When she spots me and Bruno, she smiles wider, and her dimples look even deeper.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. I can’t help but smile when I see her.
She looks down at Bruno, who is excitedly jumping at the gate, trying to get to her. Then she looks back up at me. “I’m here to adopt Bruno.”
I wish that I could tell her yes, and let her jump the long list of people who already filled out applications, but that’s not how this works. Her smile fades a little when she sees the look on my face.
“Bruno already has a bunch of applicants. There’s a waitlist for him.”
To my surprise, her smile gets bigger. “Oh, I know. I already filled out an application. I got the call this morning. My application was approved, and I’m first on the list.”
I frown. I hadn’t looked at the list of applicants, so I can’t be sure. “You are?”
“I applied for him as soon as you told me he might get adopted this weekend.” She reaches into the pen to pet him. “I couldn’t let him go to just anyone.”
I look down at the stack of papers on the table, and sift through it until I see her application.
“But you don’t meet all the criteria,” I tell her. “Bruno needs a house with a yard. An apartment is fine while he’s small, but he’s going to be a big dog. He needs a lot of space.”
She bends down and picks up the puppy, holding him against her chest. “I’m moving.”
I frown. She never mentioned this before. “You are?”
She nods, that pretty smile still tugging up the corners of her lips. “Yes. I bought a house.”
I can’t tell if she’s messing with me or not. “When?”
“It was finalized yesterday.”
I’m at a loss for what to say. On the one hand, I’m happy that she’s the one adopting Bruno. But hearing that she’s moving and that she didn’t tell me until now has me hesitant. A wave of emotion that I can’t describe comes over me as I think about last night. I can’t help but wonder if that was her way of saying goodbye, one last night together before she goes somewhere else. I don’t even know if she’ll still want to write to me after I screwed everything up.
“Where?” I ask. I can’t seem to form any sentences longer than one word.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes this time. She pulls an envelope out of her bag and hands it to me. “Read it after I leave.”
I stare at the envelope in my hand while she finalizes the adoption with one of the shelter employees. All that’s on it is my name, handwritten in that familiar curvy handwriting of hers. No address. Not even a return address.
After she leaves, I head out to my car and sit inside it while the rain pelts down on the roof. I slide my finger under the envelope flap, opening it carefully.
Dear Luca,
Remember when you sent all those letters to me at the news station without a return address? Consider this payback. I wonder if you can figure out my new address faster than I figured out yours.
Love,
Naomi
I turn the page over, then check the envelope again. Then I look over my shoulder, checking the parking lot for her car. Of course she would tell me to read this after she’s already gone. I read the letter again, hoping to find a clue I might have missed the first time, but there’s nothing other than that taunting note.
I pull out my phone and I dial her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. I send a text, even though I already know she won’t answer me. I’m supposed to look for her the same way she looked for me.
I stare through my rain-drenched windshield at the warped buildings on the other side, and I start to laugh. I wonder if this is how she felt when I sent her that first letter at the news station.
I turn the key in the ignition and head home. When I get there, I check my mailbox, but to my disappointment she hasn’t left anything for me there. I head upstairs to the third floor. I knock on her door, but she doesn’t answer. I listen for a minute, but it’s quiet. She must have gone to her new home. I look up and down her hallway, as if that’s going to give me clues, but still nothing.
Then I remember something. Naomi didn’t just stand around waiting for a clue to drop into her lap. She went up and down the streets I used to live on, talking to old neighbors I don’t even remember, like Carol Bell. Maybe that’s what I’m supposed to do.
I run to the apartment next door and knock on the door. No one answers. I try the next apartment, and the next, until someone finally answers, but it turns out Naomi didn’t talk much to any of her neighbors, and none of them know where she’s going. After knocking on every single door on her floor, and talking to half a dozen people, I feel defeated, but I’m not ready to give up yet.
