At the bottom of the hill, she turned on Quail Run and passed the orchard, glimpsing a blur of twinkle lights through the rain. She slowed to a walk, panting hard, after she veered down College Drive near the Syc’s gates. The rain had drenched the legs of her jeans and the bottom of the sweater, but she was warm inside her coat. The campus looked abandoned, with students and faculty cleared out for the holidays. She didn’t turn onto Pi?on Drive as she so often had, but headed instead to Main Street and the District. There, she spied the bright windows of the Patty Melt, and she jogged toward it. A blast of warm, greasy air greeted her when she pulled the door open, and she sighed in relief.
Inside, Jess dried off in the bathroom as best she could with the hand dryer and brown paper towels, and then she ordered a Coke and a large side of fries at the counter from Rose Prentiss, who said hello and made a crack about the vacant restaurant, everyone afraid they’d melt in the rain. Snuggled in a booth by the window, Jess picked at the basket of fries at her elbow, dipping them in a glob of ketchup. She kept her eyes on the street, watchful, a twinge of unease lingering, but there was little traffic. Water pooled in the lot, sloshed against a concrete parking barrier. Even the gas station across the street was slow. A streetlight snapped on, fanned a glow across the sheets of rain. She pressed down all the buttons on her soda lid, liking the click and dent of plastic under her thumb. With her fingernail, she carved half-moon impressions into the Styrofoam. She checked the clock over the counter. Five o’clock on the first day of winter. Shortest day of the year. She was suddenly ravenous, and she stuffed several fries in her mouth, barely chewing and gulping them down, the salt and grease coating her teeth. The tension in her eased, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a little lighter, a little like she might be okay. She licked the tips of her fingers before wiping them on a napkin.
Rose came over to her table. “Hey, Jess? My manager said we’re closing up early. You’re the only customer we’ve had in hours.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said. She shoved the last fries in her mouth and pulled on her coat, plucking at the damp collar. She snapped the rubber band at her wrist. She didn’t want to go home yet, but she wasn’t sure where else to go.
“Do you need a ride?” Rose said. “Angie’s coming to pick me up. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking you home.”
Jess smiled. “Thanks. That’s okay. I’m already wet anyway. I think I’ll walk a bit more.”
“You sure?”
Jess nodded and licked the salt from her lips. She gathered her umbrella, swollen with water, from beneath the table. “I’ll be fine.”
For the first time, Jess crossed through the gates of the Syc. She wandered down the barren pathways and tried a few doors, but they were locked up for the weekend and upcoming holiday. She found a bench under a covered patio and curled up, holding her knees close for warmth. She thought about botany. The scientific study of plants. She tried to picture herself walking these sidewalks, leaning on lab tables, looking under microscopes. She thought of a dead horned toad, looking at a fragment of its eye with Dani at her shoulder. Could she stay in this town? Dani would move away, go to a good school somewhere in another state. She wouldn’t have to worry about running into her. Maybe once she was behind these gates, she could be someone else.
Rain sluiced down the side of the building, gushed across the concrete. Another half hour, maybe, and she’d head home. Her mom would start to worry if she stayed out too long. Under her coat, she shifted her notebook, which dug into her ribs, and then tried to dry her face with her scratchy sweater. Too cold to sit still, she stood and began to pace. She jogged back and forth as the rain clattered on the roof like hooves. As she did, she caught sight of the sign on the door: Department of Theater. Dani’s mom’s building. She traced the sign’s lettering. She breathed on the adjacent window and drew a crooked heart, and her optimism faded. Her throat ached as she thought of her best friend, as the shame and guilt swelled.
Shivering in her damp clothes, she opened the umbrella again and walked the two blocks down to Dani’s. Adam’s old car and Rachel’s both sat in the driveway, but the lights were still off. Through the window next to the front door, though, she could see a faint glow coming from the other side of the house.
Jess let herself through the unlocked side gate to the backyard, staying in the shadows along the fence. From there, the light shone bright through the window. Dani sat at the dining table, reading a book. As Jess watched, Rachel came into the room. She paused and put a hand on Dani’s shoulder, dropped a kiss on her head, and then moved out of sight. After a moment, the attic light snapped on.
Dani looked down at the book but didn’t turn the page. From that angle and distance, she could have been her father, so closely did her face and posture resemble his.
Her best friend, reading a book. As if nothing had happened. As if no time had passed.
Teeth chattering, breath steaming, Jess walked toward the house, mesmerized by its yellow glow, a strange kind of fire in the rain. She climbed the stairs to the deck and crossed to the sliding glass door. She closed the umbrella, wrapped its band tight, and set it on the table. When she reached the door, she pressed both palms to the glass, and when the glass was cold, she gasped, so sure she’d been it would bring warmth.
Hold Still, This Is Going to Sting
To be fair, the dog was dead. Dani had gone over to check the Captain’s food and water, like she said she would, and found him lying on the kitchen floor. It wasn’t as if she stuck him in the freezer alive. It was summer. What else was she supposed to do?
“You could’ve called the vet,” her mother yelled through the receiver. “You could’ve called one of us.” Static scratched on the line.
Dani said, “It was the weekend. I was working. I’m calling you now, aren’t I?”
“Three days later.”
“I didn’t want to bother you during your—retreat thing.” Her mother and her husband Hugh were at some mountain sanctuary outside Prescott, “realigning” themselves, as Hugh called it.
“It’s not a bother to tell us our dog has died. It’s not a bothersome detail.” Her mother sniffled. “Did you cry? I know you didn’t cry.”
Dani said, “No.” She hated crying. Hated it, that trembling feeling rising up, the burn, the lack of control. “But I wasn’t glad. I didn’t gloat. The dog was old.” An understatement. The Captain was blind and tottered about in a striped baby onesie that covered his furless, mole-like skin. Her mother had gotten him soon after Dani failed out of Stanford seventeen years ago. Captain Asshole, the little mayor of bark town, destroyer of shoes and carpets. The Captain would snarl and lunge at her legs, corner her in the hallway, and once or twice she gave him a little kick, even though he had no teeth left and could only gum at her ankles. When she’d scooped him with the dustpan into the plastic trash bag, he’d weighed next to nothing. She’d cleared out a frozen pizza and a few bags of vegetables, and he fit right on the shelf.