He followed me into the kitchen as I looked out the window. The day was sunny, and it was hot for that time of year. I made a salad and a couple of sandwiches and tossed them into my backpack with a blanket before rolling my bicycle outside.
It took me a moment to feel comfortable pedaling with Sisuei’s leash around my wrist. I was too scared of falling to relax. But Sisuei was a good companion: he stayed beside the bike and was attentive to my movements, and he knew what I was going to do before I did. I was supposed to take care of him, but he was taking care of me, and I could have hugged him, I was so grateful.
We went to the Montreal Botanic Garden, one of the prettiest places in the city. Nearly two hundred acres of plants, flowers, and greenhouses. After paying, I walked straight to the Chinese Garden, which was my favorite. I found a peaceful spot and sat down to eat. Sisuei didn’t even blink as he observed me, mouth watering.
Have I ever told you I can’t say no to anyone?
I tore off pieces of the sandwich for him, hearing Trey shouting at me in my head that I was only supposed to give him dog food. But those little pellets were disgusting-looking and they smelled like liver. According to him, they had all the nutrients a dog needed, and the sugar and fats in human food was bad for dogs. But what was the harm in a little chicken and tomato? They were natural, plus I always bought organic. And they must have tasted way better than his food, which looked like rabbit droppings.
“If you don’t tell him, I won’t,” I said to the dog as he devoured one last bite and almost swallowed one of my fingers. I stroked him behind the ears, and he licked my cheek.
It was a little gross, that trail of saliva on my face, but it didn’t keep me from loving him more and more with every second that passed.
When we were done, we both lay down on the grass, and when we got up, we walked beneath the trees. Sisuei kept pressing his nose into my hand, trying to get me to pet him. I didn’t know why he needed my attention all the time, but I liked it. I could get used to having a dog, walking him, the constant companionship. Even Trey didn’t make me feel as necessary or important as Sisuei did when he gave me one of those looks full of longing. I’d never had an experience like that before.
We returned home at dusk. When we turned the corner for our street, Sisuei became frantic, and soon I realized why: Trey was waiting for us in the doorway, sitting on his suitcase. He stood as soon as he noticed our presence.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I can’t tell you how much I love such a passionate welcome-home,” he said, and I laughed, letting him embrace me and relishing his scent. I closed my eyes, feeling an almost unbearable throbbing beneath my skin. “I came back early. I couldn’t stand spending another night away from home. I missed you too much.”
He kissed me slowly while Sisuei walked around us in circles groaning like a puppy. Trey let me go to give him some attention. He barked and jumped around, and when he finally calmed down, we entered the house.
We had dinner and wound up on the floor on a pile of cushions watching a movie. Then we went for a walk so Sisuei could do his business before bed.
We went to La Fontaine, and in the park, Trey took Sisuei off his leash so he could run around. We walked the path, not talking, as ifwords no longer had a point. The only sound was the rustle of leaves in the wind and the water in a nearby fountain. Now and then, Trey would look over at me or kiss me for no reason, first soft, then so passionately that I would writhe with frustration when he pulled away.
I sighed and looked up into the black, empty sky.
“It’s so empty. It’s nothing like Petit Prince,” I whispered.
“It is, though. It just looks different.” He wove his fingers through mine and spun me around to face him. “Do you miss the island?”
“A little, yeah. I miss the freedom I felt there. The…feeling of home.”
“But you can be just as free here. You can be happy, you can have everything you want if you try.”
Curious, I asked him, “Do you?”
“I feel like I do. Sometimes.” He shrugged. “I want them, at least.”
“Having and wanting aren’t the same thing. They’re not even close to the same thing.”
He shook his head. I could tell there was something he was trying to say, but he couldn’t find the way.
“I know, you’re right, but I know what I want, and I know I’ll always fight for it, and in a way, that’s much more important than having it.” He pulled my hand until we were standing under a tree whose leafy branches fell like curtains, concealing us. He held my face and stared at me. “I know I want to enjoy my life. That every minute of it counts. That I need to do what I love, what moves me. Be free. Choose. Choose how, when, where, why, with whom. But I already know the answer to that last one. It’s with you.”
Knowing he wanted me like that made me feel sure of myself. Knowing he needed me—that was a new feeling, and it was addictive.
“Why do we always end up having these serious, intense conversations?” he asked. I shrugged, and he shook his head. “Just so you know, I’m not usually like this.”
“Oh, you aren’t? What are you usually like?”
“A dumb jerk.”
I giggled. “I doubt that. I see you as a deep, sensitive, romantic man.”
“Romantic? My idea of romance used to be telling a girl I liked her tits and ass. I thought that was the best compliment you could give. But I have to admit, it usually worked.”
