“Is Meer running late?” I ask, finally.
Tatum shrugs. Not looking at me.
“What does that mean?” I say.
“He’s like his dad. Not bound by the clock.”
“He told me to meet him at eleven.”
“Same.”
Glum comes up again, eyes bright and friendly. I’ve always loved dogs, and a couple of my mother’s boyfriends had them, but I’ve never had one of my own. I want to ask Tatum how old she is, who named her, and whether she is an Irish wolfhound or something else. But he’s so cold that I settle for holding my hand out to the dog.
Glum sniffs me and then steps forward, panting, to let me stroke her ears. “Hello, my new pal,” I say. “You are a delight. Yes, you are.” As my hand touches the shaggy fur of her forehead, love wells up—the kind of instant love I already have for Meer. It’s easier to have for animals than for people. There is so much in my heart and hardly any person to give it to.
“Glum’s a terror and a horror,” Tatum says, but he says it fondly.
“No, she’s wonderful. Why do you say that?”
“She craps on the rug.”
“With all this outdoor space? Can’t she go out whenever she wants?”
“She has inner demons. She’s expressing her anxiety. Or something.”
“What does she have anxiety about?” I ask. And then to Glum, who has dropped the stick at my feet. “You have a good doggie life, I think. Top-notch. Oh, look at you, wagging. You seriously crap on the rug inside? That’s hard to believe, my furry pal.”
“I’ll tell you something dark,” Tatum says.
“What?”
“Last time she did it on the rug, I was like, forget it. I’m not cleaning it. I saw it, but I let it sit there. And it was like, a big honking dog poo, not just a little squiggle. I swear, steam was coming off of it.”
I laugh. It’s like he’s peeled away his protective outer skin suddenly, letting me glimpse what’s underneath. The darkness, and also the sense of humor.
“Anyway,” Tatum goes on. “Whatever. First couple times she did it, I was worried. Like maybe she was sick. So I took her to the vet, which June did not want, because Kingsley doesn’t like dog hair in the car even though the car is seriously old and messed up, but also June doesn’t want the expense of the vet and she doesn’t believe in that kind of medicine. But I insisted. I said I’d pay for it. She gave me all these blankets to put in the back seat.” He turns to me for the first time in all this conversation and smiles. He has big, surprising dimples on both sides of his face when he does that. “But I let Glum ride in the front. We put the top down.”
Glum has fetched and now drops the stick at his feet. Tatum throws it again for her.
“Did you seat belt her?”
Tatum nods. “She was so happy. And when we got back, I wiped the fur off and no one ever found out. Anyway, the vet said there was nothing to worry about. But Glum—she kept soiling the rug. A different spot different days, so sometimes you wouldn’t see it, you know?”
“Ugh.”
“And then this one day I told you about, I just—I know it’s gross, but I had basically had it. I felt like, here is something bad and upsetting in the middle of the living room and none of you are going to even acknowledge it, because you know I’ll take care of it and make it go away? What’s going to happen if I leave it? How long are you going to pretend everything is clean when there’s a calcifying pile of dog crap stinking up the living room? How long?”
“How long was it?”
“Five days.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I think back to the old pink juice on the mantel, the encrusted plates in the dining room, the trash and crumbs on the floor.
“Believe me,” continues Tatum. “They all just pretended this foul, rotten, toxic thing wasnot there. Right in the house.”
