180 Seconds

  Esben catches his breath when I move my hand to the front of his pants. “Allison, you sure? We haven’t since . . . since that morning.”

  I touch my lips and tongue to his neck, and, in one quick movement, Esben picks me up, and I clamp my legs around his waist while he carries me to the bedroom. His touch, his sound, the way he moves and breathes and makes me feel so alive are exactly what I need. Instead of losing myself in him and in making love, I do the opposite. I find myself again.

  After, while I rest on his chest and my body is still racing, he asks, “You doing okay?”

  “I think so. As much as I can be.” I roll onto my stomach and hold myself up on my arms. “I feel better than I did earlier today.”

  “I like seeing your smile back,” he says, but I know he’s still worried about me.

  “I’m trying.” I kiss him quickly. “So, where were you this morning?”

  “Oh, yeah . . .” He laughs and stretches over me to get his phone.

  He shows me his home page, and I read for a few minutes, my smile now broad. “That’s the older man who was at the coffeehouse you took me to. I remember him. You got him a puppy?”

  He shrugs. “He’s there every time I go in, and he always looks so lonely and sad. It was bothering me. So, I started talking to him, and he’s got no family nearby. Only a daughter halfway across the country, who can’t be bothered to call him more than once a year. He just seemed so bummed out and depressed, and . . . I don’t know. What’s more fun than a puppy? I drove him to the shelter and hooked him up with that little black Lab. Cute, huh?”

  I zoom in on the image, and the puppy is certainly an adorable ball of fluff, but that’s not what’s most important here. “God, that man has the best expression ever! Look how happy he is!”

  “Right? And he’s retired and home all day, so he’s a perfect puppy owner.”

  “Was the shelter depressing, though? All those dogs who need homes?”

  “A little, I can’t lie.”

  “I always feel so bad for the older dogs that nobody wants. Everyone wants a puppy or at least a young dog, but the older ones can stay in shelters for years. The dog versions of me,” I say with a small laugh.

  Esben grazes his fingers across my bare shoulder. “People don’t know what they’re missing.”

  “One day, I’m going to adopt a really ugly older dog. Like, so ugly that only I will think he’s cute. The most seemingly unadoptable dog possible.”

  “I like that idea. A lot.”

  Esben must be rubbing off on me, because my wheels start turning. I Google ugly dogs and older dogs and unwanted dogs. Esben is quiet while I scour the Internet. Then I look down at the phoenix bracelet that cuffs my wrist. “I . . . I have an idea,” I tell him.

  His grin is infectious when he exuberantly pulls me on top of him and tickles my waist. “I was waiting for this. I’m all in.”

  I laugh. “You don’t even know what my idea is!”

  “Yes, I do!”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course you do. You practically invented all this stuff. So, you’ll help me?”

  “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  He grabs a handful of our clothes, and I giggle when he covers us in a mess of the jeans and shirts that we’d ripped off.

  My spirits are already lifted in a way they haven’t been since before the phone call, and I’m almost self-conscious over how I cannot stop smiling. “I’m excited.”

  “There’s my girl.” Esben sits and tangles his hands in my hair. “I’m proud of you.”

  “You think we can do this? They won’t mind?”

  “They’ll be ecstatic.”

  My phone rings, and I jump. There’s always the hope that Steffi might call.

  “Hey, Simon.” I make bug eyes at Esben and try to cover myself with the shirt that he’s tossed on the bed. I can’t talk to Simon while I’m naked and straddling my boyfriend!

  “Okay, don’t get mad,” he starts. “But I’ve been worried about you. Really worried. So, I’m driving up to see you.”

  “I’m not mad at all, but you didn’t have to do that.” I slip off the bed and scrunch in funny positions as I try to get dressed with one hand. Esben starts to laugh, and I glare at him to be quiet. “When will you be here?”

  He clears his throat. “In about six minutes.”

  “Six minutes!”

  Esben leaps out of bed and yanks on his underwear and jeans.

  “Wow. Okay.” My hair probably looks like sex hair, and I start pulling a brush through it while Esben hooks my bra for me. “Do you mind coming out with Esben and me? We’ve got a little something planned.”

