Yeah, I know. I sigh. Of course I won’t get unquestioning support from Becks, she’s way too opinionated. And who would want friends like that anyway?
I continue, I guess I feel guilty. I always had to look out for Jordan when we were kids. When our parents split, I went with my mom, and he went with my dad. Whenever we were together, I was in charge. So, even now, if Jordan has problems, I try to resolve them.
Becks nods. You’re a good big sister. But you’re not his mom.
I know. It’s just that the guilt sometimes clouds my thinking. Jordan was the sweetest little kid, and that’s what I see when I look at him. But I’ll think about your suggestion—straight talk with Mats.
We cut back towards campus, and on the way, we see the St. Viola animal shelter. There’s a familiar figure in the fenced yard.
Oh my god, it’s fate, Becks exclaims. You have to talk to him.
Not now. I’d like to be less… sweaty.
I don’t care how I look for him, but I’d like to be better prepared for a talk this huge. Of course, Mats looks perfectly put together. Even now, just throwing a tennis ball for a dog, he’s wearing dark jeans and a fancy jacket. I hate his perfect wardrobe.
Hey, Mats, Becks calls out as she halts by the fence, cutting off my escape route. Jesus, this is the second time she’s forced me to spend time with him.
He looks up and smiles at Becks. His eyes flicker over me and that smile fades. I try to shake off my disappointment. Of course he should hate me the way I hate him. Why should things change just because we have to spend more time together?
What are you up to? Becks asks.
He motions towards the dog. Bruno here is not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He wants me to throw the ball, but then he can’t find it in the snow. So, I have to retrieve the ball too. The brown dog in question gallops over, eyes bulging and tongue lolling out. I can’t help laughing at his goofy face.
He’s not going to win any beauty contests either, Mats says. But he’s got a very sweet personality.
Mats walks over and digs the ball out of a snow drift. Bruno enthusiastically follows him there and back, leaping and barking.
Again? he asks Bruno, and gets happy yips in reply. He throws the ball and Bruno runs after it, only to circle in puzzlement when he can’t see the ball anymore. Mats once again trudges through the snow and retrieves the ball.
Okay. New plan, Mats tells the dog, then throws the ball in a perfect arc so it lands on a tiny bare patch of patio stone. Bruno bolts over and gleefully pounces on the ball, then races back to Mats, dropping it at his feet and looking up with that lopsided grin.
Who’s a good boy? Is Bruno a good boy? Mats coos as he caresses the dog’s ears.
Becks fans herself and mutters, Am I the only one who wishes she was a little brown dog right now?
Ew. It’s just you, I reply firmly. Mats must save that velvety voice and loving touch for animals. And girlfriends.
Hey, Mats, what happened to the kitten that you rescued? Becks calls out.
Minnie? She’s in foster care right now. If you’re interested in adopting her, I can let you know as soon as she’s old enough. His tone is cajoling, like a used cat salesman.
We haven’t asked our roommates yet, Becks replies. But we will.
Great. Her foster parents love her, but she gets into everything. I knew she was a survivor when I met her. He enthusiastically tells us how Minnie fell into a full bathtub, then ran around the house dripping everywhere.
You sound like a proud father, Becks says, then pokes me with her elbow.
I reluctantly ask, Mats, I’d like to talk to you about something. When would be a good time?
His cat-dad smile fades, and he checks his fancy watch. I’ll be done my shift in ten minutes. Would that work for you?
Yeah, sure. Of course, there are a million things I’d rather be doing, including a proper cool-down and a hot shower, but it’s better to do the unpleasant things right away. Also, Becks will probably smother me in my sleep if I pass up this opportunity.
She takes off for home, and I sadly watch her disappear. Mats pockets the ball, then clicks a leash onto Bruno.
We go into the shelter, which is a pretty bare-bones operation.
It’s just me, he calls out, and a female voice replies from down a hallway.
