“And here I thought you’d be mad I brought home a mutt.” Charlotte puffs out an exasperated mist as she watches Benji running around her back yard. The dog, Cheddar, is chasing after him happily, the sun bouncing off both their golden locks.
“Your stray is a lot easier to handle than mine.” I lean against the counter, watching him run. He’s not laughing, just running calmly next to the bounding dog.
“Maybe I can take him on the road, find someone to adopt him in a show.”
“I can’t ask that. After everything–”
“Don’t.” She stubs out the joint into the shattered base of an old tea cup, grinding totally healthy marijuana into dust. “Focus on now.”
I nod, running a hand over my face. I’d kind of like to dwell instead. I can’t change the past, I have no agency there. But here, in the present, there are decisions to make.
“Why’d you bring him home?” Charlotte crosses her arms, smiling as the kid tosses a stick. When Charlotte came home, the boy practically ran to get his old hoodie off the drying line, but I wasn’t kidding about him needing sunlight. Sun-bleached bones have more pigment. His little fingers curl and twist randomly as he stops to examine the gardens. I can barely hear Cheddar’s excited bark as she hurls her fury body into the sunset.
“He figured me out.” I explain it all as succinctly as I can. “I have not idea what I’m doing.”
I’ve twirled this over in my mind for days but I come up dry.
“The civilization would only give him back to Westwood.” Charlotte nods as she sorts through it all. “And he could blab if someone local adopts him.”
“Yup.” I lean my head on the counter and groan.
“You could take him on the road.” Charlotte moves to the counter and starts to prepping the kettle for tea. “Somewhere they don’t know you.”
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“Oh, sure. We’ll just pass as siblings.” I roll my eyes. Yeah a black woman and a white kid, definitely related.
“It’s not like it’s strange.”
True. Ragtag-quilted family ensembles are pretty normal, but everyone always wonders how you ended up in that scenario. What’s your story? Besides, that’s not the only issue.
“We can’t both travel. You have fairs coming up and someone needs to get our stash ready for winter. The garden is about to bloom.” I shake my head. “Maybe I should just get him a job at the zoo. I’ve still got connec–”
A loud clang interrupts my thoughts and Charlotte thunders towards me. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
I blink, stunned by her tone as she ignores her kettle sadly rolling across the kitchen, spilling water. “I… I….”
“You know what those monsters do, the work they have.” The tip of her nose is right against mine. “How could you even consid–”
“I was joking!” I shout, desperate to quench the fire in her eyes.
“It didn’t sound like a joke.” Her jaw clenches so hard I swear I can hear the teeth crunching.
“I’m exhausted, I haven’t slept right in three days.” I hold my hands up, like I’m waiting for a weapons search. “ I’m sorry my delivery was off.”
Charlotte continues to glare.
“You know I would never do that.” I can barely keep her gaze. “After everything they’ve done to us, you know I wouldn’t.”
Charlotte relaxes a fraction. Her eyes are still cold as she falls back on her heels. I keep my hands up and my eyes pleading. Finally, after a tense, long minute, she lets out a long breath, her shoulders dropping as she surveys the mess of the kettle. “Dammit.”
She picks up the now dented kettle, cradling it like a cracked egg.
“Maybe you can pop it out?” I give her a hopeful smile.
She flicks me an annoyed look and runs her fingers gently along the fresh grooves in the weathered metal. “I don’t see how else you’re going to ditch him. Unless you plan to leave him in the woods somewhere.”
I snort. “Yet, the zoo is too dark to joke about?”
Her lips press into a thread-thin line. “Fair.”
She brews tea and we awkwardly force a conversation about amo, neither of us able to come up with a solution.
