Walter cleared his throat again. He tapped the leaves of the open magazine against his knees. “Sure. We can do that.”

“All right, then.” Roy smiled at Teresa. “We’re all decided.”

The panicked, edgy look on Teresa’s face softened like a sandcastle in a rain shower.

His father commenced reading aloud from the back of the magazine a full-page letter by Charles Lindbergh about the moon launch and the flight of the Spirit of Saint Louis. He read in a strong voice, as if they’d requested the reading and were eagerly attentive. But Helen started cooing over Frankie’s sleeping face, and Roy, after a few moments, released Dwight, got up from his chair, and walked over to the grill. He took the wire brush from its hook on the side of the grill and started scrubbing off the grit from their lunch. Teresa stepped up behind him. She closed her hands around his stomach and said softly into his ear, “Clever boy.”

“You think?”

“I didn’t really want that dog in our house anyway,” she whispered.

Walter read on, and Dwight meandered from the patio over to the slide to resume lapping at the water spray. Within the circle of Teresa’s arms, Roy turned around. He couldn’t bring himself to be physically aroused in the presence of his parents, but he felt it in his mind, and, facing Teresa, he brought his hips against hers and kissed her. When their mouths parted, he said, “So I guess we’ve got a pet.”

“I guess we do. It’ll be okay.”

“Dog food. Trips to the vet. All that crying when he kicks the bucket.”

“Don’t,” she said, and touched a finger to his mouth.

“Is anyone listening to this?” Walter asked them. “There are important things going on in the world.”

“Everything’s important, Pop.” At the far end of the slide, Joseph was pushing both his hands against Katherine’s lower back. Katherine was pushing Matt’s shoulders. Matt, crouched down and half-hidden by Walter in the lawn chair, was shoving his weight against something, and in the next moment all three of them pitched forward out of sight, and from the other side of Roy’s father, Dwight came sailing down the yellow runway. He was balanced on his back haunches, his front paws dangling in front of his chest. His tongue was lolling out one side of his mouth. They’ll kill him, Roy thought, he’ll have a heart attack. But Dwight lifted his snout and aimed his face into the water’s spray, oblivious to his velocity, or surrendering to it. Enjoying it, even.

Believe It or Not

2006