“Good.”
With that, we left. I intended to eventually reach back out to the Hovas to make things right. Lane agreed to keep me abreast of anything else that happened with the Hovas, but otherwise, I was part of the need-to-know operation. If something didn’t apply to me, I didn’t need to know about it.
I got outside just in time to see a text message pop up on my phone. I rolled my eyes. Rose, again?
Shit, maybe I should just be the rat.
At least that way I won’t have to deal with whatever drama and bullshit she wants to stir back up.
Rose
It was before sunset when my alarm went off.
Shiloh, of course, let me know about it as soon as he heard the alarm. He got out of bed, sniffed me, and then gently batted me with his paw. I told him to give me a couple of seconds, but he wouldn’t have been my Shiloh if he hadn’t demanded that I wake up on his terms.
I quickly threw on a T-shirt and gym shorts, leashed him up, and took him for a walk. Outside, I saw a few people passed out by the entrance to their apartments—or what I presumed were their apartments. I didn’t want to think about how depressing it might have been for someone to be so drunk or so high on a Sunday night that they wound up waiting outside the wrong apartment.
Shiloh didn’t take kindly to their presence, either. What started as a whimper slowly turned into a growl, and I had to hold him close to me to prevent him from acting as a sort of natural alarm clock this early in the morning.
“I know it sucks, buddy,” I said. “But we’ll get through this. Six months and we’ll find someplace else where we can have a real life.”
Assuming I don’t get mugged or killed here first.
I didn’t walk him more than a block down and back. The whole area just gave me a skeevy vibe, and even at this hour, I could hear motorcycles patrolling nearby. I couldn’t imagine that anyone riding a motorcycle before six in the morning was someone I would want to encounter, and though Shiloh made it clear that he wanted a longer walk when we got back to the apartment, I could do nothing more than assure him that I’d find him a place we could do a longer walk at some point.
I opened my pantry door to grab some cereal, only to let out a yip of surprise when I saw a cockroach skittering inside the cabinet.On the first morning! Jesus. I’ve really sunk to a brand new low, haven’t I?
“Shiloh!” I said, half-laughing, half-crying at the state I had found my life in. “You hungry for a morning snack? Huh? Huh?”
Shiloh, of course, was a far smarter dog than I wanted to give him credit for. Sitting on the floor, he perked his ears up and looked over but made no motion. It was if he was saying, “I hear your problems, but deal with them yourself, human.”
With the cockroach gone from view, I made myself a bowl of cereal and sat on the ground, still without a couch or a kitchen table. In some ways, it just felt like I was eating as ancient people did—on the ground, surrounded by their loved ones. I was probably trying to justify it too hard, but I had to do something to get through the day.
Finally, I finished, put on some jeans and a button-down shirt for work, and went to the front door. Shiloh picked up on my departure, letting out a painfully pitiful whimper.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I said. “This is what I need. I’ll get money, which can pay for a better place, which will mean longer walks for you. So just trust me, okay?”
Shiloh started to pant, but it gave him the appearance of a nice smile. I wanted to believe that his smile was just his way of encouraging me to go and get my life in order. I kissed him on the top of the head, stepped back outside, and headed to my car, praying he wouldn’t start howling at my absence.
Somehow, even with the sun closer to rising, with the first light of the morning sky beginning to brighten, I could still hear motorcyclists in the distance. I recalled one group of bikers in Springsville from the last time I was here—LeCharles, in fact, had spoken often about joining—but they were a relatively peaceful group, keeping their biking activities to normal evening hours during the week and saving their crazy for the weekend. Of course, they weren’t angels by any stretch of the imagination, but it sure beat having to begin a Monday morning with the loud popping of biker engines.
Still, I didn’t see any as I drove to Springsville Veterinary. I stopped just outside the door that read, “Employees Only,” waiting for my boss to appear after I knocked on the door once.
The head vet, Dr. David Clovis, a man in his mid-fifties with curly hair, a goofy smile, and clothes that were way too tight for his dad bod, opened the door. He pretended not to recognize me.
“I swear you look so familiar,” he said with a gentle smile. “Do I know you from somewhere else?”
I smiled back politely, willing to endure the brunt of these jokes for a while.
“It’s been almost a decade since I interned with you,” I said. “Crazy how times flies, huh, Dr. Clovis?”
“Indeed, Rose, indeed,” he said. “Hey, I’m just happy you came back here. Though, I will admit to being a little surprised. No one comes back here! You must have shot someone to have to come back here.”
I gave him a polite chuckle. Dr. Clovis always had a flair for not having a mute button or even a subtlety button.
The chuckle, though, was as much to reassure myself as it was him. Because while I had not literally shot someone—if I had, I’d be behind literal prison bars, not the metaphorical one of a crappy apartment in my old town—I had done enough that it wasn’t that far removed from the truth.
“I take it you’re familiar with where everything is and how everything functions, not like much has actually changed in the last decade,” he said, though he was already focusing on something else. “I apologize about the pay. I know it’s a bit of a cut from your last position, but things are tight here.”
