The Beginning of After - By Jennifer Castle Page 0,42

do that to yourself.”

Now I turned to David, a little surprised by the kindness in his tone. I turned off the car but didn’t get out. I liked having this barrier of the door between us.

David touched the frame of his sunglasses, and for a moment I thought he’d take them off, but he didn’t. I guess he liked his barrier too.

“I can’t really give you a hard time about caring for him, can I?” said David. “I’m the one who bailed on him in the first place.”

Now he did take his sunglasses off. His eyes, usually so large and bright, looked thin and dull.

“Plus, I heard you had kind of a freak-out after I left that after-prom party. That was thanks to me, right?”

I didn’t answer or even move.

“I’m sure I ruined things with your boyfriend,” he said.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I countered quickly, then added, “but yes, things got kind of ruined.”

“Not to offer excuses or anything, but I was wasted and totally sleep-deprived.”

The word excuses sounded trivial and stupid, hanging in the air between us. It didn’t seem to fit in either of our lives anymore.

Now I got out of the car, leaning against the side for support. I didn’t think I expected or even wanted a full apology from David about the prom. But as long as he was offering, it did make a difference.

If I can’t change something, I don’t waste energy on it, Nana had said.

Being angry at David for the prom, for what his father might or might not have done, took more energy than I had in the first place.

“So we’re both sorry,” I said. “Can we leave it at that?”

“Absolutely. I’m excellent at leaving things.” His mouth turned up a bit with the pun, then he looked at Masher again. “So what’s the deal? Your grandmother said he needs medication?”

“Vitamin K supplements. Twice a day for at least a month.”

David was quiet, processing that.

“I’d like to take him back with me. My cousins said it was all right.”

Then he looked at me, as if now I needed to say it was all right too. Maybe forgetting that this was actually his dog and not mine.

I thought of not having Masher around anymore, and it instantly made me ache. Another absence. I’d gotten used to the noises and the following and the watching. But I was going to be busy with my new job, and Nana would love not having “the dog” around, and I couldn’t risk another accident.

Plus, the way David watched his dog sniffing at the weeds along the road, his body hunched and needy, I knew Masher might be required somewhere else.

“He’d love it,” I finally said. “One thing, though. He has a follow-up appointment at Ashland Animal Hospital in two weeks.”

“Oh yeah, I heard you’re going to be working there?”

“It’ll get me out of the house.” I shrugged.

“Getting out of the house is good. I recommend it,” said David, and he shot an ironic glance up the hill toward his home. “I’ll bring him back for his appointment, no problem. Just send me the info. Let me give you my email.”

While David dug some kind of receipt out of his pocket, I reached into the Volvo toward the compartment between the two front seats, where my mom always kept pens and small change. I pulled out a blue pen and gave it to David. He wrote something on the paper, then handed both back to me.

He didn’t ask for my email address in return.

“You’re going home—,” he said flatly, not committing to it as a question.

We had done this. Seeing him again would somehow make it less clean. Plus, I couldn’t stand a long good-bye with Masher.

“I’m running errands, so I have to get going. Just tell Nana you need the medication. It’s all written on the label.”

“Okay,” he just said, then put his sunglasses back on and wrapped Masher’s leash in a loop around his wrist. “Mash, say good-bye to Laurel.”

Masher looked at me with surprise, and I squatted down with my arms out until he scrambled over to me. I hugged him, he licked my face. I didn’t need to say anything. Not with David there, watching.

Finally I got up and Masher went back to David.

“Come on, buddy, let’s go find that cat you love to hate,” he said.

They walked away and I got back in the car. After I was sure David couldn’t see me, I unfolded the receipt to stare at his email address,