by Kim Fielding
Elliott and Simon texted a few times. Simon checked on his protégé and complained about his physiotherapist, who he claimed could have had a promising career doing wet work for the CIA. Elliott shared some of his students’ more egregious manglings of the English language.
Midafternoon, Elliott and Ishtar went for a walk. Due to the warm October weather, a lot of people were out and about, which pleased Ishtar immensely. She liked everyone but was especially drawn to children. When a young boy, maybe two or three years old, came running over, Ishtar dropped to her belly so he could pet her. When he tried to climb on her back, his mother peeled him off, which seemed to disappoint both child and dog. The only thing Ishtar didn’t like, it turned out, was lawn sprinklers. She gave them a wide berth. Maybe she disapproved of such flagrant disregard of the city’s watering restrictions.
When the doorbell rang shortly before six, Ishtar sprang to her feet and barked energetically, ruining much of Elliott’s surprise before he even answered the door. Still, Ladd and Anna gaped at her once they were inside, Ladd holding a carton of ice cream over his head like an offering to a sky god.
“A dog!” he said.
“Ishtar,” said Elliott, as if that explained everything. He took the carton and waved them further inside. Ladd remained near the entryway, looking dubious, but Anna sat down on the carpet and almost immediately had most of Ishtar in her lap. They both seemed thrilled.
“You got a dog,” said Ladd. Very slowly, sounding unsure.
“Simon got her for me. I was pissed off for about three seconds because I didn’t think I wanted a pet, but look. How could I not fall in love?” Proving Elliott’s point, Ishtar licked Anna’s chin.
Elliott hurried off to stick the ice cream in the freezer. By the time he returned, Ladd was on the floor beside Anna, and Ishtar was stretched out between them. It looked like an awkward position, yet Ishtar showed no intention of moving.
“She’s friendly,” Elliott said. Which was slightly obvious.
At their prompting, he told them Ishtar’s story. He was starting to think he should just write down her biography and hand out copies, complete with her paw print as a signature. Anna and Ladd made sympathetic noises over the sad parts, and Ishtar played it up, begging for more petting as consolation.
Eventually, though, Ladd looked over at Elliott. “How serious are you and this guy? I mean, a dog—it’s not an engagement ring, but it’s not a box of chocolates either.”
“I don’t know. I . . . like him. A lot. He likes me. But we have complications.”
“He still hasn’t told the parents, huh?”
“No. And I’m still job hunting, so . . .”
Seemingly content to leave it at that, Ladd shrugged. “Need some help with dinner?”
“Nah. I’ll just go throw the steaks on.”
His attempt at grilling wasn’t a complete success. The meat ended up a little too charred on the outside and too raw in the middle. But it tasted good anyway, especially when eaten outdoors. It was nice to sit in the backyard, chewing on steak, using the patio furniture he usually neglected, and watching Ishtar streak around in the growing darkness. Anna talked about some aggravations at work; Ladd and Elliott exchanged horror stories from teaching.
“We should get a dog,” Anna said when Ishtar dropped a soggy ball at Elliott’s feet. Elliott tossed it across the lawn, sending her racing at full speed. “You outgrew your allergies, Ladd.”
“Yeah, I did. But with both of us gone all day? That won’t work very well.”
“We could get a teeny tiny dog, and I’ll take her to work in my purse. Or we can get a breed that lies around all day.”
“The legendary Couch Potato Hound?”
“Yes.”
She dropped the subject after that, but her expression remained so speculative that Elliott suspected Ishtar might soon have a canine cousin. And why not? Ishtar would be pleased, and Elliott wouldn’t mind a bit of family expansion, regardless of species.
Family. Every time he thought the word, he remembered that Simon was faced with losing his. It wasn’t fair.
“What’s wrong, El?” That was Ladd, his voice low and concerned.
“Nothing. Just internally railing against injustice.”
“Ugh. Well, good luck with that. You’ve got yourself a really nice roommate, at least.” Ladd grinned. “Never thought you’d end up living with a girl.”
