with the same person for fifteen years was that one learned the other’s habits, the things they’d likely do as a matter of course. He would bet more than he’d lost at the game last night that the door to the master bedroom was closed. Janet didn’t let the dog in that room, and that would not have changed with CJ’s absence.
CJ left the driveway and crossed the lawn in front of the house. He wasn’t worried about being seen; the many trees hid the house from the neighbors, and the road was quiet. The master bedroom was on the opposite side of the house, and the bay window opened up onto several Bradford pears. When he got there, he saw the blinds were down, which kept him from seeing inside. This didn’t matter, since he’d be inside soon.
He turned his face away when he swung the tire iron, and right before it connected with the glass, he thought to wonder if Janet had installed an alarm system during the last few weeks. But when the glass shattered, there was no electronic screeching. CJ breathed a relieved sigh.
He could hear Thor on the other side of the bedroom door, barking menacingly and scratching at the carpet as if he could dig beneath the barrier. CJ used the tire iron to poke away the jagged protrusions along the bottom edge of the window before reaching his hand through and feeling for the latch. Once he’d raised it enough so he could slip inside, he hoisted himself onto the ledge, careful to feel for glass before trusting his full weight to his hands. The ground sloped down from east to west, and the window was higher here than it would have been on the other side of the house, which meant he had to pull himself up farther. It took two attempts, his feet searching for leverage against the brick, before he could pull himself through the window. He was careful to lead with his foot, even though that meant some minor contortions in order to bring his leg through while he stayed on the window ledge. But it was energy well spent when he heard the sound of glass crunching under his tennis shoes as he stepped down and pushed the blinds aside.
Thoreau continued to bark with fury on the other side of the door. CJ quickly crossed the room, but before opening the door he called out in an authoritative voice, “Thor, cut that out.”
The effect on the dog was immediate. He stopped barking, and only then did CJ open the door. The speed at which the dog entered, and the fact that Labs are well-muscled dogs, meant that Thoreau nearly succeeded in injuring CJ due simply to his exuberance. CJ got down on the floor with the animal, both because he was equally glad to see him and so the dog wouldn’t knock him over.
“How’s she been treating you, pal?” he asked.
He knew Janet would have been treating him just fine. While Thor was plainly CJ’s dog, she was fond of him in her own way.
Once Thoreau had calmed down, CJ ushered him out of the room and closed the door. It wouldn’t have done to have Thor exploring the room with glass littering the carpet.
Now that he was inside, CJ was slowed by the strange sensation of being in a place that he knew like the back of his hand, yet now he was an intruder. Legally, he doubted she had a leg to stand on. There was no court order banishing him from the place; he had as much right to be here as did she. But he also knew that all it took was one 9-1-1 call and a domestic violence charge, and he would be banned from the premises anyway. That thought set him into motion. He was confident that Janet wouldn’t make an appearance for a while yet—when she believed he would have given up and left. Even then, she would probably drive slowly past the house and, seeing his car, continue on, never noticing the broken window, assuming he was exercising a stubbornness equal to her own.
The first thing CJ did was check the refrigerator. Slim pickings. Milk, an almost empty half gallon of orange juice, a half pound of deli meat of some kind, and a few beers that were, aside from the three cardboard boxes filled with books that he could see by the side door, the last indicators that he