Buddy (19 page)

“He's a special dog,” she says.

“Did you get him that new leg yourself?” Daddy says.

She nods. “Brian insisted.”

“All those homeless dogs,” Daddy says. “Why did you choose Buddy?”

“Brian loved him.”

All a sudden, I don't want my cold drink. I set it down on the counter and push it away. I walk down the hall toward our room. Buddy's laying on the floor by a shut door. His tail thumps as I pass but he don't get up. I go in my room and close the door.

It's a long time before Daddy knocks. It's already getting dark.

“Did that trip wear you out?” he says.

“I guess.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed.

“She's firing up the grill,” he says. “She's cooking us a steak.”

I don't say nothing.

“What's the matter, son?”

I turn over and look at him. “Brian loves Buddy,” I say.

Daddy looks out the skinny, little window to one side of the room. “What did you expect, Li'l T?” he says.

“But Buddy's my dog,” I say. “Brian can't love him.” I turn back over and put the pillow over my head.

“He can love him, and he does,” Daddy says. “I don't see what you're so surprised about. It said so right in that letter. Did you think they were lying when they wrote that part?”

I just lay there breathing into my pillow. I can smell the grill in the backyard. I can hear the lady chopping something in the kitchen.

After a while, the mattress jiggles when Daddy stands up.

Then I turn over and look at him. “But Daddy,” I say, “do you think Buddy loves him back?”

Daddy don't say nothing. He just turns around and walks out the door.

36

The room gets darker and darker. I hear Buddy clicking around on the tile floor. I hear that sliding door off the back go
whush
when it opens and closes. I wonder why there ain't no ceiling fans, hot as it is.

Then Daddy knocks on the door and comes in again. “Get up,” he says. “We're eating.”

“I ain't hungry.”

“You're eating anyway,” he says. “Wash your hands. Then come out here and act like you know how to behave.”

Daddy shuts the door and I lay there a minute.

What if I don't?
I think. What if I open the door a tiny crack and call Buddy real soft and he comes running and sliding down the hall to me? What if I pull him into the room and tell him, “Sh, sh,” and his tail is thumping away while I'm rubbing the sides of his head and scratching up under his chin? What if I open that skinny, little window and climb out and take Buddy with me and we sneak around the house while they're all standing in the back around the grill? And then we sneak down that curvy street to the road where that side of the mountain is all caved in? And we keep climbing until we get to some woods? And then we—

I tell my head to shut up. That's crazy thinking. What am I going to do all by myself in the woods of California with a three-legged dog? What is my daddy going to do when he finds me gone? What is my mama going to say when he calls her on the telephone?

I'm standing in front of the mirror. I stare at myself. I wash my hands and I go outside.

That lady knows how to cook a steak. We eat that steak and a salad all full of tomatoes and some other stuff I ain't never heard of. The whole time we're eating, Daddy's telling her about Katrina and New Orleans. She wants to know everything. She wants to know where we went and what the storm sounded like and what color the water was when we tried to get home. She listens so quiet while Daddy tells about the first time we got back to the house. He tells about the
X
painted on the front and how we went up the stairs and what the bathroom looked like and how there was a note but it was so faded we couldn't read it. She don't move when Daddy tells about how we got home and Granpa T passed that very night.

After Daddy tells it all, we sit quiet for a while and look up at the sky. That sky is big in California. There ain't no trees or tall houses where she lives. You lay on your back on the grass in their yard and you look up and all you see is sky. Sky and stars.

Before long, they all go inside and I'm still laying there looking up. I'm getting cold even though it's summer but I don't want to get up. Then Buddy comes wandering over just like before. He lays down beside me and puts his head on my stomach just like he used to do in the shed.

I put my hand on the top of his head and smooth back his fur. His tail goes
thump
.

“The shed is gone,” I tell him. “When we get back, you'll see it's just a heap of wood laying in the corner of the yard.”

His tail goes
thump, thump
, and I keep talking. “And that bathroom. Buddy, you sure tore up that bathroom. It don't matter, though, because we had to rip it all out anyway. The water got up under the tile. All the floorboards were starting to rot.

“So I don't have to repaint that door after all. I'm going to have to paint the brand-new door instead. When we get it. We're about to finish Mama and Daddy's room. Then we're going to do the bathroom. When we've got the bathroom finished, the rest of them are going to move in with me and Daddy. We'll all be together again.

“And you'll be there, too, Buddy. It'll be just like before. Just exactly like before.

“Almost.”

I'm looking up at the sky. It's as black as Buddy's fur and full of stars.

“Granpa T passed, Buddy. Did you hear Daddy saying about that? We were all sitting there in the living room of that little apartment talking about his house, and he passed, just like that. We didn't even notice. How long do you suppose he was gone before any of us even looked his way?”

