Circling the Drain by Amanda Davis

eyes.
    Uh-huh , I said, and shoved my hands deeper in my pockets. Everything in me was stretched thin and tight. I tilted my head and took it all in: his crooked goatee, his disheveled hair, the way his eyes were bleary and sad.
    I want you home, Dingo , I said, and rocked back and forth on the heels of my boots.
    You want me home …he echoed, and we stayed like that for a minute, just watching each other.
    Then I sat down next to him on the bench, took his hands in mine and leaned in close. Do you love me?
    Yes , he said, but slipped out of my grip and drank from his beer again.
    Still, I felt a little better. Okay, I said. Okay .
    What do you mean okay? He was suddenly sober and serious. You said awful things to me, Charity .
    I know .
    Dingo shook his head and laughed a little, a sad short laugh. The bar was noisy, full of talking and music. I leaned my head back against the wall.
    Dingo smelled like shoe polish and beer. I wanted to burymy face in his plaid shirt but I didn’t. I rubbed at the knee of my jeans and watched a cowboy sink two perfect shots in a row. I stared at the scuffed gray floor, then closed my eyes.
    I love you , I whispered. I just can’t stand you playing around .
    I wasn’t cheating , he said. I told you, I’ll tell you again, I didn’t cheat .
    The music leapt and twirled. I could see each individual note in my head, stomping and spinning all around the people in the bar, flying through the air, over things and under them like balls of light. Each note swooped and dipped, came together and fell apart.
    How come it took you so long to come after me? he asked. How come, Charity? You know if you’d walked out on me I’d have come after you right away. I’d have followed you and dragged you back. That’s how I love you , he said. He rubbed at his empty green beer bottle and put it down by his feet.
    But you love from far away. Like it’s a prize you’re handing out piece by piece. Like maybe I’ll earn it and maybe I won’t. He exhaled. I really don’t know, Charity .
    I said some awful things , I told Dingo. My voice was thick and scratchy.
    Maybe it’s not the right love we have , he said. Maybe you’re waiting around to see what I’ll turn out to be, but this is who I am, Charity .
    Across the room the cowboy leaned down to give his girl a kiss. Nine in the corner off the six , I heard him call. The room echoed strangely. The cowboy sank another flawless shot.
    I don’t know what to do here , I told Dingo. Can’t we rewind everything a little and start over?
    No , he said, no .
    But he took my hand and squeezed it.
    I turned and hugged him, pressed my face into the smooth curve of his neck and plaid-shirted shoulder. Come home , I said, and held myself perfectly still. Take me home, Dingo .
    He didn’t move.
    Charity , he said quietly. He looked tired. Honey, I don’t know either .
    And I was afraid because I saw then that we were one big puzzle, all messed up.
    Let’s have a beer , he said, and smiled. He stood up unsteadily and squinted at me. Maybe we should throw a game of darts to sort things out , he said. You wait there, I’ll be right back .
    I’ll come , I said, and followed.
    7. Finally
    Later I told him everything and it didn’t make a lick of difference. The moon still rose in its bright round shell and we still had worries. It still bothered me when he stayed out late and I still wondered where he went sometimes. But we commenced to let Dog sleep inside and I took comfort in both their breathing in the dark.
    Karla had the baby and stopped visiting the lanes. I came and saw her, Annabelle, all dressed up in pink and helpless, her proud parents crouching by her side like she was all the world contained.
    And then I woke one night. Beside me Dingo dreamed, and outside everything was still. I heard nothing, not a cricket, not an owl, not even a late-night driver headed home. I climbed out