“What?” I say, scrambling off my bed. “What happened?”
“I just went out to check on her. The gate was ajar.”
“Mom! She got out?!”
“I called for her out front, but I didn’t see her anywhere.”
I shove my feet into the closest pair of flip-flops and rush out of my room. “I’m going to look for her,” I shout over my shoulder.
I dash through the front door and out the gate. I weave through blocks of cottages, hoping Bambi hasn’t strayed far. I call her name and clap my hands, keeping an eye out for her blond coat, all the while staving off tears.
She’s nowhere.
I head for the beach, thinking she might’ve made a dash for the surf. My mom’s already there. Her cardigan flaps in the wind, and she’s shaking a bag of dog treats. I see Iris and Ryan, too, combing the area, talking to strangers, probably asking if they’ve seen a happy-go-lucky goldendoodle running around. I walk the sand, using my arm to block my eyes from the glare, trying not to panic.
I see dozens of dogs.
I don’t seemydog.
After an hour, I’ve lost hope. I turn in the opposite direction, toward where Iris and Ryan are still searching. I’m moving closer to the waves when I spot a familiar form about fifty yards down the beach. Mati, holding a bright yellow tennis ball. The sight of him here, ball in hand, is so normal, so expected, it takes me a moment to wonder what he’s doing. I pause, watching him scan the surf, then the shore. His eyes land on me, and he raises the tennis ball with a little shrug.
He’s looking for Bambi.
My mom appears at my side. “Ryan called him,” she says, nodding toward Mati.
“Oh,” I say, detached, as if the sight of him—here for me—didn’t send a bolt of pain through my heart. “You probably wish he’d go away.”
She shrugs. “The more searchers, the better.”
That’s guilt talking. It’s her fault Bambi’s missing—benevolence as a way of making up for negligence. I start walking again, recommitted to the search.
“You haven’t mentioned him in a while,” Mom says, hurrying to match my pace.
I don’t know what she expects—it’s not like my past mentions of Mati have gone over well.
She’s mostly overlooked me in favor of her manuscript the last few days, though she has brought mugs of steaming coffee to my room and given me consoling smiles on the rare occasions our eyes met. For the space of a second, I wonder if Audrey told her about Panra and the engagement—if what I took as an attempt at thoughtfulness is in fact pity—but then, I can’t imagine Aud betraying me that way. No matter how intensely she disapproves of Mati, she’d never run to my mom with gossip of my loss.
“You told me to stay away from him, remember?”
Mom takes my hand, pulling me to a stop. “Elise, I don’t like seeing you this way. I’m sorry,” she says, and for a moment, I think she’s talking about Mati, about the way she’s treated him. But then she continues: “Bambi’s gone because of me. I should have been more careful.”
I yank my hand out of hers. “Shit happens,” I mutter, blowing past her.
After another hour, Ryan, Iris, Mom, and I convene at the picnic tables. Ryan and Iris are all sad eyes and deep frowns. My mom’s full of false optimism. Mati’s nowhere to be seen. I’m a heartbeat short of hysterical.
“We’ll find her,” Mom says. “She’s wearing her collar. Someone will call, we’ll pick her up, and it’ll be as if this afternoon never happened.”
I shake my head and take off for town.
elise
Audrey and Janie are coming for dinner. Their impending visit forces me off the sidewalks and into the shower. I make my bed, clear my desk of dirty dishes, and run the vacuum across the rug, all in an effort to stop worrying about Bambi, lost and lonely on the streets of Cypress Beach.
I’ll be back to looking for her in an hour, soon as dinner’s done.
When the bell chimes, I swing the door open. Aud, laden with bags of Chinese takeout, looks me over and says, “She’s still missing, huh?”
I nod, biting hard into my lip.