I rub Buddy's ears and he shifts his head on my stomach.

“I'm thinking he went to his place and when it came time for him to come on back, he just said, ‘No.' He just said, ‘I ain't doing it. I'm too tired.' He ain't never going to say you're ugly again, Buddy. He ain't never going to say you stink.”

I stare up at those stars for a while. Then I go on. “So I'm getting his room. My own room. When that room's done, you can sleep with me. I'll tell Mama she has to let you. I'll tell her there ain't no shed anymore and you got used to sleeping inside at this house here in California. I'll tell her that's what you've got to have now.

“And we've got to keep you away from Baby Terrell. He's walking all over the place now, and he's learned how to hit things. He whacked me with his toy train just the other day. I've still got a sore place on my head.

“And Tanya,” I say. “I bet you miss her singing. She's learning lots of words now so she's getting better. People say she sings like a bird. She liked singing to you, Buddy. You listened. You ain't like Rover.”

And then I stop.

I don't know what to tell Buddy about Rover. I think about it while I look at the stars.

“I've got to explain about Rover,” I say. “He ain't a grown-up dog like you. He ain't got no sense. He runs all over the place. He jumps on people. He's got short hair and it's white and brown. He likes to catch rats. I'm teaching him not to put them on the porch. And we're working on the jumping-on-people part. When he learns—”

I stop again. I need to think some more.

“I didn't ask for Rover,” I finally explain to Buddy. “Santa Claus brought him. It wasn't part of any plan. Not like with you. You were meant to be my dog, Buddy.”

I bend my eyes down toward his face.

All I can see in the dark is his eyes, shining back at me.

“It was meant to be, wasn't it, Buddy?” I say to him, and his tail goes
thump
.

When it's late, the lady says it's time for bed. She says our plane don't leave until the afternoon but there are all kinds of things we've got to do to get Buddy ready for his trip.

We go inside the dark house and Buddy goes
click-click
ing down the hall. I'm thinking he's going to the bed in our room now, but he goes in Brian's room instead.

I follow him. Brian's already sitting on his bed. He helps Buddy up. Buddy curls up on one side. Brian looks up and sees me.

“Does he sleep with you every night?” I say.

Brian nods.

“What about that big old dog bed?”

Brian shrugs. “He likes my bed better.”

I watch Buddy shift his head a little on his paws. Brian reaches out a hand and smooths Buddy's head. Then he turns and looks at me, “I would never leave Buddy,” he says. “Never. No matter what. I would die first.”

I spin around and go in our room and slam the door.

That's the longest night I ever lived in my life. I can't go to sleep for thinking. I want to go in Brian's room and smack his face. I want to sneak out the door and disappear. When I finally go to sleep, all I can dream about is Buddy in that room snuggled up against that white boy who stole my dog.

Daddy shakes me awake before light. He says to wake up. There's a problem. He don't move off my bed. He sits there listening. I'm listening, too. The sounds in the house ain't right. Somebody's choking. There's a bang on the floor and then Buddy's paws going
click, click, click
down the hall.

Daddy stands up and opens the door real quiet. He's peering this way and that. Then the lady's bedroom door slams back and she comes tearing down the hall and whips into Brian's room with Buddy limping behind her.

“Brian!” she's saying. “Brian!”

Then me and Daddy are both running down the hall.

Brian's laying on his bed with his arms and legs jerking and his eyes rolled up in his head.

“Sweet Jesus,” Daddy says.

“It's a seizure,” the lady says real fast. “He gets them. Buddy tells me.”

She sits down beside him. She's singing at him like he's a baby. “It's okay now,” she's singing. “Mommy's here, sweetheart. It's okay.”

Brian keeps on jerking. He whams his hand on the headboard. She grabs it and wipes the blood off. She's pushing the covers out of his way so he don't get tangled in them.

“Shouldn't we call the doctor?” Daddy says.

“No,” she says. “He'll be okay. This happens.”

I look and there's Buddy, standing by the bed watching Brian jerk. Buddy's whining a little bit. He's poking his nose at Brian's foot where it's hanging off the bed.

“Good dog,” the lady says.

And then Brian's still. He turns his eyes to his mama like he's exhausted. “It's okay,” she says. “Go on to sleep now. You're fine.”

She helps Buddy climb back up on the bed and he snuggles up next to Brian. He licks Brian's face and rests his head on Brian's stomach. Brian puts his hand on Buddy's back and closes his eyes. Buddy looks up at us and blinks.

The lady stands up and we all go out. She shuts off the light.

“He'll sleep now,” she says. She looks at Daddy and tries to smile. “Good night. Thank you.”

Me and Daddy go back in our room. We climb back in our beds. We lay there in the dark waiting for the light.