enjoy it from the back of an SUV, coming and going from my appointments. I occasionally visit the grassy area with Dog in the early morning. But when was the last time I let the sun soak into my skin and felt the pavement under my shoes?
After my arrival, Inez insisted I crash with her until I was established in Grand Haven and found my own place. She dragged me to the beach with her a couple of times. We’d take a cooler with ice cold drinks and small snacks, tanning on the sand until our skin turned red. I only agreed to go with her because she gave me shelter and I didn’t want to be rude, but I refused once I was on my own. And after a couple of years, I forgot it was something I enjoyed.
Breathing in the open air, it’s clear that I don’t know what I enjoy at all.
Dog trots at my feet, panting with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. The occasional pedestrian smiles as we cross paths on the sidewalk, but I keep my eyes forward, enjoying the neighborhood. Entire flocks of birds fly over my head, everyone’s flower gardens have bloomed in bright reds, yellows, and greens, and the breeze off the ocean cools the sweat around my hairline.
We don’t get far before Dog’s legs tire and he decides he’s had enough, stopping without warning.
“You little dick,” I say, tripping over his leash.
He finds a shady spot under a tree, parks his ass, and refuses to budge while staring me directly in the eyes. I pull on his leash, speak in a cutesy voice so other joggers don’t think I’m an animal abusing monster, and as a last-ditch effort to get him back on four legs, I beg.
With my hands on my hips, I say, “You’re going to make me carry you back, aren’t you?”
Dog rolls onto his back and whines.
“That’s it,” I grumble, scooping Dog from the ground to hold at my side like a football. I head back in the direction we came from, considering punting him like a football, too. “I’m making those posters as soon as we get back. You’ve officially overstayed your welcome. Never in my fucking life—”
A woman pushing a stroller gives me a side-eye as we wait at a stop sign for our turn to cross the street. If this bitch isn’t careful, I’ll drop Dog into the stroller with her baby and run away. She won’t catch me, and that’ll teach her not to give strangers dirty looks.
We’re about to step onto the crosswalk when a dark four-door sedan quickly approaches the intersection with no sign of slowing down. I see the car coming in time and pull the woman back before she steps directly in front of its path. The car blows the stop sign and turns onto the main street, scarcely missing another car as it speeds away. Dog barks and thrashes until I let him go, and the woman cries out, jerking her stroller away from the crosswalk.
“Are you okay?” I ask with my heartbeat lodged in my throat.
The woman doesn’t respond. Instead, she kneels beside the stroller and checks on her sleeping baby with an expression of utter panic on her face. Thankfully, the child didn’t stir during the commotion, and the woman rests her forehead on the side of the stroller to catch her breath. “Thank God you saw that car coming.”
Dog runs after the car and I chase him down the street, catching his leash before he gets too far. His bark is so protective and vicious, I make the decision right away to scrap the Dog Found poster idea and keep him forever. He’s lazy as fuck, but he’s loyal.
I watch the black sedan disappear down the street before I lift Dog back into my arms and scratch behind his ears, hoping to ease his nerves. He licks my face but stays alert, ready to pounce if anyone threatens me again.
On the walk back to the apartment, I don’t pay attention to the birds in the sky or the color of the rosebushes. I can’t think of anything beyond the person behind the wheel of the black car.
Naomi.
Camilla’s filling the coffee maker with water when Dog and I return. Her hair is wet from a shower, soaking the back of her heather gray shirt as it drip-dries. She’s lit her candles and opened the windows to let in the sea breeze, and I’m