Even through the cold, I felt a chill. My bones were hollow, rattling behind the dogs up Milwaukee Avenue through a tunnel of new mid-rise buildings,FOR LEASEsigns in all the storefront windows. Above, pricey condos, second homes, rental investments, no one home. There used to be a taco place on this corner, a big grassy side lot with picnic tables for hot summer days.
A summer day was myth, here on this street, but I was hungry for the hope that winter would eventually—eventually—come to an end, and this would all be some kind of misunderstanding and Joey—
But nothing could ever be the same again. This winter would never end.
What had I been singing? I’d lost the tune, or the taste for it.
I didn’t have a song for the noise I felt rising up from my gut: pain and hurt and fear. And—
Raw animal loneliness.
I let it loose and it came out as a mewling cry, then before I could clamp down on it, built to a wail, a howl from the bottom of a cavern, echoes against the buildings coming back in a sort of sloppy harmony.The leash on the dogs went slack as they doubled back to check on me. I patted at them, reassuring them, and urged them forward.
I’d heard something melodic in the sound I’d made, and tried it again as we walked on, letting whatever noise came to me rise, rise until I wasn’t crying but singing. A wordless tune made of sorrow, made to carry it. My feet on the ice kept time, a percussion of a sort.
And then I picked up another layer, the scratch of another set of footsteps behind us. The dogs pricked up their ears and rounded, high alert, barking and pulling.
“Hey,” I said as the reins went taut on my wrist. I had to dig in with my boot heels to keep them from dragging me.
The man was more than a half block back, minding his own business. He’d slowed to peer into a storefront, hands in the pockets of his long coat, his profile and cap pointed back so I couldn’t see him well.
Bear didn’t like the look of him, though, and set his snarl to discouraging.
“Bear,” I snapped. “Come on.”
But Bear dug in. The roll of his growl rose into a higher part of his throat, changing gear.
Down the street, the guy flicked a glance our way, his flat cap hiding his face, then went back to window shopping.
I pulled at the leash until Bear finally gave in. He wouldn’t walk ahead of me with Lemondrop, though. He insisted on walking at heel, like a show dog, pausing to look back every few feet. When Lemon stopped to yellow the snow, Bear kept watch.
We crossed Milwaukee Avenue and headed back the way we’d come. Bear kept his guard up as we passed the guy on the opposite side of the street, and after. I looked over to see what had been so interesting in the storefront window—
A sign readFOR LEASE.
I pulled up short. The storefront was empty. All of the windows on that block were.
But that meant—
I wheeled around. I couldn’t see him, and that was worse. Was he following me? I could think of reasons, pervy ones. Pepper spray–carrying reasons.
I pulled in the leash so that the dogs stood closer to me.
But then I spotted him. Still across the street, his cap pointed away from me. He was taking a turn into the neighborhood on the far side. Away.
My heart was the percussion now, heavy kick-drum thumps in my chest. I watched until the guy’s back disappeared and then a minute more, just to make sure.
Bear’s ears were still flicked in that direction, tuned for footsteps, for keys jingling in a faraway pocket. Maybe the guy was whistling.
“Who’s a good boy?” I said. “Come on. Take us home.”
Their second favorite word, home. They picked up their pace. Home was where the Wufers were.
THE NEXT MORNING, SATURDAY, Islept in as late as the dogs would let me. When I finally pulled the pillow off my head, Bear was keeping watch at the side of my mattress. Lemon, lying on the floor, gave a big sigh.
Oona’s bed hadn’t been slept in.
Hey, at leastoneof us was living her twenties. Except Oona was actually fortysomething.
