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By Root 280 0

in the mirror. It took a second before she realized it was herself and, as she looked more closely, a not wholly recognizable, even an illicit self, in soft, grainy light. She understood suddenly, she accepted the fate that meant she was to be found here, that Brennan would be returning and discover her, having stopped for the mail or bread. Out of nowhere she would hear the paralyzing sound of footsteps or a car. Still, she continued to look at herself. She was in the house of the poet, the demon. She had entered forbidden rooms. Tus besos . . . the words had not died. At that moment the dog came to the door, stood there, and then fell to the floor, his knowing eyes on her, like an intimate friend. She turned to him. All she had never done seemed at hand.

Deliberately, without thinking, she began to remove her clothes. She went no further than the waist. She was dazzled by what she was doing. There in the silence with the sunlight outside she stood slender and half-naked, the missing image of herself, of all women. The dog’s eyes were raised to her as if in reverence. He was unbetraying, a companion like no other. She remembered certain figures ahead of her at school. Kit Vining, Nan Boudreau. Legendary faces and reputations. She had longed to be like them but never seemed to have the chance. She leaned forward to stroke the beautiful head.

— You’re a big fellow. The words seemed authentic, more authentic than anything she had said for a long time. A very big fellow.

His long tail stirred and with faint sound brushed the floor. She kneeled and stroked his head again and again.

There was the crackling of gravel beneath the tires of a car. It brought her abruptly to her senses. Hurriedly, almost in panic, she threw on her clothes and made her way to the kitchen. She would run along the porch if necessary and then from tree to tree.

She opened the door and listened. Nothing. As she was going quickly down the back steps, by the side of the house she saw her husband. Thank God, she thought helplessly.

They approached each other slowly. He glanced at the house.

— I brought the car. Is anyone here?

There was a moment’s pause.

— No, no one. She felt her face stiffen, as if she were telling a lie.

— What were you doing? he asked.

— I was in the kitchen, she said. I was trying to find something to feed him.

— Did you find it?

— Yes. No, she said.

He stood looking at her and finally said,

— Let’s go.

As they backed out, she caught sight of the dog just lying down in the shade, sprawled, disconsolate. She felt the nakedness beneath her clothes, the satisfaction. They turned onto the road.

— Somebody’s got to feed him, she said as they drove. She was looking out at the houses and fields. Warren said nothing. He was driving faster. She turned back to look. For a moment she thought she saw him following, far behind.

LATE THAT DAY she went shopping and came home about five. The wind, which had arisen anew, blew the door shut with a bang.

— Warren?

— Did you see him? her husband said.

— Yes.

He had come back. He was out there where the land went up slightly.

— I’m going to call the animal shelter, she said.

— They won’t do anything. He’s not a stray.

— I can’t stand it. I’m calling someone, she said.

— Why don’t you call the police? Maybe they’ll shoot him.

— Why don’t you do it? she said coldly. Borrow someone’s gun. He’s driving me crazy.

It remained light until past nine, and in the last of it, with the clouds a deeper blue than the sky, she went out quietly, far across the grass. Her husband watched from the window. She was carrying a white bowl.

She could see him very clearly, the gray of his muzzle there in the muted grass and when she was close the clear, tan eyes. In an almost ceremonial way she knelt down. The wind was blowing her hair. She seemed almost a mad person there in the fading light.

— Here. Drink something, she said.

His gaze, somehow reproachful, drifted away. He was like a fugitive sleeping on his coat. His eyes were nearly closed.

My life has meant nothing, she thought. She wanted above