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Ah.
Got it.
I hugged him back. But now only for pretend.
When he let me go at last, we walked back toward the house arm in arm—also for pretend.
“By the way, you can’t be sneaking out to the river without me in the mornings.”
“Why not?”
“If you’d read the handout, you’d know that I’m supposed to stay with you at all times.”
“I will never read the handout.”
“And what are you doing hitting golf balls into a river, anyway? You’re going to choke a dolphin.”
“They dissolve in water.”
“That’s a scam.”
“Is it too much to want an hour or two to myself?”
“Yes. It is.”
“Just sleep in and don’t worry about it.”
“I have to worry about it. It’s my job to worry about it.”
“Tell you what,” Jack said then. “I’ll stop sneaking off to the river when you tell me what that song is you’re always humming.”
“What do you mean?”
“That song you hum all the time. What’s the name of it?”
“I don’t hum a song.”
“You do.”
“I think I’d know if I were humming a song.”
“Apparently not.”
I frowned. “Do I hum a song?” I tried to remember humming a song.
“When you’re in the shower,” Jack said, like it might jog my memory. “Also, when you’re pouring your coffee, or walking. Sometimes when you brush your teeth.”
“Huh,” I said. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
Jack frowned. “You think I’m making it up?”
“I’m just saying, I think I’d notice.”
We fell quiet as we approached the house, and I thought about sticking my hand in his back pocket as a little homage to heartbreak, and my two exes, and how mean life always is.
But maybe that was crossing the line.
AFTER DINNER, Iwalked Jack out toward the far end of the yard, where I could brief him in private about the corgi situation.
