Deciding to refocus on Sebastian to drag her thoughts out of the Altman house, Alice puts on her fake-excited voice. “You going up again?”
“Yeah!” Sebastian cries. “Watch me!”
“I’m watching,” she says, like she has the last trillion times. “I’m watching!”
But right then, a blur of white and green bounds into her peripheral vision, and Alice barely has time to register it as a dog before it’s jumping up on her, muddy paws landing with a thud on the top of her chest.
She doesn’t need the tongue deep inside her ear canal to know it’s Frank. She’d recognize that enormous, perfect, pointy face anywhere, those long legs, that skinny body high above the ground like a graceless giraffe. He’s wearing a green vest she hasn’t seen before, and he’s ecstatic.
“Hi, Frankie! Hi, buddy!”
Frank is wiggling all over her, trying to lick her entire face and hug her entire body. His tail is going like a propeller, hitting the side of the slide with a dull thunk on every rotation.
Sebastian starts wailing, and Alice isn’t sure if it’s because Frank is so big or because she’s stopped watching his impressive slide performance.
“Oh, buddy,” she says, Frank’s tongue on her eyeballs keeping her from looking over at Sebastian. “It’s okay.” She has toclose her mouth for a second, lest she and Frank accidentally French kiss. “This is—oof, down, boy, get off, that’s a good boy—this is Frank the dog.”
Sebastian, safe on the top of the slide, looks at Frank, considering, his little lip still trembling.
“You’re okay, Sebby,” Isabella says from behind Alice, clearly woken up by all of the commotion. “He can’t get to you all the way up there.”
Frank has all four feet on the ground now, wriggling around in joy, and Alice scratches his face with one hand and his butt with the other. She’s missed him so much. Missed his bony ass and his dopey smile, the warmth of him tucked up next to her on the couch, his hugs and easy affection.
No one else—not even Sebastian and Hazel—gets as excited to see her as Frank does. It’s not that she hadn’t known she missed him, but seeing him again makes her realize just how much, what a big role he played in her life for those beautiful few weeks when she was around him so often.
“Hi, sweet boy,” she whispers to him. “Hi, my love.”
“Frank! Come!”
Oh shit.
Right.
Where there’s Frank, there’s going to be…
“Frank! Come! Come he—Oh.”
Van is striding toward them, a leash in her hand, her face sliding from frustrated to shocked as she sees who exactly is holding on to her dog’s collar.
“Alice.”
Alice swallows, her throat suddenly rough and scratchy like she’s on day five of a nasty cold. Van is so fucking beautiful. She’s bundled up, like they all are, hair wet and cheeks pink, and she looks so damned good that Alice’s body feels like it’ssuddenly vibrating.
Alice wants to kiss her. She wants to duck behind the slide and pretend she’s not here. She wants to sink into Van’s arms and be held for the next seven to ten business days. She wants to apologize. She wants to throw up.
“Hey, Van,” Isabella says, way too loudly, from behind Alice. “Wow, long time no see! I forgot you live right around here.” She’s overly cheery, and also walking over to the slide and plucking Sebastian off the top of it and into her arms. “Sebastian, do you remember Van?”
“No,” he says, still sniffling, mostly preoccupied with making sure his little legs aren’t anywhere near Frank’s mouth. Alice wants to tell him that the worst thing Frank would do to his legs is lick them until they were gummed up and sticky, but she can’t quite find a single word right now, so she doesn’t.
“That’s okay,” Van says, resolutely looking at the kid and not at Alice. “We only met one time. You showed me your trucks.”
Sebastian blinks at her. “I have lots of trucks.”
“You sure do,” Isabella says, hauling him away. “Let’s tell Daddy about them.”
And then it’s Alice and Van, standing alone together in the middle of an empty playground. It’s not actively raining at the moment, but the air is so wet it sort of doesn’t matter if it’s drizzling or not. Alice’s face is damp and she hasn’t even started crying yet. She has the absurd thought that it’s probably great weather for Henry’s mushrooms.
“Hi,” she finally manages to say. “Uh, how’s…” She trails off, not sure what she wants to ask.How are you?Stupid question.How have you been since I obliquely agreed to have your brother’s baby and broke your heart?Yeah, no.
