said.
“Yeah? Too bad.”
I tossed his sweatshirt across his lap. He stood when I did. He looked at me with those dark, intense eyes. “Hey, you can share my log anytime,” he said.
“Great,” I said. I don’t know. The way he looked—he seemed as dangerous to me as that ocean then, with its tides and undercurrents. With its wide possibilities, stretching to other unknown continents.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay,” I said back.
I turned to head home. But Ash called out.
“Hey, Cricket Girl,” he said.
“Hey, Ash Boy.”
“You seeing anyone?”
I didn’t know what to say. Janssen and I were and weren’t. We were in some relationship waiting room, with bad magazines and a clock ticking too loudly.
“I’m seeing you, right this minute,” I said.
He laughed. “All right. Gotcha. Playing it cool.”
The moon was above me on the boardwalk. Half full, but you could see its shadow half there, too dim and waiting to be revealed. I breathed in the smells of wet sand and fire cinders and sea. A deep breath. The truth was, I was mad at myself for how I was feeling. Those shoulders—those eyes … That kind of desire was disloyal. True, you wanted more from people sometimes. And sometimes, you wanted more from yourself.
The screen door of the house banged shut, and my mother came out. She wore a long, white sundress down to her ankles, a mismatched dress shirt, probably one of Dan’s, hastily thrown over the top. No shoes again. My mother and her bare feet … She was walking fast, and her hair was riding out behind her, a wave of yellow. She saw me, and held up her hand to indicate she didn’t want to talk. It was a gesture of upset I remembered from her encounters with my father. I knew the feeling—when too much had suddenly gathered before you and you needed to catch up.
I let her pass. Something was sinking in my chest. We’ve got a special size of worry for the people we love, somewhere between a mountain range and a small planet. You could wish sometimes that you were the kind of person who didn’t care. Who could see someone hurt and turn on the television or order some new shoes online, thinking only about tan or black,seven or seven and a half. But I wasn’t a person like that. I guess we’d had a lot of troubles. We saw the damage one person could do to another. You got to thinking that a person could be harmed, broken, swept out to sea.
I brushed the sand off my legs, clapped my shoes together to clean them off. Inside my room Jupiter was already asleep on her pillow. But at the sound of the door, she rose and headed for the far corner in shame. Dogs remembered their guilt, even for something they’d done hours before. I’d felt the same thing, wearing that sweatshirt. I wondered what it was. Had she chewed up something she couldn’t resist? Eaten the gum from my purse? I looked around. I saw the small puddle near the front door.
“Oh, honey, are you okay? Did that stupid Ben forget to take you out?”
I cleaned up as fast as I could so she wouldn’t feel so bad. She stayed over there in her corner in spite of my reassurances. She didn’t think she deserved forgiveness, I guess.
There was deep apology in her eyes. And although I’d seen her regret many times before, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this time it seemed different. It seemed to be an apology for something bigger, even, than any simple accident on a wood floor.
chapter
ten
Dear Janssen—
Your list made me laugh. There was that other time Jupiter was furious with us too, remember? When we tried to make her go swimming? We thought dogs loved that. We yanked and pulled her toward that water. We carried her in. She was up to her knees, frowning at us. She refused to move. I think she was mad the rest of the day.
Okay.
Things Dogs Do That Make You Think You’ve Glimpsed Their Top Secret, Hush-Hush Intelligence:
1. When you catch them watching TV
2. When they
“Yeah? Too bad.”
I tossed his sweatshirt across his lap. He stood when I did. He looked at me with those dark, intense eyes. “Hey, you can share my log anytime,” he said.
“Great,” I said. I don’t know. The way he looked—he seemed as dangerous to me as that ocean then, with its tides and undercurrents. With its wide possibilities, stretching to other unknown continents.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay,” I said back.
I turned to head home. But Ash called out.
“Hey, Cricket Girl,” he said.
“Hey, Ash Boy.”
“You seeing anyone?”
I didn’t know what to say. Janssen and I were and weren’t. We were in some relationship waiting room, with bad magazines and a clock ticking too loudly.
“I’m seeing you, right this minute,” I said.
He laughed. “All right. Gotcha. Playing it cool.”
The moon was above me on the boardwalk. Half full, but you could see its shadow half there, too dim and waiting to be revealed. I breathed in the smells of wet sand and fire cinders and sea. A deep breath. The truth was, I was mad at myself for how I was feeling. Those shoulders—those eyes … That kind of desire was disloyal. True, you wanted more from people sometimes. And sometimes, you wanted more from yourself.
The screen door of the house banged shut, and my mother came out. She wore a long, white sundress down to her ankles, a mismatched dress shirt, probably one of Dan’s, hastily thrown over the top. No shoes again. My mother and her bare feet … She was walking fast, and her hair was riding out behind her, a wave of yellow. She saw me, and held up her hand to indicate she didn’t want to talk. It was a gesture of upset I remembered from her encounters with my father. I knew the feeling—when too much had suddenly gathered before you and you needed to catch up.
I let her pass. Something was sinking in my chest. We’ve got a special size of worry for the people we love, somewhere between a mountain range and a small planet. You could wish sometimes that you were the kind of person who didn’t care. Who could see someone hurt and turn on the television or order some new shoes online, thinking only about tan or black,seven or seven and a half. But I wasn’t a person like that. I guess we’d had a lot of troubles. We saw the damage one person could do to another. You got to thinking that a person could be harmed, broken, swept out to sea.
I brushed the sand off my legs, clapped my shoes together to clean them off. Inside my room Jupiter was already asleep on her pillow. But at the sound of the door, she rose and headed for the far corner in shame. Dogs remembered their guilt, even for something they’d done hours before. I’d felt the same thing, wearing that sweatshirt. I wondered what it was. Had she chewed up something she couldn’t resist? Eaten the gum from my purse? I looked around. I saw the small puddle near the front door.
“Oh, honey, are you okay? Did that stupid Ben forget to take you out?”
I cleaned up as fast as I could so she wouldn’t feel so bad. She stayed over there in her corner in spite of my reassurances. She didn’t think she deserved forgiveness, I guess.
There was deep apology in her eyes. And although I’d seen her regret many times before, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this time it seemed different. It seemed to be an apology for something bigger, even, than any simple accident on a wood floor.
chapter
ten
Dear Janssen—
Your list made me laugh. There was that other time Jupiter was furious with us too, remember? When we tried to make her go swimming? We thought dogs loved that. We yanked and pulled her toward that water. We carried her in. She was up to her knees, frowning at us. She refused to move. I think she was mad the rest of the day.
Okay.
Things Dogs Do That Make You Think You’ve Glimpsed Their Top Secret, Hush-Hush Intelligence:
1. When you catch them watching TV
2. When they
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