Round Rock - Michelle Huneven [132]
“You said that?”
“I know, I know,” Libby said with her mouth full. “Can you believe it?”
Lewis started to laugh. “You dumped her?”
Libby paused to swallow. “I know David’s far from blameless, but at least he tried to correct his mistakes. I believe in him. He and Little Bill do seem to have a good, open—”
“Wait a sec, Lib. You told Billie you wouldn’t be her friend anymore?”
“This is what gets me,” Libby said. “Billie always says people don’t change. It’s her war cry. But she’s the only one who never changed. I mean, look at all of us. Who knew we’d end up here, together, slogging through all this?”
OBEDIENCE TRAINING for Adult Dogs was taught Saturday mornings in Buchanan’s Plaza Park. Before he could enroll Gustave, Lewis had to take him in for shots. The vet said he was about fifteen months old, healthy as a horse, and probably half large terrier—Airedale or schnauzer—and half Great Dane.
When Gustave met the other dogs, he spooked, barked like a hellion, did his usual cower-and-piss routine, and otherwise identified himself as the class problem. The teacher, a middle-aged corgi breeder named Beverly, was reassuring. “Obedience training exists to help dogs like Gus.”
The Santa Bernita is a small valley, so Lewis wasn’t surprised to know two of the other dog owners. One was Carl, his first roommate at Round Rock, who had stayed sober and was still teaching high-school biology; Lewis had seen him briefly at Red’s funeral. Carl had a shiny chocolate Labrador named Valrhona, Val for short. They walked to the drinking fountain during the break, dogs lunging on their leashes. “I’m still in shock over Red,” Carl said.
“I really miss him,” said Lewis.
They stood kicking at the grass until the dogs whined and pulled them back to the present.
Lewis’s other acquaintance was Phyllis, formerly his favorite waitress at Denny’s. He didn’t recognize her at first because she’d stopped bleaching her hair. She was now a short-haired, nondescript brunette, boyish, still skinny, though not quite so severe-looking as before. Phyllis’s dog, Tessie, was a peculiar little terrier mix that looked more like a badger.
“Denny’s was a cesspool,” she told Lewis after class. “My boss stalked me, called me up drunk at all hours. I had to quit.” She had moved in with her mom and gone to massage school. “I found out I liked learning physiology and anatomy.” Now she was working toward a nursing degree, making straight A’s, and giving massages at a physical therapy clinic in Buchanan.
“Wanna meet Ralph?” she asked.
Ralph, her son, had parked himself away from the class because Tessie couldn’t concentrate at all if he was in sight. A skinny teenager lying on a blanket in the sun and reading a book, Ralph had stringy brown hair, a sunken chest, and an undernourished pallor. He shook Lewis’s hand, said it was nice to meet him, and looked him in the eye. Lewis liked him right away. Phyllis gave Ralph a ten-dollar bill to buy burritos and Cokes. “You want something?” she asked Lewis.
“That’s okay,” he said.
She turned to Ralph. “Don’t let them put that fire juice on mine or I’ll kill you.” Ralph started smirking. “Don’t think I won’t,” she growled. “I’ll wring your neck.” Her son danced off, waving her money.
“He’s a good kid,” she said.
They sat down on Ralph’s blanket and Lewis saw he was studying algebra and Spanish.
Phyllis touched Lewis’s arm. “Where you been?”
Her eyes were gray-green, her skin freckled. She was a good listener; she nodded at appropriate moments, made sympathetic noises. When Lewis told her about Red’s sudden death, and his own decision to stay on at Round Rock, she said, “It sounds like you’re a good friend to those people there. I hope they appreciate you.”
“Oh, they do.”
“So what’s anybody doing for you?”
“They’re all nice, you know.”
“Nice?” Phyllis said. “All right. Lie down.” She patted the blanket. “On your stomach.” Lewis did as ordered, resting his chin on the edge of the blanket. Grass blades speared his nose. Tessie and Gustave chased each other in large circles