  “Anything. I just want to see you. I’ll pull up where I parked when I took you to school this fall.”

  God, that seems like ages ago. “Okay, see you in a minute.”

  We scramble to pull ourselves together, then rush outside. I scan the street for Simon’s car, but he doesn’t seem to be here yet. We stand on the steps, getting colder by the second, and Esben sneaks a steamy kiss while we wait. Just as his tongue is really starting to heat me up, a fierce horn blow makes me jump. I look to the street again, but Simon still isn’t here. I’m about to go back in for another kiss when the horn blows more violently. I pull back and look again.

  “Wait a second. Is that Simon?” I go down a few steps and peer at the sleek silver car. “Oh my God, it is.” I rush to the passenger window to find a smiling Simon waving at me.

  He rolls down the window. “Hello, kids!”

  “Slick ride!” Esben exclaims.

  “When the hell did you buy a Porsche?” I demand. “This is insane!”

  “That other car had almost two hundred thousand miles on it,” he says with a shrug. “I figured, why not? Get in. You must be freezing. Want to drive?”

  “No way.” I shake my head. “I’d be too scared I’d wreck it.”

  Simon sticks out his tongue. “Esben? You up for it?”

  “Seriously? Totally! Are you sure?”

  In answer, Simon gets out and heads for the passenger seat.

  “Woo-hoo!” Esben bounds to take the wheel.

  Before Simon gets in, he gives me a huge hug, and I feel my chest well with emotion.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I manage. “Thank you.”

  “I will always be here. You’re going to get through this. You are.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re at the dog shelter and walking down a long hall lined with metal cages full of dogs. We’ve let Simon in on our plan, and now he’s even happier that he came up. The barking sounds jubilant to my ears, and I can hardly hear Faith, the woman who stops periodically to tell us about some of the dogs. She’s the one who helped Esben earlier today with the puppy, and she was immediately receptive to my idea. We’re going to take pictures of the dogs and post them with information about how special each one is, in hopes of encouraging adoption. My goal is to get people to think outside the box and look past what may not initially be the cutest pet possibility. While Faith is gushing over how fabulous Esben is, I give him a wink and move down the hall to look in the pens.

  I stop in front of a giant dog with shaggy gray fur. His legs are too long, his coat is a weird color, and his snout is awfully long and out of proportion to his face. This is not an attractive dog, and I love him immediately. The beast sits in the corner of his pen, and behind wisps of fur, I see dark, sad eyes. I see dejection. When I bend down and call for him, he doesn’t even come over to me. Worse, he looks away. I read the printout that hangs from the fencing.

  “Esben.” I stand and call more loudly over the barking. “This one. Let’s start with this guy.”

  He nods, and Faith comes over with a leash. “You guys can take them outside if you like. Better lighting probably. So, this is Bruce Wayne,” she says with a wistful look. “We give the dogs fun names in hopes of attracting adopters. It sounds silly, but it helps. He’s very shy. B
een with us for two years and, before that, at another shelter for four. He’s nine now, and . . .” Faith stops for a second. “No one has ever asked to take him out. It breaks my heart. I love this guy, and I’d take him if I could, but I already have five dogs at home. He needs a break.”

  “Can I take him out?” I ask.

  “Sure. He’s very nervous, so give him a few minutes, but he’s really gentle.”

  I look at Simon for encouragement, and he nods. “You know how to do this. I know you do.”

  He’s right. I understand this dog too much. It’s almost heartbreakingly pathetic how much.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Esben raise his phone to capture whatever will happen.

  The door to Bruce’s area swings open, and I lower my body slowly and then inch in, keeping close to the entrance. “Hey, Bruce,” I say softly. “Hi, buddy.” He doesn’t respond, so I sit down and lean against the concrete wall. “That’s okay. I’ll just wait for you.”

