While I'm Falling - By Laura Moriarty Page 0,30

fingertips against cotton twill. She’d quickly gotten overwhelmed by the selection, and also the massiveness of the decision. In those first few months, she was still so raw, and so unsure of herself. After the divorce, such a big failure, she just didn’t want to make a bad choice.

So she’d waited too long on the couch. Now, even if she found one she liked, she wouldn’t be able buy it.

She’d started to make new friends, other substitute teachers and sales associates at DeBeck’s. When they stopped by, they teased her about not having a couch. “You’re waiting for Prince Charming to bring his own sectional?” Maxine had asked. “I don’t know. As cute as you are, it’s a tough market, honey. You may want to break down and get your own.” Natalie laughed, politely, and blamed Bowzer, though it wasn’t as if he peed in the house all the time. He was still a proud dog, full of dignity, waiting by the door when he needed a walk. But still, with a couch, once would be enough.

Bowzer was beside her now, lying on his side, one ear flat against the beige carpet. She scratched the back of his head and looked up at the television. A man pointed at map of Kansas City, the word “ICE” spelled out in all caps, the letters themselves appearing frozen, hovering in the foreground. A crawler at the bottom of the screen warned of freezing rain coming earlier than expected, just before early morning rush hour. “…treacherous sidewalks, downed power lines, a good day to stay home if at all possible…” Natalie frowned, looking out the dark windows. Tomorrow was Friday, a big day for teachers calling in sick. She would probably get a call for a job in the morning. Beside her, Bowzer started to tremble so violently that the tags of his collar jingled. Chasing rabbits, Dan had called it. Maybe mild strokes, said the vet.

She waited until he calmed, and then moved her hand over his head, her fingernails gently working through his soft fur. She’d known, when she signed the lease, that the complex did not allow pets. She had not thought Bowzer would still be with her. She had planned to take him to the vet as soon as the house sold. They would give him the shot. It would be a clean end, Maxine had advised, humane. Dogs were physical creatures; they didn’t live in their minds, but in their bodies; and we weren’t doing them any favors when we kept them around long after the fun was gone. “Kind of like husbands,” she’d added, laughing, but then grew serious again. She said Natalie needed to start thinking about herself. She knew what she was talking about. She had been through a divorce herself. And Natalie was still young. She still had so much potential.

Natalie said she didn’t feel young. Maxine had waved her off.

“Trust me,” she’d said. “You’ll be surprised how young forty-nine seems once you’re sixty-seven.”

It was a nice thing to say, but something about this had gotten to her. Maybe it was that forty-nine did not seem so far away from sixty-seven, especially when she considered that she and Dan had raided his retirement account during those last, expensive years. She looked away from Maxine, at her own short nails, and tried to think of something else. But she could feel the tears welling. She bit her lip. She hated that she was a crier. They were on break, sitting on a table in the windowless back room of DeBeck’s, their mocha smoothies already finished. Natalie had to be back on the floor in five minutes. She would refold scarves. She would verify credit cards. She would smile and say, “Can I help you find anything?” to teenage girls in designer jeans who would look through her as if she weren’t there.

“Okay, then.” With that, Maxine scooted herself off the break room’s table and back into her high heels. “Be smart. Look out for you. You wanted an apartment with good security and a month-to-month lease? And miracles of miracles, you found one? You need to take it. Honey. Listen to me. You’re hanging onto the dog because you’re hanging onto the past. This is a big time for you, a crucial time. The dog, Methuselah, he has to go.”

She knew Maxine was right. Yes. That was what had to be done. And really, how had she ended up with the dog anyway? Veronica was

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