he asks, “Are you having second thoughts about which one of them to show?”
I chew and swallow. “No. Cap had one of his spacey episodes afterward. Maybe he got overexcited.”
Leo finishes his soup and sets the bowl down. “If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’d worry about falling behind.” He leans back against the cushions and closes his eyes.
“You’ll catch up.”
Again the room falls quiet. Tilly is dreaming on the floor next to us, her tiny yips the only interruption to latch on to.
“Aww, so cute,” I say.
Leo turns to look and hums in agreement.
We both watch her as if she’s the most fascinating creature. A sleeping dog. Leo is not usually at a loss for words, and I keep hoping he’ll dive in and launch us out of our stalemate, but he doesn’t.
My fingertips find a loose thread at the hem of my shirt that I pull on until it frays, and when the knit threatens to unravel, I give up the wait. I reach for Leo’s bowl and bring it to the sink. “Anything else I can get you before I go? More water? Tea? Another blanket?”
He peers up at me, dark shadows marring his face. For a second, he looks as if he can’t believe I’m here. As if he doesn’t want me to go. Then he closes his eyes again. “No, I’m okay. But thank you.”
I look out the window toward Happy Paws. The store is dark, but I’ve left a light on for the dogs upstairs. That’s where I’m supposed to be, I remind myself. Preventing the man in front of me from edging me out of business. Maybe this is for the best. “Okay, well… then I’m going to head out.” I pull on my knitted cap and reach for my jacket, pausing for a moment in the middle of his room. “I’ll check in again tomorrow, but let me know if you need anything before that, okay?”
“Okay. Hey, Cora?”
I turn, my hand on the door handle. “Yeah?”
He rubs a hand across one eyebrow. Pauses. “Never mind. See you tomorrow.”
I know he’s watching me as I leave, and I feel his eyes on me as I cross the street.
I can still see him through the window when I get up to the apartment. He has his laptop open at the table, and in a flash, an idea sparks.
With shaky hands, I pull out my phone and navigate to Flockify. My last message to Al still sits unanswered, but I don’t let that stop me. Maybe SingerQueen and AlCaponesGhost25 are better communicators than Cora and Leo.
Living History Illinois Flockify DM, Wednesday 09:34 PM
SingerQueen: Can I ask you a question?
Here in the dark, I have a front row seat to him reacting to the message alert. There’s a split second where I worry he’ll read it and leave me hanging again, but this time, he responds right away.
AlCaponesGhost25: Of course, hotdog girl.
SingerQueen: We talked about that…
AlCaponesGhost25: How about hot dog girl? *winky face emoji*
SingerQueen: Aren’t you supposed to be sick?
AlCaponesGhost25: Just had an invigorating visit… What’s your question?
SingerQueen: Were you telling the truth about when you realized this was me?
AlCaponesGhost25: Yes.
SingerQueen: You had no idea before that?
AlCaponesGhost25: If you’re asking would I string you along and pretend to be a stranger in order to surreptitiously learn information about you, the answer is no. Would never.
SingerQueen: That’s very specific and on point. Mind reader?
AlCaponesGhost25: Not last time I checked.
SingerQueen: Phew.
AlCaponesGhost25: Can I ask you a question?
SingerQueen: Only fair.
AlCaponesGhost25: Did I ruin things by telling you?
Did he ruin… There’s a flutter at the pit of my stomach at the implication. I bite my lip before I let my thumbs touch the screen.
SingerQueen: I hope not.