When Laverna woke the next morning, she was in a strange mood. She was loath to admit that she had fallen, just the tiniest bit, for Jim Number Three. She wanted to know how Roots ended, if Kunta Kinte’s family tree finally managed to buck their bad luck. She missed Jim Number Three reading to her, attempting to pronounce all the African names. But he had turned out to be a cheater, and a volunteer, and she had officially sworn off both forever.
She needed a reminder.
She found herself driving to Ellis, to the animal control building.
The woman behind the counter tried to stop her, but Laverna just held up a hand and kept walking. She could hear the dogs barking, and it was easy to ascertain which door to open.
In the third kennel, she found him. Laverna did not know her breeds, just knew that this was the brown dog that attempted to take a chunk out of her calf. She always remembered her enemies. This was turning out to be a year of injuries. It figured, because her daughter had come back to town.
Laverna crouched down in front of the kennel, and the brown dog ignored the deafening sounds of all the other imprisoned dogs and stretched leisurely. He took his time approaching the cage door. When he got near, Laverna expected him to growl, for foam to come out of his mouth, for him to lunge at her. Laverna knew that dogs that bit people had to be put down, and wished the same thing applied to human beings. This dog was destined for execution.
The animal control officer entered the room, holding a clipboard. She cleared her throat nervously. She was a mousy woman, uncomfortable in her own body. Laverna detested women who filled the air with their discomfort, their body apologizing for their very existence. They tried so hard to take such little space that they ended up filling every room.
“What?”
“Sorry, Laverna. I can’t let you be back here by yourself. Liability.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Reputation,” said the animal control officer. “Good things, I swear.”
At this, Laverna laughed. “Bullshit,” she said. The animal control officer kneeled down, joining Laverna. They both studied the dog.
“He’s also got a reputation,” said the animal control officer.
“I know,” confirmed Laverna. “I’m one of his victims.”
But the brown dog didn’t even snarl. He didn’t bark. His counterparts in their cages threw themselves against the chain link, howling and baying for her attention.
The brown dog peered up at her, with his giant dark eyes. She supposed he was a dachshund mix of some kind. He was a mutt, and he had a history of violence. He definitely belonged in Quinn.
He wagged his tail and sniffed at the cage. Jim Number Three had snuck up and hurt her, and she needed to be reminded how it felt. She wanted the dog to bite her.
She stuck her fingers through the chain link.
“Don’t,” said the animal control officer. “We can’t afford the liability.”
“I brought my checkbook,” said Laverna. She wiggled her ring finger, and the dog loped up, and licked where the ring would be.
“I think he likes you,” said the animal control officer.
“Goddammit,” said Laverna. The dog rolled on his back, expecting her to rub his stomach.
Laverna stood, swinging her purse violently as she left the room. She was angry. The males of any species were fickle and mysterious creatures.
Boy on the Roof
The next day was Sunday, clear and blue, the yard furrowed and spiked. There was a green glow to it, as the grass had just begun poking out. She scattered the seeds out of a coffee can with a lid perforated with a knife, was proud of her work. A few seeds remained on the surface of the soil, un-sprouted. They looked like rice, and reminded Rachel of Krystal’s wedding. She had never heard of a wedding on a Wednesday afternoon, figured it was some weird Evangelical thing, or maybe they were hoping Rachel could not get time off from work.
Since Bucky had nothing on his docket, Rachel decided it was the perfect day to put up the new siding. She wanted wood, but Bucky drove her to Ellis and showed her the giant pieces of vinyl, weather-resistant, half the cost, a quarter the labor.
Rachel had her mind set on a house painted the color of Tiffany boxes, that very particular shade of blue, with dark brown trim and overflowing window boxes.
The vinyl siding came in two colors: kind of white, and kind of brown. Rachel thought that the colors were exactly the same as every trailer house in her court, and she was right.
Bucky appeased her by letting her buy eight window boxes, and flats of moss roses at the Ben Franklin. He stood patiently in the paint section, while Rachel had a confusing conversation with the salesman about Tiffany’s, and then the color of robin’s eggs, and then Audrey Hepburn. Eventually, she found a blue that was close enough. Bucky apologized to the salesman.