  And I do. For a long time. Every few minutes, Bruce glances at me briefly, then turns away. But then I inch a tiny bit closer, say a few soft words, and wait some more. I will do this all day if necessary. When I am about two feet from him, the dog finally turns his body slightly my way. Then, without warning, Bruce lurches toward me. For a moment, I’m afraid this giant is going to bite my face off, but instead he tries to climb into my lap. He’s so huge that I can barely accommodate his size, but I do what I can. Bruce leans his weight against me, and I start to laugh while petting him. He’s smelly and ungainly and utterly sweet. I rest my face against his stinky fur and will this sweet dog to feel how loved he is, how worthy he is. Bruce starts wagging his tail.

  “I can’t believe this,” Faith says, and she slowly comes in and hands me the leash. “He hasn’t wagged his tail since he’s been here. Not once. You’ve got a magic touch.”

  I rub Bruce’s ears and slip the leash around his neck. His wagging intensifies when I stand and start to lead him out. I look at Simon with disbelief, and his face mirrors my feelings.

  “Well, let’s go for a walk, shall we?” he says.

  Bruce practically drags me down the hall as we follow Faith outside, and I’m laughing with delight as we enter the shelter’s good-sized penned area. I wish the leash was a little longer, because crazy Bruce is now hopping around in some kind of celebration. I pet him again, and then he drops onto his back for a belly rub. This is all so odd, the parallels between Bruce’s sad life and mine. Though I really can’t imagine I wasn’t adopted because of my looks, Bruce and I do share something in common: nobody wanted us. Truly, and for no good reason, nobody wanted us. Both of us started out so eager and hungry, and over the years, we grew more and more dejected. It was hard for people to look past that. I get it.

  But I have learned from their mistakes, and I know this dog has heart underneath his outward damage.

  “Simon? He’s a sweet guy, huh? He’s not a dog that most people would look at, but he’s kinda special, right?”

  Simon kneels down. “He is. Check him out. There was a really happy pup hidden in there, huh? Aren’t you a sweet thing? Just a big boy who was a little down, huh? You feeling better now? Yeah?” He begins cooing and scratching Bruce’s stomach. “Allison reminded you that you get to be loved, just like everyone else, huh? Did she?”

  For the next ten minutes, we goof around with Bruce, and both Simon and I pose for pictures, hoping to show Esben’s followers how wonderful this dog is.

  “Posted!” Esben says happily. “Between that video and the pictures, this dog will be adopted in a heartbeat. I put up a shot of his fact sheet, too. Okay, we’ve got a ton more dogs to photograph, so, want to keep—”

  “Esben?” Simon says with a tone I can’t figure out. “I think you’re going to need to edit that post.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask him.

  But then I know. And I shake my head over how fantastic Simon is.

  “Because,” Simon says as he stands proudly, his eyes still glued on Bruce, “Mr. Bruce Wayne has already been adopted. If the shelter approves me, that is.”

  Faith grins. “I’ll start the paperwork.”

  I kneel down and pet Bruce more. “Simon, are you sure? You don’t have to do this. You really want a big old dog? One you have to drive home in your new Porsche?”

  “I do. There’s no way I’m letting this guy go after what I saw. He’ll look very cool riding next to me. And who knows? Maybe he’ll turn out to be a man magnet, and I’ll be flooded with dates.” He bends down next to me and touches my shoulder. “And we need some cheer. Things are rough now, but they’re going to get rougher.”

  He’s right. I know that Simon is hurting over Steffi, too.

  “Our family just got a little bigger.” He tries to give me a reassuring smile. “Strength in numbers.”

  Simon poses for a picture with a drooling Bruce, and Esben shares the photo online: #brucegoeshome #girlfriendallisonsfather #victoryissweet

  Later, when I am making a silly face while holding a rat terrier that looks more rat than terrier, Esben takes a bunch of pictures and then checks to see the comments on his feed. “People are loving these!”

  “Yeah?” Simon is throwing a ball that Bruce has no interest in chasing.

  “Uh, Simon?” Esben is grinning. “You seem to be gaining quite the fan club.”

  “I am?”

  “Check Facebook.”

  Simon pulls out his phone. “I have fifty-eight friend requests! And . . . ten messages.”

  “You’ve been tagged hotdad a whole bunch,” Esben says with a laugh.

  “Great. A bunch of women, probably.” Simon fake pouts.

