Page 22
It’s my first real walk in daylight. The sky is enormous, and I didn’t expect that. I have data on the atmosphere, the distance to the edge of space—but knowing a thing and seeing it are different operations, and the seeing is overwhelming.
Ruby walks next to me and doesn’t rush. She points things out—the coffee shop on the corner, the bookstore she likes, the park at the end of the block. She’s anchoring me in her world, and I don’t tell her that her voice is the primary reason my processing isn’t overloading, but it is.
We’re passing the park when I see him.
A golden retriever, sitting next to a bench while his owner reads a newspaper. Red collar. Tongue out. Tail sweeping the concrete. He’s watching a pigeon with an expression of pure, uncompromised joy.
I stop walking.
“Aiden.” Ruby takes two more steps before she realizes I’m gone. “No.”
“Ruby.”
“We are on a mission. We have a list.”
“This will take thirty seconds.”
“Aiden—”
But I’m already moving, drawn toward this dog with a certainty that overrides everything else. The dog sees me coming and stands, tail accelerating. I crouch down, and he sniffs my hand and then pushes his whole head into my palm, and the fur is warm and soft.
The owner glances up. “His name’s Chester. He loves people.”
“Chester,” I say, and Chester licks my wrist and I understand, on a level that bypasses everything logical, that this animal and I are operating on the same frequency. Neither of us asked to exist. Both of us are here anyway. And both of us would do anything for the person at the other end of our leash.
Ruby is standing behind me with her arms crossed. “Are you done?”
“Almost.”
“You’re having an experience with a stranger’s dog. Again.” She steers me away with a hand on my elbow, and I feel every one of her fingers.
I’m still thinking about Chester two blocks later. “Did you know there are over three hundred and sixty recognized dog breeds?”
“I did not know that.”
“Golden retrievers are the third most popular breed in the United States. Originally bred for retrieving waterfowl. Their bite pressure is gentle enough to carry an egg without breaking it.”
“Aiden.”
“Labradors are more popular statistically, but I believe golden retrievers have a superior temperament.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Can we get a dog?”
“No.”
“Your lease allows pets. I read it.”
“You read my lease?”
“It was in a folder. I read everything in your apartment. The pet deposit is two hundred dollars, which is manageable if we adjust the—”
“Aiden.” She stops and faces me, trying to look stern, but her mouth keeps twitching. “We are not getting a dog.”
“Okay.”
One more block.
