Arrogant Devil(48)

He licks my hand.

“Oh, you think he has a softer side too? Maybe. Edith seems to think there’s still some love left in him, but I’m not so sure. I wonder if he ate those cookies or if he just tossed them out the window as soon as I left the room.” He doesn’t say anything and I feel like a jerk. “Oh I’m sorry, Alfred! I just realized I didn’t give you any. How rude of me to bring it up.”

He forgives me because he’s a dog and he doesn’t speak English. Also, I think he’s my best friend.

We keep swimming and I lose track of time. My fingers turn into prunes. I’m starting to feel the temperature of the water again and I’m pretty sure my lips are purple by this point, but I can’t get out yet. All this alone time has given me the chance to reflect on how far I’ve come, how much I’ve accomplished since that cab driver kicked me out in the middle of nowhere. Additionally, I’m inspired by my progress with Alfred, how far I’ve been able to get out of my comfort zone. With that in mind, I have a mission before we head back to the house: test out that rope swing.

“Alfred, if I die, you can have all the money in my checking account.”



17



Jack



Meredith has done a complete about-face in recent days. Ever since Sunday morning, when she told me—with splotchy cheeks and puffy eyes—to not bother fixing up the shack, she’s been hardly recognizable. It’s like she’s walking on eggshells around me, and if possible, I find it more annoying than when she was giving me hell. I don’t have a problem with being nice; I have a problem with people being fake nice. I can tell she’s keeping herself restrained. When I snapped at her for color-coordinating my closet, I could see the shackled passion behind her eyes. I think she wanted to tell me to eat shit, but she just smiled and cowed.

Something isn’t right.

Edith swears she hasn’t noticed the change, but then again, I can’t really trust Edith when it comes to Meredith. She’s been on her side from the beginning.

This morning, she told me to go easier on her.

“She’s a nice girl,” she said in Meredith’s defense. “One who, for reasons beyond my comprehension, puts up with you.”

“Yeah, well it seems everyone’s seen Meredith’s ‘nice girl’ side but me.”

“A mean dog doesn’t ever see a cat purring. You make her hackles go up. You’ve been nothing short of cruel since she first arrived.”

Maybe that’s why Meredith has changed her attitude around me. Maybe she agrees with Edith about how I’ve been acting and she’s sick of me losing my temper with her.

Who cares? I remind myself I don’t have time to worry about Meredith or her opinion of me.

After I wrap up work for the day, I go looking for Alfred. It’s been a few days since I’ve played fetch with him. Normally he hangs around me all day, but he’s been noticeably absent lately.

I don’t find him around the farmhouse, and when I ask Edith, she says the last time she saw him he was heading down to the creek.

Odd.

He’s never wandered down that far without me. Our property is huge, but he prefers to stick close to the house, which is convenient for me because then I don’t have to chase him down at the end of the day.

I set off down the trail, appreciating the solitude. I haven’t gone down this way in a while. When I was a kid, I lived at the creek in the summer. My friends and I would fill our inner tubes and hike over to the top of the property so we could catch the current and float all the way back down. For my twelfth birthday, my dad installed a rope swing on one of the oak trees and I spent months doing fool-ass backflips to impress the Carrie Suthers. My efforts weren’t in vain—she let me kiss her at the end of summer, right on the edge of the bank.

I’m smiling, thinking about that summer, when I stumble upon a pile of clothes stowed on the path just up ahead. I don’t hear any voices, but Alfred’s definitely down here swimming with someone, and from the look of the jean shorts, it’s Meredith.

I continue down the path, hear a small splash, and spot Alfred swimming in a circle in the creek, barking and whining with worry. There’s no Meredith in sight, but then a few seconds later, she breaks the surface of the water with a wild laugh.

“There!” she declares proudly, wiping her dark hair away from her face. “Did you time me like I asked you to? I counted to 35 Mississippi, which is like four minutes in dog time!”

Alfred barks right in her face, obviously glad to see she wasn’t drowning like he thought she was, and she doesn’t even flinch like I expect her to.

“Okay, well then,” she continues, “you’ll just have to take my word that I just set a world record.”

When I take a step toward the creek, a stick crunches underneath my shoe. Alfred’s ears perk up as he turns, spots me, and a second later, he’s bounding out of the water to say hello.

Of course, he stops a foot in front of me and shakes like crazy, covering me with water. I hold out my hands, but it’s no use.

“All right, all right! You got me!” I crouch down and pet him while he pants. He’s breathing hard and his barrel chest is heaving, which means they’ve probably been swimming for a while.

“Okay, you’ve had your look! You can go now!”