Plight(35)

Unable to respond, as the memory stole my movement like it always did, a constant anchor that held me responsible for the terror we'd both experienced, I just stood there instead, trying to smile while continuing to hold the door. She paused for a second as she walked past, but I didn't raise my eyes to meet hers. I reached out and patted Pugly the baby-dog instead before she continued on to the hand dryer. In that moment, I just couldn't bring myself to stare into the same eyes that had spilled the most fear I'd ever seen in a person. Eyes that begged me to help them live because they didn't want to die. Terrified eyes. I'd been in the presence of some terrified guilty and non-guilty clients on the cusp of receiving their sentences, but Danielle's fear-filled eyes trumped them all, and I just couldn't bring myself to remember them right now.



       
         
       
        

"I don't think he's gonna like this," she said.

Closing the door, I helped her unravel Pugly from his towel without looking up, my thoughts drifting somewhere between the time we were ten years old and now.

"Lots?"

"Yeah?"

"Please look at me."

I raised my eyes to meet hers, concern swirling in their deep brown depths.

"Don't," she said, her soft fingers gently trailing down the side of my face, their touch sending a sensation through my skin that I couldn't quite make out was hot or cold. "It wasn't your fault. Why can't you understand that?"

I wondered for a moment if the word 'guilt' was written in magic marker all over my face that only she could see, because she'd always somehow been able to read me like an unreadable book.

"You nearly died because of me," I choked out. "That will always be my fault."

"We nearly died because we were kids who did stupid kid-things. It was nobody's fault."

I nodded, but she was wrong. I'd led us into the drain that day, and I'd convinced her it was safe to stay there with me just so we could be alone. It was definitely my fault.

She sighed and slammed her palm against the dryer button. It roared to life, the noise scaring the bejesus out of Pugly, his barrel-like body tumbling and scrambling in her arms like a crocodile performing a death roll.

"DUDLEY! Stop! It's okay. It's just warm air. Warm, noisy air."

"Here." I grabbed hold of him before he tore a hole in her lace dress. "Let me hold him while you keep him calm."

"Somehow, I don't think he's gonna be calm during this."

"Rub his cheeks."

"What?"

"Like this, watch."

Securing him with one arm, I placed my thumb on his wrinkly face and massaged in slow, soothing circles, hoping like fuck his eyes would stop bulging out of his head even more so that what they already did.

"He looks scared."

"Since when do pugs not look scared?"

"Don't pick on him. He's terrified."

"No, he's not. Look  … "

Danielle tilted her head to the side then smiled. "Wow! Is he going to sleep? How'd you do that?"

"I have magic hands."

I didn't, or maybe I did. Truth be told, I was more surprised than Danielle that my doggy facial massage had actually worked. I'd come across a video about it on YouTube once so figured I'd give it a try. At the very least, I'd hoped Pugly wouldn't bite me.

"No, seriously. How'd you do that?" 

"I told you. I have magic hands."

"Elliot," she warned.

"Don't believe me? I'll put you to sleep later."

My response sounded far dirtier than I'd planned, but when I noticed her shuffle from one foot to the other, the dirty connotation wasn't such a bad thing.

"We're not gonna fuck," she said, her tone matter of fact.

"I never said anything about fucking."

"No, but you implied it."

"No, I didn't."

The hand dryer switched off, so we both pushed the button at the same time.

"You insinuated your 'magic' hands would be putting me to sleep."

"Exactly."

"Ha!"

My God she was cute, especially when she was tipsy.

Staring at each other for what felt like eternity, I was happy for the moment to become a time loop when both our faces broke into huge smiles.

"I've missed you lots, Lots," she said, her voice not much louder than a whisper.

I stopped massaging Pugly's cheek and slid my hand into hers. "I've missed you, too."

"Good. I'm still not fucking you, though."

Before I could argue our case, my magic wore off and Pugly sprung back to life and out of my arms. "Jesus! Are you sure he is not part grasshopper?"