“You can come spend time here. But you don’t have to stay. You can. But you don’t owe me anything, ok? Just knock on the door when you want to go out.”

When she finished rinsing him off, Dog stood very still and looked at her, then at the shower curtain, and back at her. She pulled the curtain and he shook himself off for several minutes. When she opened the shower curtain, it was with some trepidation.

“Smart dog.”

Dog jumped out of the tub and dove into the towels she had lined the floor with, over and over again, pressing his ears and neck down into the fluff. He seemed like a normal golden retriever mutt, young, playful.

Damp Dog followed Dune through her house. She pulled out the cake box. One egg, ⅓ cup oil, 1 cup water, cake mix, 350 degrees for thirty-five minutes. Dune swapped in apple sauce as an egg substitute. She sat at the table while it cooked. Then she stood up and found a few leftover chicken thighs in the fridge and cut them up for Dog. He ate quickly and she felt good to help him in this way.

When she pulled the cake out and tested it with a fork, she could feel in her gut the anticipation. She opened a book of poems by Tongo Eisen-Martin that Kama had celebrated as revolutionary, and she read out loud to Dog while her cake cooled. She only distorted the surface a few times in the frosting process.

She didn’t look for candles because that would have been a lie. She was an adult with no one to lie to. She saw Dog watching her. “I celebrate your move-in day.” She cut herself one piece and ate it.

It was good.

Acknowledgments