to light and guard

chapter fifteen

Outside the house with bags of dog supplies between them, loud barks echoed through the walls. "We're being welcomed home," Mary Eunice murmured in response to Lana's baleful look.

Lana sighed through her nose, a headache throbbing between her temples. She had knocked her face on the tile floor of that damn restaurant, and now her teeth were rattled and her tongue bleeding where she had bitten it. The dazed moment she had lain on the floor had given the man just enough time to hurt Mary Eunice, just enough time to pin her down and grab her hair and slap her around like a ragdoll. By the time she scrambled back to her feet, she only had the opportunity to catch Mary Eunice from his rough arms, her face all tear-streaked and pink and snotty. You are a lousy friend. He could've been strangling her, and you were lying on the floor like it was a tanning bed or something.

She popped the door open and entered, returning the keys to her pocket. Whistling, she called, "Gus! Here, boy!" and the dog rocketed out of the living room; he still favored his injured paw, but he pounced up to paw at Lana's chest. He thrust his gray muzzle into her plastic bags. "Hey—get down. That's not nice. You're going to have to learn some manners." Mary Eunice massaged the swollen section of her scalp with her fingertips as she walked past them into the living room. He really hurt her. She's going to be losing some hair. Gus swatted his good paw on her hand. "Ugh—your feet are all wet!"

From the living room, Mary Eunice called, "Uh—Lana?" Lana pushed Gus off of her and followed Mary Eunice; Gus darted after her, his tail whipping into a black blur like a fan. She drank in the sight of the living room in silence—what remained of the living space, anyway. Dear god. The couch pillow laid in tatters on the floor. A large tear in the arm of the couch gave way to yellow stuffing, scattered around the room. He had flipped the coffee table onto its back, one leg snapped off. A pile of shit was the centerpiece of the chaotic meal. Mary Eunice turned her head, looking to Lana for answers.

Don't yell. Lana gulped to ensure her first response stayed stuffed inside her. Instead, she managed a whisper. "I'm starting to think this whole dog thing was a bad idea." Mary Eunice's lips pressed into a thin line. She set down her bags and went to the kitchen, emerging with a roll of paper towels. "Don't—Oh, god, you don't have to do that. I'm the idiot who said I wanted his ass."

A small grin reached Mary Eunice's mouth, the lower lip busted in the corner where the man had struck her. "I don't think you have a good idea of how many diapers I've changed in my life." She picked up the excrement in her paper towel. "At least it's solid." Lana almost gagged at the prospect of loose shit staining her carpet. The stench of it permeated the room, and Mary Eunice carried it away while Lana thought of a pleasant garden near the beach to settle her stomach. You would have made a terrible mother.

Gus whined beside her, and she whipped her gaze upon him; he cowered and tucked his tail at her sudden movement. Don't. You'll only scare him. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know," she griped at him. She placed her bags beside Mary Eunice's and began to gather the shredded cotton remnants of the pillow. "Look at this. Wendy bought this. You ate it. One day, someone is going to buy you something nice, and I'll eat it." He didn't rouse from where he lay on the floor, beginning to roll belly up at her accusing tone. "The couch isn't much of a loss—we found that at a dump. She just had to have it. She was definitely stoned. We found a pair of boxers in it the next day. Jesus, why am I telling you this? You're a dog. You don't care."

Mary Eunice returned to the living room with the sewing kit. She sniffed and wiped her nose before she sat down beside the tear in the couch, gathering up the yellow stuffing and shoving it back inside. Good god, she's miserable, and she's cleaning up your mess again. Fuck martyrdom. Lana took her by the shoulder. "Hey—no. Don't worry about that right now. You need to rest. You don't look good."