Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“When else am I going to get the chance to be a single stay-at-home dog mom?”
“Who knew dogs needed so much stuff?”
Grace cocks her head later that afternoon. “I am not convinced they do.”
We’re sitting on the sofa watching the canine in question. He’s blissfully asleep on his new navy tweed memory foam bed. He’s wearing his matching navy leather and silver-studded collar. The stuffed toy duck he’s curled up with doesn’t match anything but does look cute as fuck. Which is why I’ve taken about a hundred photos of him. In other news, my renewed interest in shopping and photography are going great. Might be a good idea to start calming down on the spending, however.
“You can’t just expect him to lie on the floor like an animal,” I say. “And the dog boutique was having a sale.”
“They don’t call it a pet store?”
“Apparently not. There were sweaters and costumes for Halloween and everything.”
Grace is more amused than impressed. “You’re going to turn into one of those people who have a social media account for their pet, aren’t you?”
“He might not even be staying. This is all temporary. I’m not even sure I want a dog.”
“That why did you buy up half the store?”
“No comment.”
She snorts.
An array of old photo albums are on the coffee table. It seemed like a good idea to divert her from further discussions about death and DNA and to help us reconnect. Grandma often carried around a camera. She’d take shots of things she wanted to sketch or paint. So there’s plenty of scenery from the local area. But also, a lot of my cousin and me from our summers together. Pictures of us swimming and bowling and hanging out at the mall. Doing all of those normal everyday things. Guess my interest in photography comes from Grandma.
“What are you going to name him?” asks Grace. “You have to call him something.”
“I don’t know.”
The dog opens an eyelid to check that I’m still sitting where he left me. He wags his tail exactly once, before going back to sleep.
“How about Fluffy?” asks Grace.
“No.”
“Smelly? Stinky?”
“That was an unfortunate situation that has since been remedied,” I say. “Which reminds me…I need to buy more shampoo.”
“I gave the bathroom a wipe-over while you were out.”
“You did?” I pause in surprise. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But you can deal with the wet towels.” Her smile is one-sided. “Saw the gym setup in the garage. The boxing bag and so on. Do you use it a lot?”
“Yeah.” I hold up my hand and show her my knuckles. “I have calluses and everything. It’s honestly been kind of therapeutic for me. A way to safely deal with any anger or general negative emotions.”
Her gaze turns bitter, and she says, “We’re not supposed to have those feelings.”
“No. Women are not.”
“Society wants us to smile and be pretty and nothing more.” She takes a deep breath. “And what’s the room at the back of the house? You use it for a study or something?”
“Something like that.”
A line appears between her brows. Like she wants to ask more but is holding herself back. Setting boundaries with my cousin has been successful. I made it clear that I didn’t want to talk about my ex or anything relating to that situation. Not that she knows about the contents of the war room, since the door is locked. But she’s stopped pushing.
It’s strange how discussing these things with Noah didn’t put me on edge, while similar conversations with my cousin does. Guess I’ve spent more time with him recently. We have a level of trust between us. I don’t want to spill the tea, be a fascinating case study, or a cautionary tale. All of those lenses have a bad habit of blurring the details that make me a living, breathing person. My relationship with friends and family should be different and deeper.
Though there’s a small chance I am being overly sensitive. I don’t know. It’s an understandably sensitive topic.
Grandma and I talked about anything and everything. The cringe I experienced each and every time she sat me down to discuss sex as I was growing up. Because for some reason we had to have the conversation more than once. Guess aging hippies and arty types tend to be open to most things. It left me believing it’s how things should be with people close to you.
“Tackle any more of your wedding deposits today?” I ask in a careful voice.
She wrinkles her nose. “Lost thousands on the dress. But managed to get the booking fee for the reception place refunded. They had another couple ready to take the date.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah.” She frowns at her pale pink toenails. “It was going to be so beautiful. I had it all planned out.”
“You’ll make an amazing bride someday. But in the meantime, it’s okay to grieve what was lost. I’m sorry you’re going through this.”