I left for work feeling like I had betrayed him somehow.
All day, I kept thinking about Wade.
Mostly, I kept trying not to.
The warehouse was short-staffed.
Two people had quit the week before.
The rest of us were covering extra sections.
By lunch, my back hurt.
By three, my supervisor asked if I could stay another four hours.
I almost said no.
Then I remembered rent was due.
My car was making that sound again.
And I had exactly forty-three dollars until Friday.
So I said yes.
At seven, I called the apartment manager.
I asked if there had been any noise complaints.
“No,” she said.
I thanked her.
Then I stood behind the loading area and stared at my phone.
I almost called Emma.
I didn’t.
I got home after nine.
Cooper was waiting.
No destruction.
No food hidden anywhere.
He jumped against my legs once.
That was unusual for him.
Then he ran to the kitchen.
He stood beneath the counter.
My lunch bag was still there from the morning.
Empty.
“You already checked.”
He stared at me.
“I ate.”
He stared harder.
I opened the bag.
“See?”
I had thrown away the wrapper at work.
Cooper sniffed inside.
Then he looked at me like a disappointed auditor.
“I ate the whole thing.”
His tail moved.
I sat on the floor.
He climbed halfway into my lap.
He was too big for that.
I let him.
For the next few days, Wade didn’t appear.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, every time I passed the downstairs apartment, I looked toward the door.
Friday came.
My paycheck was smaller than I expected because my regular schedule had been reduced before the overtime started.
I stood in the grocery aisle doing math in my head.
Dog food.
Rent.
Gas.
Electric bill.
Food for me.
Car repair.
Pick four.
That was what life felt like.
Pick four.
Sometimes three.
I bought Cooper’s food first.
Then eggs.
Rice.
Bread.
Peanut butter.
Coffee.
A cheap package of chicken.
Granola bars.
I almost put the granola bars back.
Then I imagined Cooper watching me leave without one.
They stayed.
When I got home, Wade was sitting on the stairs.
I stopped.
He stood immediately.
“I can go.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I finished that cabinet job.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
He nodded.
“No.”
Cooper started whining behind my door.
He could smell him.
Wade heard it.
His whole face changed.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what it is.”
“I have a pretty good guess.”
He looked at my grocery bags.
Then back at me.
“Can I see him sometimes?”
There it was.
“No.”
Wade nodded.
“Okay.”
