The File on Angelyn Stark (22 page)

I catch my breath.

“No, not you. And, no, I won’t say who.”

Mr. Rossi stands. I stand after him.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” he says. “You shouldn’t have.”

We face each other on the ground.

“It’s cool your son likes Dolly.” I lean for a pet. “But, you know, I love her.”

“I know you do,” Mr. Rossi says. “Can you love her enough to let her go?”

Tears push at me. I bite my cheek.

“Angelyn, I want to ask you something.”

“What?”

“Do you know Ms. Jones in the Career Center?”

“I know who she is,” I say.

“She knows about you,” Mr. Rossi says. “How you’re interested in the Coast Guard.”

“I’m not. Anymore.”

“You’re sure about that?”

I fold my arms. “I wanted to talk about it with you.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Mr. Rossi is gentle.

“How does Ms. Jones know about me?”

“I told her,” he says. “I gave her my student’s email—the one who joined the Coast Guard. It’s all set for you to contact her. If you want.”

“How would I have known if I didn’t come here?”

“I told Ms. Jones to keep an eye out,” Mr. Rossi says.

“For me?”

“Yes,” he says. “For you.”

“Oh.” My head drops.

“What’s this?”

I press my eyes with cold fingers. “Me being happy.”

“Angelyn?”

“It’s dumb. You care.”

Mr. Rossi says, “That’s not so hard to do.”

I fix on Dolly. “That night I stayed here. You held me. You were drunk and I needed to be held. I was so happy. Did you know you were doing it?”

He doesn’t answer.

“That’s all you did, Mr. Rossi. Hold me. And I held you. Do you remember?”

Still quiet.

I point over my shoulder. “I guess I better go.”

“Be well,” he says. Dolly sits beside him, ears cocked.

“I think you were right,” I say. “She’s better here.”

“I’m glad,” Mr. Rossi says. “You know this has to be the last time you come by.”

I toss my hair. “I know. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Okay.”

Nothing left to say. For either of us.

“Well—bye.”

“Goodbye, Angelyn.”

I’m shaky, moving off. One foot in front of the other. I have to think it. Something left unsaid. Undone.

I walk back. Mr. Rossi watches, his face still.

“Thank you for being my fr—
teacher
,” I say. “Thank you for being my teacher and friend.”

He smiles. “You bet.”

A moment we’re there, standing close.

“See you, Mr. Rossi.”

“See you, Angelyn.”

Wind swirls dust out of the gravel as I leave the path. I wave it off, swallowing some. Trying not to cough. I wonder if he’s watching. I squint at the pool, remembering the thick chill the night I jumped in. The warmth afterward. Past it, I hear a scrabble of nails. Dolly. My heart lifts.

“Hey!” when she reaches me. I drop to my knees. The rocks dig in.

Dolly wriggles in my arms.

“You want to go with me, huh? You want to be with me.”

She licks my hand, holding her in place.

Dolly, my dog
.

Stretched on my bed, there every morning
.

Living my life
.

I press my face to her neck. “You stay here. Home.”

I kiss Dolly. I let her go.

She looks at me and back to the house.

“That’s right,” I say. “Go home.”

I wait for him to call her. He doesn’t.

“Baby, go home,” I say, and I point, and look.

Mr. Rossi is standing. Watching. I raise my hand.

He raises his. And whistles. “Dolly!”

A whisk of her feathery tail against my arm and she is off.

I brush my cheeks and rise and move ahead toward my home.