“Hey,” I said, coming back out. “I was thinking that it might be good to—”

I stopped as I rounded the corner to the living room.

Kelly was asleep. She’d kicked off her shoes and curled up on the couch.

I looked around. Thinking about the pathos of a woman who had been this close to taking a bullet. I had been in that situation myself before, and there could be a sense of PTSD.

A trauma that might cause you to drink too much, especially around someone who you know won’t hurt you. Who already saved your life.

I covered her with a blanket and turned off the lights. At the front door, I checked the bottom lock to make sure if I turned it, she’d be locked inside and safe.

It worked like I thought, so I left her there to sleep off the wine.

21

By ten a.m. the next day, my phone started ringing while I was about to take Purvis for a walk. I recognized the number as Kelly’s.

“Hey,” I said. “How are you?”

“Hungover,” she answered. “I haven’t drank in a while, and I feel a strong urge to know how rude I was. Did I fall asleep mid-conversation?”

I explained to Kelly how I’d come out from the commode and found her asleep. Put a blanket atop her and locked up.

“What a gentleman,” she said. “I’m getting a coffee. You told me you’re off of work, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me your order and where you are. I’m coming by with a caffeine apology.”

I gave her my address, and Purvis and I took a walk. As I got back to the house, I saw Kelly getting out of a silver Honda CR-V.

She was wearing black leggings and a scoop-neck blouse. The outfit showed off what a good body she had even better than last night’s ensemble.

She met me on the porch and handed me the coffee. Then she leaned over and rubbed the folds of Purvis’s face.

“Red brindle and white,” she said. “He’s gorgeous.”

I smiled and sat down. This was how Lena always referred to Purvis. “I call him brown all the time, and true bulldog lovers accost me.”

“They’re right,” she said. “No such thing as a brown bulldog. What’s his name?”

“Purvis.”

“What are you two doing today?” she asked in cute voice, pulling Purvis into her lap. A string of drool hung from his mouth, and I wiped at it before it landed on her leggings.

“I dunno,” I said. I mentioned I’d gone fishing the day before, and she told me she used to go with her dad as a kid.

“We’d fish on a place called Lake Talquin,” she said. “I’d kayak around in the mornings, and in the afternoon my dad and his best friend would drink beers and hook largemouth bass and speckled perch.”

“Would you wanna go fishing for a couple days?” I asked. It was sudden, and as soon as I said the words, I felt unsure about them.