“David?” she blurted out, right when he was in the middle of a sentence.
“Yes?”
But she couldn’t say more. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. Okay, maybe she did. She just didn’t know how to say it.
“What?” he asked, waiting.
She let it pass. “Where are you now?”
“Watching your house. From the front now.”
“What’s going on out there?”
“It’s dark out, and people are finishing dinner.” David’s voice sounded calm, steady, and unhurried. Unworried. If he’d been wondering what she was going to say, he wasn’t wondering anymore. “An old man near you just put his trash out, only half a bag. He did a very neat job with his newspapers, all folded. Little girls who live on your side of the street are jumping on the bed, on the second floor, in the front room. There’s a poster on their wall of Britney Spears. And your neighbor was washing her dishes by hand, in her kitchen in the back. Her window is open, over the sink. If you’re in the kitchen, you should be able to hear her, if she’s still at it. Is she?”
Bennie listened and heard it faintly. The clinking of silverware. A sweetly domestic sound she remembered from her childhood. Her mother had never had a dishwasher. Bennie leaned her head back against the base cabinet and closed her eyes. Missing her mother, and listening. She hadn’t heard that small sound in years. She was never home at this hour. She missed the sound and savored it, both at the same time, holding the thickness in her throat, like a sliver of milk chocolate you knew would melt away too soon, making it all the more precious. She missed her mother so much; she was with her right now. It was a paradox Bennie had never understood until this minute.
“And your neighbor on the other side is practicing his guitar, in front of the window. He’s pretty good. It’s classical, but it’s slow. Nice. Can you hear that, too?”
Bennie didn’t know if she could; she just wanted him to go on. She kept her eyes closed, letting the wetness slip from beneath her lids. It would do her good, wash the city soot out of her eyes.
“People are walking their dogs. Somebody has a yellow lab out here, with a red bandanna. I hate dogs in clothes. God meant dogs to be naked. Hey, doesn’t Bear have to go out?”
“Oh, Jeez. I forgot.” Bennie wiped her eyes and sat straight up, guilted out of her reverie. Bear snoozed curled up against her foot. He hadn’t even complained. The dog was a saint. “I can’t believe I forgot about him.”
“You had a lot on your mind.”
“I have to take him out now.”
“Okay, relax. I’ll make sure you’re okay. Take the phone with you.”
Bennie scrambled to her feet. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. This is why I make the big bucks.”
“Wise ass.” She padded back into the living room and slipped into her shoes. Bear followed, realizing what was going on, and began to dance at her feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood. She went to the back of the door where his leash hung on the knob and slid it off, along with the pooper scooper from the entrance hall. “Hold on, David,” she said, putting the phone down while she leashed the excitable dog, since it couldn’t be accomplished with one hand, then retrieved the phone. “I’m back.”
“Okay, come on out.”
“Roger wilco.” Bennie grabbed her keys and left the house. The night was cool, dark, and quiet, and revived her slightly. Even if it hadn’t, Bear would have, by tugging her instantly up the street to his favorite tree, where he squatted like a girl dog. “Cute, huh? I have no idea why he does this.”
“He needs a father, obviously.”
Bennie got a little tingle. Definitely a flirty thing to say. She scanned the street for David but didn’t see him anywhere. “Where are you?”
“I see you.”
“I don’t see you.”
“Damn, I’m good.”
“Gimme a clue. You in disguise? Got the red horns on?”
“Are you two finished yet? Ole Bear seems to be doing a lot of sniffing.”
“He’s stalling. He owes me number two.”
“Thanks for sharing.”
Bennie walked Bear up to the next tree, looking around. No David and no Alice. Only two streetlights illuminated the street at either end, and both were far from her house. The street was bathed in darkness. She heard some shouting in the distance, then a bottle breaking. City noises. Still, it was a little creepy. No one was on the street.
“Don’t worry, I’m here.”
Bennie smiled in the darkness. “How did you know I was worried?”
“I just did.” His voice remained soft and calm, coming out of nowhere. If God talked on the cell, it would sound like this.
“Wait, we have ignition.” Bear did his business, and Bennie reached for her scooper, scooped his poop expertly, and dropped it in the sewer on the way to the house. “I think we’re done.”
“Head home now, keep walking. You’re almost at your next-door neighbor’s house, right?”
“Right.”
“There’s a trash bag there, a white Hefty kitchen bag, just like the kind you use. It looks like new. Do you see it?”
Bennie spotted the white trash bag, catching what little light there was in the dark. “I guess they put out their trash.”
“No, you did. Walk past it.”
“Okay,” Bennie said, mystified. “How do you know what kind of kitchen bags I use?”
“The other night, remember? I noticed. Now go inside your house, get your trash, and come back out with Bear and switch bags.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s trash day. And that white bag has presents for you.”
“Presents?”
“Make the switch quickly. Pretend you forgot something you had to throw out. Can you do that?”
“Watch.” Bennie reached her front door, unlocked it, and went inside, locking the door. Then she went to the kitchen with her puzzled retriever, grabbed her white kitchen bag from under the sink, unlocked the door, and went outside with it to the trash bag. Bear was loving the new game, wagging his tail. “Impressed yet? Bear is.”
“Very.”
“Can I handle a trash bag or what?” She picked up the new trash bag and set the old one down in its place, then hurried back inside with Bear, who began jumping up on her as soon as she locked the door. Whatever was in there, he wanted it. “What’s in this bag, David?”
“Open it.”
Bennie set it down on the coffee table and opened the yellow tape, instantly releasing the truly gourmet smell of oregano and processed meats. She looked inside. Three wrapped hoagies leaked olive oil through their white paper, and they rested on top of loose red apples, huge Jaffa oranges, and a plastic bag of green grapes. There was even a sealed container of cole slaw and a jar of dill pickle chips. “Wow!”
“Dessert’s on the bottom.”
“Really?” She dug deeper to a cellophane pack of Oreos, a bag of Pepperidge Farm chocolate chips, a megasize Snickers bar, a half gallon of milk, and a few cans of Coke. It was Thanksgiving in a bag, and Bennie hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she saw it. “This is amazing! Where did you get all this stuff?”
“The deli, when you were inside St. Amien’s.”
“When did you put it outside?”
“I didn’t, I paid a little kid to do it. I’m taking no chances.”
“This is great!” Bennie felt overwhelmed. It was such a thoughtful thing to do, and somehow so sexy. What do women want? Someone else to go food shopping. “Thank you so much.”