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“Alex Fox,” I reply. “She was in my yard. In case you didn’t know, the big light in the sky goes out soon and your kid was gonna be out there alone in the dark.”
Leaning forward, her nostrils flare slightly. “You smell like you’ve been drinking alcohol.” She whispers the last word like I’ve been caught in some kind of murderous scandal.
“Says the chick who didn’t even know her kid was gone because she was busy washing her hair.”
Her eyes flash with irritation, but I catch the guilt smoldering there. “For your information, she was in her room playing when I went into the shower. She snuck out. Obviously, you don’t have kids.”
“Yeah.” I snort. “Obviously.”
Cherry appears from her investigation of the lawn and nudges Penny’s small hand with her muzzle.
“Mommy, look! It’s Cherry. She’s just like I remember, but bigger and fuzzier.”
Penny’s mother does a double take. “Wait—is that your dog?” she asks. “Do you live in the house with the barn?”
“Yup. Right through the woods behind your backyard.”
“We drove by the other day when there was a detour. I don’t know why, but Penny was very taken with your house and your dog. I’m surprised you didn’t hear her screaming in front of your house.”
“Kids always love Cherry. I think it’s all the fur. They think she’s a teddy bear.”
Mrs. Rose pulls the towel off her head, and damp blonde hair spills down to her shoulders. “This might sound like an odd question, but are you married?”
Penny answers before I even have a chance to open my mouth. “Of course he’s married. And you’re married to Daddy.” Her little fingers squeeze mine possessively.
I should’ve let go of this little girl's hand five minutes ago. I didn’t even realize I was still holding it. An odd thrum of unease courses through my veins as I realize I don’t want to let go.
I really need to quit drinking. It just tangles grief, memories, and loneliness all up in my head like a web spun by an intoxicated spider.
The woman laughs at her daughter's comments. “I’m not trying to pick you up,” she assures me. “I was just curious because Penny acted like she’d been to your house before. I thought maybe your wife—”
“I have been there.” Penny insists, leaning her head against my forearm and holding on to my hand with both of hers. The small act of affection shoots a spike of bittersweet warmth straight to my heart. It’s got me caught somewhere between smiling and feeling feverish.
I rearrange my thoughts and shake it off. “I thought maybe you brought her to one of my shows.”
Confusion narrows the mom’s brown eyes. “Shows?”
“Art show. I make sculptures from trash.”
She blinks three times. “Like garbage trash?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s actually a thing?”
“I guess it’s my thing.”
“Alex is awesome,” Penny grins up at me. Her smile takes up her whole face. “He’s making an elephant now. I helped.”
“That’s very weird but also fascinating. I’m sorry to say we’ve never been to one of your shows. We’re not art collectors, and to be honest, I’m not sure I could get on board with art made from garbage. No offense.”
I shrug. I don’t give a shit. I just want to go back home to my beer, my wife, and my junk elephant.
“Penny, please stop mauling the nice man.” The mom smiles apologetically and says, “Thank you again for walking her home. I really do appreciate it, and I’m sorry for coming off rude. It’s been a day from hell. Never a dull moment with this one—I thought her days of sneaking off were behind us, at least until she’s a teenager. She seems to have a weird attachment to you and your dog.”
“She’s the cutest stalker I’ve ever had.” Grinning, I finally let go of Penny’s hand. My fingers tingle. “I should get going.”
Penny leans down to plant a kiss on Cherry’s head, then looks at me expectantly. “Aren’t you going to hug me goodbye?” she asks.
“Penny, we don’t ask strangers for hugs. Just say thank you and goodbye.”
Her little chin juts out. Tears begin to pool in her eyes. “But he’s not a stranger. He’s my Alex.”
“I’m so sorry,” the woman says to me. “She has a very vivid imagination.”
I give the pom-pom at the tip of Penny’s hat a playful tug. “I’ll be seein’ ya around, little darlin’. Thanks for helping me with the elephant.”
She stares up at me with eyes so big and woeful they almost pull my battered heart right out of my chest.
“Wait… I have something for you,” she says in a delicate voice. Once again, she reaches into her jacket, this time pulling out a folded piece of paper.
“My little artist. She sketches for hours,” Mrs. Rose says proudly. “She’s actually really good. I’m amazed at the things she can draw. I have no idea where that talent came from. Definitely not from me or my husband.”