“I never thought I’d end up living with anyone.” Elliott snorted. “Ishtar’s a lot more forgiving than a human would be.”
Anna had been chasing a last bit of macaroni salad around her plate. “Ishtar. Wasn’t that a movie?”
Elliott nodded. He’d heard of it but had never seen it. He’d googled the film the previous day. “Dustin Hoffman and Warren Beatty. It bombed.”
“Oh. Too bad. Well, this Ishtar’s a winner for sure.”
They went inside for ice cream and tea. Ladd and Anna had to wake up early for work, but they showered Ishtar with adoration before they left.
“I’d like to meet Simon some time,” said Ladd. “He sounds like a catch.”
Elliott gave a wry smile. “That’s part of my worry. I was never any good at playing ball.”
***
There was something unsettling about Tuesday. Maybe it was the weather. The barometric pressure had dropped suddenly, bringing colder temperatures and threatening clouds. Ishtar seemed slightly restless too, even after a long run. She had trouble getting comfortable on her bed, and even once she was settled, she kept getting up to wander over and rest her chin in Elliott’s lap.
“Already having adoptee’s remorse?” he asked, although he knew that wasn’t the case. She fit into the household as if she’d been there for years, and she rarely wanted to leave his side. Maybe she was just picking up on his unease, the weird feeling that something might jump out of the shadows and bite him.
So perhaps he could be excused for startling wildly when his phone rang as he was sitting down to lunch. He recognized the area code as Nebraska.
“Hello?”
“Hi! Elliott Thompson? This is Ginny Holmes from NSU.”
It was fortunate he had water nearby, because his throat went desert dry. “Hi, Ginny.”
“I’m calling because we’d like to bring you to campus for an interview. Assuming you’re still interested in us, of course.”
“That’s great! I’m definitely interested.” He hoped he was striking the right balance between enthusiasm and nonchalance, but his heart was beating so furiously he was sure she could hear it.
“Great! Our bureaucratic wheels spin slowly here, and by the time we get all the approvals, we’ll be hitting the holidays. So we’d like to bring you out when spring semester begins. The week of January fourteenth?”
Nebraska in January. He was going to have to buy suitable winter wear. “That sounds great.”
They chatted for a few minutes about the details of his visit, then sidetracked into a short discussion about weather. Apparently they were expecting a Halloween blizzard, which was unusual for them but not unprecedented. Ginny laughed when she learned that children in Modesto were moaning about the next day’s rain forecast. “I suppose you don’t get much weather there,” she said.
“Only if you count baking heat in summer as weather.”
“Oh, we get hot too,” she said cheerfully. “But we like to pair it with high humidity!”
By the time he hung up, Elliott discovered his appetite had fled, and his stomach was apparently under the impression it was on board a ship during a hurricane. He wrapped up his sandwich and salad and put them in the fridge, then leaned back against the counter and looked solemnly at Ishtar. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”
She wagged her tail as if encouraging him to continue.
“You know, when I was finishing up grad school, I got several phone interviews and three campus interviews. Three. Two of those schools ended up offering me a job. John only worked at one of them, but
he liked to take credit anyway. He said his glowing recommendations got me in. But I think I got the offers because I’m a good scholar and a good instructor.”
Ishtar meandered over to him, then plopped down on top of his feet. She was a good listener.
“So the people at NSU know about the scandal—and know I’m gay—and want to meet me. That’s good. I think I can impress them.” With some difficulty, he pulled his feet from under Ishtar, then slid down the base cabinets until he was sitting next to her. He buried his face in her neck. “Do I want to impress them?” he whispered into her fur.
She didn’t answer, which was only fair considering he didn’t know either. Ever since leaving his last job, he’d been dreaming of a new tenure-track appointment the way some people dreamed of winning the lottery. Metaphorically speaking, he’d continued buying his tickets, week after week. But now that the shining prize was possibly within reach, he wasn’t even sure he wanted it anymore. He’d read about people who won a jackpot and ended up miserable due to lives suddenly complicated by bloodsucking relatives, opportunistic friends, and brazen strangers. Winning wasn’t always the best result in the long run.