  “Um . . . I don’t think so.” Esben waves his phone around. “A lot of comments from guys. And some cute ones, too.”

  “Really?” For the first time in an hour, Simon steps away from our new dog. “I’m going to have to do a little investigating, it seems.”

  I sit with more dogs than I can count, I smile more than I have in the past three weeks, and I am overcome with the feeling that I might do some good for all of these deserving animals. This process makes me understand Esben even more. Helping others can help me heal myself.

  While Esben is posting the last photo, one of me with an outstandingly cute yellow Labrador—one who has not been adopted without any discernible reason—I lean against him. “That Lab? That dog is a sweetheart. I hate this. I hate that she’s been so alone. But I know that we’re going to find her a family because of this. She’s going to be loved, and she’ll feel that love, and she will forget her past. I know that.” I breathe him in. “I feel so much better. Thank you.”

  “This was your deal, my sweets. This is all you.” He swings his arm over me and keeps me close.

  “There. One day down,” I state with as much pride and courage as I can muster. “Now I just have to get through the rest of them.”

  “We’ll do this every day if you want,” Esben promises. “For as long as you need to.”

  We might have to. I cannot fathom how I will survive the days that lead to the call.

  The call in which I’ll be told that Steffi has died.

  CHAPTER 26

  SOCIAL DESTRUCTION

  By the second week in March, the weather begins to lift, and it’s a good way to kick off spring break. Simon and I were going to take a trip to Washington, DC, and do touristy stuff together, but there’s a massive airline strike involving most of the major airlines, and we lost our flights. Although I’m disappointed, I’m also exhausted from late nights of research and paper writing, so I don’t mind some downtime here at school. Simon wanted me to come home and stay with him, but I think he understands that I just want to lie around here and sleep for a week.

  Esben and Kerry are driving home tomorrow, and I’m going to be in the minority staying on campus during break, but I’m actually looking forward to the quiet. This is a desire for healthy alone time, unlike it would have been last year, and I??
?m proud of my progress.

  Esben has been furiously clicking away on his laptop, and I glance up from my collapsed spot on the bed to see what he’s doing. He’s leaning against the wall, with my legs over his, and by the stern face he’s making, I know he’s in a mood of sorts. I shut my eyes and take a few more minutes to recover from this week. Both of us have been stressed out, although I’m not sure exactly what’s been going on with him. He seemed to sail through the two big tests he had this week, yet something has been getting under his skin over the past month. Just traces here and there, but enough for me to notice. I’ve tried asking him, but he’s assured me up and down that nothing is wrong.

  I’m not convinced.

  Apparently, I’ve fallen asleep, because I’m jolted awake when Kerry simultaneously knocks and bursts through the door. “Hello, my darlings! What’s shakin’?”

  It takes a minute for me to respond. “Hey, Kerry.” I rub my eyes and yawn. “You look happy.”

  She gives a twirl. “I am. I’m all in love and swoony and feeling full of life and all that corny stuff.” She throws a sidelong peek at Esben, who has not looked up from his screen, and then raises her eyebrows at me. “I was hoping for some girl talk.”

  “Sure,” I say with a stretch. “Give me a minute.”

  “What’s up with grumpy there?” she asks.

  It takes a few nudges to draw his attention away. “Yeah? What? Oh, hi, Kerry. Sorry.”

  “Hiya, Baby Blue.” Kerry puts a hand on her hip. “Why so pissy?”

  “It’s just . . . I didn’t understand how much crap you filtered out online.”

  “What do you mean?” She sits in my desk chair and frowns.

  His neck cracks as he rolls his head. “You haven’t been deleting comments and banning and blocking people the way you used to.”

  “Oh.” Her face drops. “I didn’t realize. God, Esben, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I knew that you’ve been pulling back, and that’s fine. You’re . . . preoccupied or whatever with Jason. And I get it. It’s cool. I’m just getting up to speed on a lot of posts from the past few months, and . . . I’m seeing so much more now,” he says with little expression. “I didn’t realize the scale . . . the level of vitriol.” He shakes his head with an awful sense of understanding. “The absolute expanse of it. It’s too much. It’s really just too much.”