It pisses me off that I can’t shut my feelings down.
The black walls of my bedroom are so grim, and the stars on the ceiling only remind me of thwarted wishes. It’s awful, being cooped up in here, where the bed’s rumpled and unmade, and a plethora of half-empty coffee mugs sit atop my desk. My vintage cameras stare blankly from their shelves, reminding me of my old life, the life I’ve forgotten how to lead.
He’s leaving in two days.
I’m summoning the energy for a shower when my mom comes bursting through my door, eyes wild. “Please tell me Bambi’s in here!”
“No. I thought you let her into the yard?”
She palms her forehead.
“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 see my dog.
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.
“She’ll come home, Auntie,” Janie says. She wraps me in a hug, spidery-armed and warm.
My mom emerges from her library to take the food from Aud. They disappear into the kitchen to assess the calendar and dish up dinner while Janie and I head for the living room. I get out a puzzle for her to work on because I’m not feeling all that attentive. As I sit beside her on the couch, staring unseeingly at the pieces scattered across the coffee table, I reach instinctually down to give Bambi a pat. I find empty air, and my stomach turns over.
In the kitchen, I hear Mom and Audrey talking. Someone’s turned on the radio, a low-key country station. The smell of Chinese food drifts through the house. God, this night feels bizarrely, infuriatingly normal.
How can everyone just … carry on?
I’m working to distract myself, helping Janie fit a corner piece into her puzzle, when I hear distant barking. I freeze, straining to listen, and then I hear it again. Janie hears it, too—she looks at me with eyes like discs.
We leap up and run, holding hands, for the front door. I fling it open to the sight of my dog, stretching to get through the open front gate. Mati’s behind her, holding firmly to a length of rope looped through her collar. He lets her go and she gallops for me, jumping up to put her paws on my chest; she nearly knocks me down. I hold tight to her, blinking back joyful tears. Janie giggles as Bambi graces my face with dozens of slobbery kisses.
My mom and Audrey come outside to the commotion. While they give Bambi greetings almost as enthusiastic as mine, I sneak a look at Mati, still standing at the gate, holding the makeshift leash loosely in his hands. He looks satisfied, and at the same time, profoundly sad.
It takes a minute for my mom and Audrey to notice him.
“Where did you find her?” Aud calls across the yard.
Mati scuffs the sole of his shoe against the sidewalk. “She was waiting at our cottage when I returned from the beach.”
She misses him, too. Oh, Bambi.
I’m watching Aud because it’s too hard to hold Mati’s gaze, and her expression confuses me, hovering somewhere between remorse and gratitude. She gives him a tight smile. “Thank you for bringing her home.”
“I was happy to,” he says.
My mother turns her back and shuffles into the house. Audrey follows, tugging Janie along by the hand.
I’m still stooped over Bambi, running my hand down her silky back, but I feel Mati’s attention settle on my shoulders like a physical thing, heavy with penitence. I glance up because it’s impossible not to and find him smiling at the sight of my dog and me, reunited.
I mouth, Thank you.
He nods once, pivots, and walks away.
I take Bambi into the house, fill her water bowl, and feed her too many treats. My pulse is racing with the adrenaline of reclaiming my dog, combined with the heart-shredding experience of looking Mati in the eye.
Eventually, we sit down to dinner. Mom talks about her manuscript (almost done), Audrey gripes about her job at Camembert (always busy), and Janie chatters about her latest preschool accomplishment (shoe-tying—yay). Aud asks about Ryan and, in an effort to connect—to at least try—I tell them about Xavier and Iris and the interrupted make-out session. Aud laughs. Mom cracks a smile.