And in his case, there was Simon. Whom he’d known only a short time, and whom Elliott might very well lose even if he stayed in Modesto. But, God, even the thought of that loss sent his heart into a panicked rhythm. What if Simon was the real prize and that job in Nebraska—or anywhere else for that matter—was nothing but fool’s gold?
“Life is hard,” Elliott whined to Ishtar. “Why can’t I be a dog?”
Except she had led a difficult life too, abandoned by her family and left for months without anyone to love her. He wrapped his arms around her neck; she licked his ear before settling her chin on his shoulder.
That evening, Elliott took Ishtar for a walk and accidentally on purpose ended up at Simon’s house. But a Ford sedan was parked in his driveway, so Elliott kept going. He felt like a dirty secret, which wasn’t a sensation he wanted to relive. He knew it wasn’t Simon’s fault, not really, and Simon had certainly been honest about his situation from the beginning. But still it made Elliott a little angry, and then he was angry at himself for being angry at Simon.
He and Ishtar ran the few blocks home.
Chapter Seventeen
Although the sky was dark on Halloween morning, rain hadn’t yet begun to fall. Elliott and Ishtar had a long run first thing. He’d been checking her paws after exercise. They looked fine, and she showed no signs of discomfort or distress, so he assumed she was good for distance running. In fact, she seemed thrilled with it and even a little disappointed when they returned home. She settled in for a nap while Elliott showered and ate breakfast.
Now she was on the front porch. Elliott had rigged a tether using a support column, a bungee cord, and one of her leashes, so she had a little room to roam but couldn’t run off. She watched with mild interest while he weeded the front garden for what he hoped might be the last time until spring. Hey, there was an advantage to Nebraska! Unlike California, nothing grew during the winter, so no yard work. Of course, the snow shoveling and ice scraping probably counterbalanced the benefit.
Having conquered the weeds, Elliott fetched his new garden flag, which had arrived the previous day. He hadn’t realized it when he ordered, but the purple hearts atop the rainbow stripes were glittery. Even better. He assembled the metal hanger, drove it into the ground, and was in the middle of attaching the flag when Ishtar stood and began to bark.
Elliott turned around. “Oh. Hi, Mike.”
Mike Burgess continued to stomp up the walkway without returning the greeting. “The city requires dogs to be on leashes,” he said.
“Which she is, as you can plainly see. And I don’t think the ordinance applies when the dog is on private property. Which she also is.”
That took a bit of the wind from Mike’s sails, but only for a moment. “The city limits you to two dogs.”
“And Ishtar, who may be quite large, still only counts as one. So we’re good.”
Mike’s face was sour and pinched. Elliott wanted to warn him that if he wasn’t careful, it would freeze like that. Hell, maybe it already had. Elliott had never seen him look happy.
Ishtar, uncharacteristically, wasn’t wagging her tail and looking desperate for attention. In fact, she was eyeing Mike rather like Elliott eyed door-to-door religious nuts who tried to convince him he was on the road to hell. Yet Mike continued to stand there with his hands at his sides and his mouth pursed up like an asshole.
“Can I help you with something?” Elliott finally asked with only a hint of irritation. Okay, maybe more than a hint.
“That sign—”
“It’s a flag. We’ve been through this. Somebody stole the other one, so I got a new one. I like it. It’s in my front yard.”
“But the CC&Rs—”
“Fuck the CC&Rs.” Elliott ignored Mike’s shocked reaction. He had enough big shit going on in his life without worrying about this little shit. He brushed some soil from his hands and took a step closer to Mike. “Seriously, what is your problem? I’m a good neighbor. This house was a dump when I bought it, but I fixed it up, and it’s really nice now. I don’t have loud parties. I don’t have kids who ride dirt bikes up and down the street or leave their toys in the middle of the sidewalk. I don’t have a zillion cars that I leave parked all over the place. I bring in my garbage bins promptly, I keep my lawn mowed, and I always pick up those stupid free newspapers and recycle them before they become a soggy mess. So what the hell is your problem with me? Is it because I’m gay?”
