we’re all pretty fucking amazing.”
Nix and I looked at her with open mouths. “Did you just say—” Nix leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper, “—the f-word?”
She blushed. “Just because I don’t use it as a verb, adjective and every other form of speech like you guys do, doesn’t mean I can’t say it once in awhile. And when I use it, it has much more impact because it’s rare. Your faces a few seconds ago proved my point perfectly.”
“O.K. now I’m going to have to take you home because I’m completely turned on,” Nix said.
I laughed. “Please, you’re turned on when she sneezes.”
“Uh, can we drop this topic?” Scotlyn pleaded.
“Sorry, Sweetie.” Nix stood. “I’ve got to get back to the shop. Some guy is coming in to get his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his arm.”
I smiled. “Cassie was sure right about that.” And then a depressing thought occurred to me. Nix seemed to know what I was thinking.
“It wasn’t because she was planning to leave you,” Nix said abruptly before the full idea could take shape in my head. “I don’t think she had ever planned to leave you. Cassie was always superstitious about stuff. She was always knocking three times on the counter, and she’d freak out if I tossed salt onto my fries without throwing some over my shoulder. She just thought it would be bad luck.”
I gulped back the rest of my beer. The can smacked the table as I plunked it down. “Turns out she was right, at least for me. Maybe we should do the tattoo this week. I can’t seem to turn off the flow of bad luck.”
“Just let me know,” Nix said.
I got up and walked them to the door. Scotlyn hugged me tightly for a long time. No one knew hardship and heartbreak more than her, and you could feel it in every hug, every touch. “And I expect you to come with us to the street fair on Saturday. So be ready.”
“Yeah? I don’t know. Maybe.”
Nix gave me a quick hug. “Take it easy on that hand.”
They stepped up onto the dock and I shut the door. A dense silence snaked around the cabin, and being alone brought back some of the darkness that had filled my head the last few days.
Outside the sun had made a couple of good attempts to break through, but it seemed the gloomy sky was here to stay and it fit my mood. The deck of the boat lifted up and down with the storm rattled tide. I walked out to the bow and leaned against the railing. The chill in the air was a nice change from the blistering heat of the last few weeks. The water beneath the bow was black and frothy. Small waves curled up over the dock and washed across the worn wood planks.
Piranha Pete’s curly little tail flicked in the air as the dog trotted along the dock patrolling for any unsuspecting ankles. A noise pulled my attention to the stern. A fat, gray seagull had landed with his catch, and the bird quickly sucked in the tiny fish before any other birds came to steal it.
Someone yelled and I turned back around. The dog was no longer on the dock, and Charlie had dropped to his knees. He was hanging over the edge of the pier reaching desperately toward the water. Pete’s thin paws paddled frantically trying to get hold of something solid. His little round head disappeared beneath the water and then surfaced again.
“Oh my God, Pete, no!” Charlie cried.
I yanked off my shirt and shoes. The water looked cold, dark and completely uninviting. Not wanting to land on the dog, I jumped in close to the boat. My head popped up above the surface. “Fuck that’s cold.” I reached for Pete, and his two front paws finally found something solid to grab hold of, my forearm. His claws dug deep into my skin. They were as sharp as a cat’s, and I held my breath against the pain. If I panicked it would only make his claws go deeper.
“Over here,” an anxious voice cried down to me from the dock. Cassie knelt down and reached for the dog.
Waves slapped my face and salt water stung my eyes as I
Nix and I looked at her with open mouths. “Did you just say—” Nix leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper, “—the f-word?”
She blushed. “Just because I don’t use it as a verb, adjective and every other form of speech like you guys do, doesn’t mean I can’t say it once in awhile. And when I use it, it has much more impact because it’s rare. Your faces a few seconds ago proved my point perfectly.”
“O.K. now I’m going to have to take you home because I’m completely turned on,” Nix said.
I laughed. “Please, you’re turned on when she sneezes.”
“Uh, can we drop this topic?” Scotlyn pleaded.
“Sorry, Sweetie.” Nix stood. “I’ve got to get back to the shop. Some guy is coming in to get his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his arm.”
I smiled. “Cassie was sure right about that.” And then a depressing thought occurred to me. Nix seemed to know what I was thinking.
“It wasn’t because she was planning to leave you,” Nix said abruptly before the full idea could take shape in my head. “I don’t think she had ever planned to leave you. Cassie was always superstitious about stuff. She was always knocking three times on the counter, and she’d freak out if I tossed salt onto my fries without throwing some over my shoulder. She just thought it would be bad luck.”
I gulped back the rest of my beer. The can smacked the table as I plunked it down. “Turns out she was right, at least for me. Maybe we should do the tattoo this week. I can’t seem to turn off the flow of bad luck.”
“Just let me know,” Nix said.
I got up and walked them to the door. Scotlyn hugged me tightly for a long time. No one knew hardship and heartbreak more than her, and you could feel it in every hug, every touch. “And I expect you to come with us to the street fair on Saturday. So be ready.”
“Yeah? I don’t know. Maybe.”
Nix gave me a quick hug. “Take it easy on that hand.”
They stepped up onto the dock and I shut the door. A dense silence snaked around the cabin, and being alone brought back some of the darkness that had filled my head the last few days.
Outside the sun had made a couple of good attempts to break through, but it seemed the gloomy sky was here to stay and it fit my mood. The deck of the boat lifted up and down with the storm rattled tide. I walked out to the bow and leaned against the railing. The chill in the air was a nice change from the blistering heat of the last few weeks. The water beneath the bow was black and frothy. Small waves curled up over the dock and washed across the worn wood planks.
Piranha Pete’s curly little tail flicked in the air as the dog trotted along the dock patrolling for any unsuspecting ankles. A noise pulled my attention to the stern. A fat, gray seagull had landed with his catch, and the bird quickly sucked in the tiny fish before any other birds came to steal it.
Someone yelled and I turned back around. The dog was no longer on the dock, and Charlie had dropped to his knees. He was hanging over the edge of the pier reaching desperately toward the water. Pete’s thin paws paddled frantically trying to get hold of something solid. His little round head disappeared beneath the water and then surfaced again.
“Oh my God, Pete, no!” Charlie cried.
I yanked off my shirt and shoes. The water looked cold, dark and completely uninviting. Not wanting to land on the dog, I jumped in close to the boat. My head popped up above the surface. “Fuck that’s cold.” I reached for Pete, and his two front paws finally found something solid to grab hold of, my forearm. His claws dug deep into my skin. They were as sharp as a cat’s, and I held my breath against the pain. If I panicked it would only make his claws go deeper.
“Over here,” an anxious voice cried down to me from the dock. Cassie knelt down and reached for the dog.
Waves slapped my face and salt water stung my eyes as I
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