Roly laughs long and hard. “Hell, if my children are anything like me, they won’t know what to do with themselves if they have to sit for an entire movie marathon. Can you imagine? My mother would laugh her ass off, and my father would laugh so hard from heaven that it’d start raining on my house.”
I laugh along, but sweat beads up under my moustache. No need to be nervous. I mean, Roly just casually spoke about future kids like it was no big deal. The guy I thought was allergic to commitment wants the diapers-to-grandkids experience, and I might just be a little dizzy.
I’m gonna need a change of subject. “I still can’t get over this dog of yours.”
Roly shoulders my arm. “Don’t make fun of me. I saw her at a rescue event and I couldn’t help myself.”
I laugh and gesture at my ridiculousness. “Oh, I’d be the world’s most hypocritical person if I made fun of you. I’m such a dog person that, if I’m not careful, I can easily go into hoarder status.”
To be honest, I might already be there.
“Whyareyou a dog person?” Roly asks, tilting his head to the side, appearing to be genuinely interested.
Not thinking about it, I just tell the truth. “They’re literally the only thing on this planet that doesn’t judge me. And you can have a shitty day at work, then come home and a dog’ll just put you in the best mood. They’re loyal and kind. I like other animals just fine, but dogs will always be my favorite.”
Roly’s looking at me with such keen interest that I’m grateful for a beard that hides the flush. “Makes sense. I wasn’t much of a dog person until I went through that first round of trauma therapy once I was back in the States. There was this awesome therapy dog, and I just sort of commandeered him for every session I was ever in.”
That’s the second time in the space of five minutes that Roly’s just sort of offhandedly floored me. I’m surprised that he’s willing to talk about being in therapy so openly. I’d looked him up online, and there was a lot of press when he came back to the States; of the series of ambushes that had been going on, his team was one of the few who’d actually survived to talk about it. Which is weird, when you think about it. The guy who can’t fucking shut his mouth never says a word about his time in Iraq. He never talks about his service, he just flounces about, acting like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, seeming defensive.
I decide to go with honesty. “Because you act like nothing bothers you, and you’ve got limitless amounts of energy. You flit around, working in the gym and working at the pizza shop, and then you help Scout with her various causes, and Jean-Pierre with his various causes. You’re like Peter Pan, and then you just sort of casually talk about therapy dogs as though you were dealing with a spot of depression or anxiety, rather than… I don’t know, whatever it is that happened to you over there, and it’s easy to forget that whatever did happen required therapy. You just don’t seem the type.”
“What type is that?”
He asks the question with a smile on his face, but there is an uncharacteristic edge to the tone of his voice, and I realize that I may have stepped in it. “S-sorry, that totally came outwaywrong. You can be a happy person and still need therapy. In fact for you I recommend it.”
What the hell is wrong with my mouth?
That issonot what I meant.
I’m reminded of my conversation with Morris and my subsequent promise to do a better job of remembering that Roly’s fun attitude doesn’t mean he doesn’t work his ass off.
Man, epic fail on my part.
Shit. AmIthe one who’s gotten used to cuttinghimdown?
Oh,gross.
Roly smiles and rubs Sasha’s head. “Well, thanks, Dr. Treadway. I’ll take it under advisement. Anyway, better wrangle Audrey from Lily and get a move on,” he says, stepping around me.
Yeah, I’m not about to leave things like this.
I call out for him to slow down when he suddenly starts running in a full-out sprint. Only then do I notice that Lily is being crowded by two guys wearing football jerseys from her school. Panicked, I start running in their direction, yelling at them. Sure, I’m a big guy, but these dudes tower over me, and I immediately think about how terrified Lily must’ve been yesterday.
Just as they turn around and decide that they’re going to get real dumb, more slurs and, of course, sizeist bullshit flying out of their stupid faces, Sasha comes running from behind me with that vicious Rottweiler bark of hers and gives them what for. Obviously, she’s a ridiculous dog, but the bark gets their attention, and with the three of us running at them, they start to back off.
I grab Lily to make sure she’s okay, though one look tells me that she is very muchnotokay. I pull her to me, and she’s holding on to Audrey for dear life, shaking like a leaf.
I turn to find Roly and oh my god. His face is red, and he’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him before. He advances on them, yelling obscenities in Spanish, with Sasha still barking at them for good measure.
The two cowards stumble backward, then one trips and pulls the other down with him, and they both begin to crab-crawl backward away from him. I’ve got one arm around Lily, who thinks fast and grabs Sasha’s leash. Audrey’s crawled into her shirt. I grab Roly’s shoulder with my free hand and walk him away from the scene before we’re all arrested.
* * *
Roly
My hands are shaking violently as adrenaline races through my body and I feel like I’m on the edge of hyperventilation. It’s only been two days since the Rafi incident, and all of my yelling just reignited a vicious headache. I’m sitting in Heath’s car, and he’s pulling out of the parking lot like he’s driving a getaway car.