“It has nothing to do with that!” Mike snapped. “You people are always bringing that up as an excuse.”
Oh, this was good. Elliott couldn’t remember the last time he’d confronted anyone. His skin was comfortably flushed, and he had to work to keep his hands from balling into fists. But he kept his voice low and even. “Then what is it, Mike?”
Mike opened and closed his mouth, clearly at a loss. “You skirt the rules,” he finally said. “We have rules for a reason.”
“We certainly do. In fact, written laws are almost as old as civilization. But the CC&Rs aren’t exactly the Code of Hammurabi, inscribed in stone. And you, my friend, are not Hammurabi. So even if I was skirting the rules—which I’m not—why do you give a shit? How does it affect you? Do you have nothing better to do than get in a tizzy over rainbow flags?”
As Elliott talked, Mike had backed up a step or two. But now he stopped and snarled, and for a moment, Elliott was dead sure the guy was going to clock him. To his surprise, that didn’t frighten him. In fact, a tiny atavistic part of him hoped Mike would punch him, because then Elliott could punch back, and for the first time since the skirmish with Richie Pyle in eleventh grade, he’d end up in a bona fide fight. And it would feel good! Elliott might not be as big as Simon, but he worked out—and judging by Mike’s physique, Mike did not. Elliott could probably beat the shit out of him, which would be gloriously cathartic.
And okay, yes, would probably land him in jail.
But maybe Simon had pals who worked there.
It was slightly disappointing but probably for the best when Mike backed away. From the safety of the street, he faced Elliott again, hands on hips. “You’d better not violate the CC&Rs!” he yelled. “And you’d better keep control of that dog!”
Elliott just snorted and waved him away.
***
Simon arrived an hour before dark. He bent in the entryway to adore Ishtar, then stood and grinned at Elliott. “Need your help.” He jerked his head toward his truck in the driveway.
And yes he did, because he’d brought several cardboard boxes full of police-themed items to give to trick-or-treaters, along with an enormous tray of homemade baklava his mother had instructed him to share with the parents. “She and Dad have to work tonight, so she’s missing out. Usually she goes to Aunt Soso’s party and has a blast with all the little kids.”
“She wants
grandchildren, huh?” Elliott took the tray, leaving Simon with his cane and a paper grocery bag.
“Yeah. She knits things, El. Some of them she gives away to relatives, but I’m pretty sure she has a stash tucked away for my offspring.”
Back in the house, Ishtar danced around them happily, making passage difficult. While Simon took his bag into the kitchen, Elliott looked for somewhere to stash the baklava out of Ishtar’s reach. He ended up balancing it on some books atop one of the shorter bookcases, and even then he wasn’t sure it was safe. Luckily, Ishtar was too distracted by Simon to notice. Elliott didn’t blame her—he’d choose Simon over pastries too.
“Dinner!” Simon called from the kitchen.
Simon had set out plates and cutlery, which made Elliott feel warm and fuzzy. Not just because it was pleasant to have someone taking care of him a little, but because it meant Simon felt comfortable in Elliott’s house.
“It’s kind of early for dinner, isn’t it?” asked Elliott.
“Yeah. But as soon as it gets dark, the kids arrive. No time to eat then.” Simon looked as excited about the holiday as any child. It was adorable, and it made Elliott want to drag him into the bedroom then and there. But duty called.
Tonight they feasted on pho and bánh mì from a Vietnamese takeout place downtown. Elliott enjoyed the food, but he was distracted by watching Simon eat noodles. That mouth.
“If we get hungry again later, we can always order a pizza or something,” Simon said as they were cleaning up.
“Or I have ice cream in the freezer.”
Simon waggled his eyebrows. “And chocolate sauce? Whipped cream?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Shame.” Simon’s expression suggested it wasn’t frozen dairy products he was thinking about.
