I smile at that, happy with any and all good words that are put in with Parker for me. We’ve been doing remarkably well together, and the therapist has provided several gentle warnings about the timeline of Parker’s grief. I don’t want to rush him, and I definitely don’t want him to think I’m trying to replace his parents. His dad. But I also can’t help the fact that I desperately crave what he’s so casually giving a stranger.
“Yeah,” Parker agrees with Anthony before once more remembering the real reason he’s here. “You guys have a puppy, right?”
Nico chuckles softly. “Yes. Drou. I’ll go get him out,” he tells Parker. Minutes after he leaves the kitchen, there’s the frantic click of nails on the hardwood and a whine. Anthony glances over at the doorway, smiling. Nico walks back in with a red puppy on a leash, and Parker’s face breaks into the biggest smile I’ve seen from him in weeks. The dog, lanky and thin as though midway through a growth spurt, wiggles his entire body like his tail is a joystick.
“Oh wow,” Parker says on an exhale, and takes a step forward. He looks up at me and I raise my eyebrows at him. He adds, “Can I pet him? Please?”
“Of course,” Nico says, and can barely get the words out before Parker is hitting his knees and reaching for the dog. I catch Nico’s eye.
“Is it really okay if he…?” I trail off, unsure of what the hard rules are concerning the dog. Nico had told me they’re planning on having the puppy trained. Knowing about his eyesight, I’m wondering if “being trained” means he’s a service dog. Aren’t people supposed tonotpet those dogs?
“Oh, he’s fine,” Nico says, bending down to hand the leash off to Parker before stepping away. “Drou’s not quite old enough for training yet, and I won’t need him as a full seeing-eye dog anyway. More just…very well behaved.”
I nod. He seems pretty calm for a puppy to me, and apparently doesn’t mind the way Parker is running his hands all over him and squishing his face. As I watch, he vigorously licks Parker’s arms, making him laugh. The leash is already forgotten, sitting discarded on the floor. Thinking that there’s probably a good reason for the puppy not to be running amok in the house, I bend down and grab it.
“Let me see your arm, Parks.” Obediently, he holds it out and I loop the leash over his wrist, keeping my voice low as I talk to him. “Keep hold of that okay, bud? I don’t think the puppy is supposed to run around in here.”
He nods, probably realizing that if he doesn’t follow the rules, the puppy privileges will be revoked.
“Okay,” he agrees. “I will.”
“So,” Anthony Lawson cuts in, spreading his arms wide to encompass the counter like a game-show host. “We’ve got chicken and steak to grill, tons of veggies because those are Parker’s favorite.”
Parker laughs, and an intense feeling of gratefulness surges through me. Nico had told me Anthony loves kids, and clearly that’s true. We’ve been here less than fifteen minutes, and he’s already ranking higher than me on the list of Parker’s favorite people.
“But we also have some potato salad, a…bean-looking thing. Not really sure what that one is, actually,” he continues, squinting at a large, oval Tupperware that does appear to be full of beans. “Homemade salsa and guacamole, mild, because Nico is allergic to flavor.”
“Says the man born in the Midwest,” Nico mumbles, approaching the counter.
“With ice cream and pie for dessert,” Anthony finishes, dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiles at me. “Two types of pie, and apparently one of them is chocolate.”
“Chocolatepie?” Parker chimes in, now seated cross-legged on the floor with Drou fully in his lap, tongue hanging happily out of his mouth at the undivided attention.
“That’s what the chef told me,” Anthony confirms. He looks at me. “I told Corwin we had a younger dinner guest, and he thought chocolate might go over better than cherry.”
“He was probably right,” I agree. “Thank you, this is…this is a lot. You could have just ordered a pizza.”
“No, no, it’s fine. We never have new people over, so we had to pull out all the stops. And by ‘we,’ I obviously mean Cor, because I didn’t make a single bit of this.”
Nico snorts. “Do you want to eat outside? If you wanted, Parker, you could throw the ball for Drou or run around with him. He loves to play, and you can take him off the leash outside.”
“Really? Yes!” Parker agrees vehemently, gently extracting himself from the dog and scrambling to his feet. The leash slides up and down his skinny forearm. Drou yips and wags his tail so hard he tilts to the side, picking up on the excitement. “I love it here, this is so great.”
After grabbing our shoes, Nico walks to the back door and the puppy follows, tugging Parker along by the leash.He’s a beautiful dog, with a deep, shiny red coat and light eyes. His coloring is remarkably similar to Jack’s—hair a rare, stunning crimson, and eyes a lovely tawny color. As cute as the puppy is, though, I do think Jack pulls off the look better.
“How old is he?” I ask Nico as he hands the tennis ball off to Parker, and stands back to let dog and boy run outside. “Parker, mate, make sure you stay where we can see you, okay?”
There is no indication that he heard me. I look around the massive yard, noting the lack of a fence and feeling a tinge of nervousness. What if he ran off into the woods, or somehow circled to the front of the house without me seeing and got onto the road? God, what if they got hit by acar?
“We’ll sit outside,” Nico says, as though reading this from my expression. “The trees act as something of a natural barrier, and Drou will just follow Parker around. The nearest road is the one you drove in on, and it’s very private.”
“Okay, yeah, sorry. My mind is just an endless circle of bad shit that happens to children these days. He got a mozzie bite a couple weeks ago, and I spent an entire night researching the symptoms of malaria and dengue fever.” After a second, feeling like an idiot, I clarify, “Mosquito.”
Nico smiles but doesn’t laugh, putting a hand on my shoulder and squeezing gently.
“We’ll sit outside,” he repeats, and nods toward a patio table that looks like it could seat at least twenty people.
Parker’s laughter carries through the open doorway as I help Anthony and Nico bring the food outside. I offer to help with the grilling, and am promptly waved away with a pair of tongs.
