Beatrice obeyed and blew her nose. She balled up the tissue in her fist and continued.
“I was walking sweet Penelope,” Beatrice began. “And another dog—a hateful, vicious dog—started walking towards us. It growled at us and made Penelope intensely angry.”
“Uh huh.”
“And as we were passing by this dog, Penelope pulled on the leash really hard. She wanted to get to the dog to let him have it.” Beatrice’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. “And she did. She got away from me and attacked the dog.”
“Oh God,” Clara said. “What happened?”
“She bit the dog!” Beatrice cried. “That hateful dog who deserved it! And the owner was furious!”
“What kind of dog was it?” Clara asked.
“A Chihuahua,” Beatrice replied.
Clara looked at her sister flatly. “The hateful, vicious dog was a Chihuahua?”
“Yes, Clara.”
“And did Penelope kill the Chihuahua?” Clara suddenly felt irritated.
“No, but the owner demanded I tell her whose dog I was walking. And then she stormed over to Mrs. Johnson’s house and screamed at her. She demanded Mrs. Johnson pay the vet bill and didn’t want to see ‘that little girl walking that dog again.’ And then Mrs. Johnson got angry with me and told me I couldn’t walk her dog anymore because I was irresponsible. And she told me to go home and not bother with walking the other dogs because she was going to tell Mrs. Peterson and Mrs. Levine about it.” Beatrice took a deep breath. “And I begged and pleaded and said I would never drop the leash again and that the Chihuahua was the one that started the fight, and she said it didn’t matter and that it was my responsibility to walk her dog safely and not let her bite other—”
A loud knock interrupted Beatrice.
“Oh Clara! They’ve come to take me away!” Beatrice screamed. “I’m going to jail because Penelope bit that dog!” She clutched at her sister desperately.
Clara rolled her eyes. “Bea, it’s Evan. He brought over dinner,” she said, and Beatrice let her go.
Clara opened the door to find Evan holding two big bags oozing the delicious aroma of Asian cuisine. She was immediately hungry.
“Hi Clara,” he said, and she moved aside to let him in.
He walked to the kitchen and placed the bags on the table. There were lit candles everywhere, but the house was still cast in a yellow glowing darkness. He didn’t like it and meant to ask Clara when they would get their electricity back on, but he refrained from saying anything when he noticed Beatrice’s tear-stained face glimmering in the firelight.
“Beatrice, you look like you’ve had a bad day,” Evan said gently, walking over to sit beside her on the couch.
“It was dreadful,” she replied. “I lost my job.”
“How?” Evan asked.
“I dropped the leash.”
Evan looked over to Clara for clarification, but she only shook her head.
He thought for a moment. “Are you hungry?” he asked Beatrice.
Beatrice shook her head. “I’ll never eat again,” she said dramatically.
“Hmm,” Evan replied. “That’s too bad because I ordered just about everything on the menu.”
Beatrice didn’t reply.
“I don’t know how your sister and I will eat it all,” Evan continued. “I guess we can try, though.”
He walked back to the kitchen with Clara. She set the table and poured them all glasses of water from the sink. She sat down with Evan and waited for Beatrice to join them. She knew Beatrice would. The smell of the Chinese food was too much, even for an emotionally shattered girl who said she’d never eat again.
“Thank you for dinner,” Clara said as Evan unpacked the bags.
“Anytime, Clara,” he said setting the trays of food out in a kind of buffet style. He looked at her and smiled.
They dug in, piling their plates with various flavors of chicken, steamed vegetables, and fried rice. Clara couldn’t imagine how much Evan had spent on it. He brought over eight different trays.
She watched as he picked up a piece of Kung Pao chicken with a pair of chopsticks. He was an expert with them, and she found it fascinating.
“How do you eat the rice with those?” she asked after a moment.
He looked up at her. “You scoop it.” He demonstrated by positioning the sticks slightly apart and then running them through the rice. He lifted his hand to show a neat clump of rice sitting atop the ends of the sticks.
“It’s really an inferior utensil,” Evan said. “But I’ve convinced myself it helps me play guitar better. Fine motor skills or something like that.”
Clara nodded and took a bite of her egg roll.
“Did you have a nice day at school today, Clara?” Evan asked. There was a playful smile on his lips.
“Yes,” she answered, uncertain where he was going with the conversation.
“And did anything special happen?” he pressed.
Clara blushed. “Maybe.”
“So tell me,” Evan said between mouthfuls of vegetables.
“Someone held my hand,” Clara said, not understanding how to flirt, but thinking that she may just be doing it now.
“And did you like it?” Evan asked.
“Yes,” Clara whispered forgetting all about Amy’s ugly face and the remarks made by students as she walked down the hall. “Very much.”
Evan leaned into the table, his voice low and tender. “Well, I liked it too. Very much.”
She felt on fire, like her body lit up and his voice was the spark. She never felt a strong desire to kiss anyone. There was never anyone at school she cared about. But he was different, and she was afraid of herself around him, how he drew her to him with just the sound of his voice. It was deep and hungry for her, and she wanted to lay herself out on the table for him and let him taste her everywhere like something out of a vampire fiction book.
She shocked herself with her thoughts and quickly looked over at Beatrice who was watching them like a hawk.
“Beatrice, you can grieve and still eat,” Clara said, happy for the distraction.
“Can I?” Beatrice asked.
“Yes,” Clara replied, and Beatrice jumped up from the couch and ran over to the table.