Strays (19 page)

Ashley was right. What had started out as a punishment had turned out to be a gift.

I wanted more time with her. “Hey, want to join us at Lighthouse? We're all going for a swim.”

“Sure! I'd love to. Just have to run home and get my suit. Should I invite Sierra? She leaves for college in three days.”

I hesitated for a moment, wondering if we could go back to being who we were as a group, but I wanted to give them a chance to get to know the real me.

“Yeah, I'd like that,” I said.

Dad sat back and waited for me to say my good-byes to my friends and to Kevin before approaching me. Dad was wearing board shorts, and his hair was slicked back, wet.

“You did great up there,” he said.

“Thanks.”

We looked at each other for a while—two people not knowing what to say.

“You smell like fish,” I said, recognizing the saltwater smell on his body.

He nodded with a big grin across his face.

“You were in the ocean?” I asked.

“I needed to think. It's where she always did her best thinking. I thought I'd try it out.”

“And? How did it go?”

“I found her today. In the water,” he said.

I thought about how I had felt swimming in the ocean with Talbot. Mom had been everywhere then, and Dad had just experienced the exact same feeling.

“She's not gone,” he said, trying to convince me.

“I know.” I didn't know why it always took him longer to get things.

“I haven't been very good to you.”

“Dad,” I interrupted.

“No, hear me out. I acted like I knew everything, like my way was the only way. Like I was perfect. I'm far from it, Iris. I'm just slogging through who to be without your mother around. I was so focused on that loss that I took for granted the fact that you were still right here. I'm so sorry. I'm so very sorry.”

And then my father did something I'd only seen him do once, on the day of my mother's funeral. He cried. And I did the only thing I could think of; I leaned in toward him and wrapped my arms around him and held him tight.

It was good to see him acting like a human rather than a working robot.

“I got a job,” he said, when he finally calmed down enough to talk.

“You did? Where?”

“It's no big deal. I'll be shelving inventory at a bulk sale store on Ocean. The pay isn't great, but the hours aren't as crazy, which means I'll have a lot more time to spend with you, if you want to.”

“I would like that,” I said.

“And I'm paying you back, for everything. Every time I get a paycheck, a quarter of it is going to go to you. It may take some time, but I promise to have it all back to you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” I said.

“It looks like someone's waiting for you.”

I turned to see where he was pointing. Oak was leaning against a cypress tree, watching us.

“Yeah, I should go.”

“He looks like a nice dude.”

“Dad, no one says ‘dude' anymore, but yeah, he is nice. You'll like him.”

“I'm real proud of you, Iris. Your mom would be, too.”

I nodded and wondered if Mom would have gotten over her fear of dogs if she had seen me go through a program like this.

“I'm making dinner tonight. Cheeseburgers on the grill. You can invite your friend if you want.”

“Can you make it veggie burgers?” I asked. I hadn't realized until that moment that since I started working with the dogs I had been avoiding consuming any sort of animal, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Are you going vegetarian on me?” he asked.

“You should try it,” I said.

“I just might do that,” said my dad.

I couldn't believe that my choice might actually have an influence on the way he ate.

“See you later?”

“Yup,” I said, giving Dad one last hug before joining Oak.

“That looked intense,” Oak said.

“Beyond intense.”

“You okay?”

“I will be.” I put my hand in his. “Oh, by the way, are you good with spackle and a paintbrush?”

“I guess.”

“Good, then you're coming over for dinner tonight,” I told him. After we ate, I would ask Oak to help me patch up all of the gashes on my closet wall. These were my scars. It was time to let them heal.

“Oh, am I?” He pressed his body against mine and kissed me on the lips. A wonderful zing flew through my body. It was a feeling the opposite of rage, equally electric and overpowering.

“Ready for a swim?” I asked as he opened the passenger door for me.

“To the ocean, Ms. Moody.”

I hopped in his car, and as we wound south along the cliffs, I looked out over the glistening Pacific, the endless ocean that made my world seem vast and unpredictable and full of possibility.

I
t is the middle of February. I have planted myself in the corner of the library, wearing a wool sweater I bought in a secondhand store in Santa Cruz when I went back for winter break.

I'm not in Rhode Island but in Seattle, studying animal psychology at the University of Washington. It's not snowing out, as I'd hoped it would be in my library fantasy, but the rain falls in thick sheets, lulling me into a focused trance. If I allow myself to get distracted enough, I go through a running list of assignments I have to complete for my British literature course (I'm minoring in English).

Dad has a new job as a restaurant manager. It's not quite what he wants to be doing, but it's paying the bills, and each month, like he promised, part of his check goes straight to my savings account.

Oak is living in San Jose, working for some bigwig computer company. We're still seeing each other when we can, over my vacation breaks. He said he'd be able to come up and visit sometime in April, which really isn't too far off.

But mostly, when my mind wanders from cognitive behavior, it goes straight to Roman, whom I picture running along a beach somewhere, off-leash, sniffing the sand, dampening his nose in the ocean, and slowly learning to trust the world again.

Grateful acknowledgment is extended to my editors at Ashland Creek Press, Midge Raymond and John Yunker.

I'd like to thank each of these people for their part in helping me make this book: Andrea Quaid, Sheila Clark, Albert Mikulencak, Melissa Clark, Ron Clark, Lurie Strand, Lael Smith, and Lily Ng.

Special thanks to my husband, Basil, and my two boys, Peter and Phoenix, for their love, constant support, and enthusiasm.

The project was made possible in part by a grant from the Center for Cultural Innovation.

Photo credit: Elizabeth Daniels

Jennifer Caloyeras
holds a M.A. in English literature from Cal State Los Angeles and an M.F.A. in creative writing through the University of British Columbia. She is the author of the young adult novel
Urban Falcon
, and her short stories have appeared in a variety of literary magazines, including
Booth
and
Storm Cellar
. She is the dog columnist for the
Los Feliz Ledger
. Jennifer lives in Los Angeles with her husband and two sons.

Ashland Creek Press is an independent publisher of books with a world view. Our mission is to publish a range of books that foster an appreciation for worlds outside our own, for nature and the animal kingdom, for the creative process, and for the ways in which we all connect. To keep up-to-date on new and forthcoming works, subscribe to our free newsletter by visiting
www.AshlandCreekPress.com
.