Together in the Clouds

Chapter 6

The next time I leave the ravine to do errands I find a grocery store and pick out a bag of dog food for Tuff. It's not the expensive kind but I know he won't mind. We only have enough kibble left for two or three more meals so if I don't buy some soon, I'll have to start feeding him from my supply of crackers and tuna. And although Tuff will eat just about anything, he's not a big fan of fish.

As a general rule I try to avoid grocery stores because there are too many temptations. Even when I walk the aisles knowing I can't afford anything but dog kibble, I crave all sorts of foods I haven't thought about in weeks: ice cream, yoghurt, cheese, grapes, fresh bread. I do my best to resist, but in the end I pick up a jar of no-name peanut butter and a small bunch of bananas. The peanut butter will keep in the tent and the bananas won't make it back down to the ravine.

The cashier rings through the items and I hand her the credit card. While I wait I stare at the headlines on the magazines, headlines that are meant to sucker people into buying whatever crap is written inside. But who really cares which celebrity has the most cellulite and which one cheated on his wife? Like Dad, I'm convinced the IQ of the average person is plummeting.

"I'm sorry, but your card has been declined," the cashier says.

My heart flash-freezes.

I stare at the card in her hand but I don't take it from her. "Can you try again, please?"

The cashier is not much older than me and tries again. I appreciate that she doesn't roll her eyes or sigh impatiently so I wait as politely as I can. It's hard to look calm when your insides are twisting like a tornado. This time while I wait, I don't read the magazine headlines. I focus on the credit card reader. Time has shifted suddenly and the seconds tick by at an agonizing pace.

After what feels like an hour, she pulls the credit card back out of the machine and looks sympathetic. "I'm really sorry. It says it's declined again."

I look at the three items on the conveyor belt and try to process this information. Even though I'm craving peanut butter and bananas so badly my stomach is turning inside out, I know I can live without them. If I'm careful, I have enough crackers and canned tuna to get me through a couple more weeks. But Tuff needs to eat.

"I'll just take the dog food," I say and rummage in my pocket for the emergency twenty.

The girl puts the peanut butter and bananas on the counter beside her and hands me the change: three dollars and twenty-five cents.

"Sorry 'bout that," she says. When she sees me steal a longing glance at the bananas, I know she really does feel bad.

Tuff is waiting patiently under the tree where I tied him up but when he sees me come out of the grocery store he starts to dance and whine. I was only out of his sight for fifteen minutes but I feel just as relieved to see him. I lean down and bury my face in his fur. Tears burn like fire in my eyes but I take a deep breath. Just the smell of him keeps my heart from racing even in the wildest of storms.

There are only two things that really matter to me in the world. I've got Tuff in my arms, but where is Dad? Cold fear has been scratching at the bottom of my stomach for days and no matter what I tell myself, I can't make it go away.

Tuff tucks his tail between his legs when I reach over to untie the leash. He always knows when I'm upset and this makes me feel worse. I need him to stay upbeat. For a split second all I can think about is running down the street and disappearing into the ravine, tumbling down the steep slope and hiding among the tangle of thick vines. I want to hide away and worry in private. But for the moment I can't make myself walk. It takes every ounce of control to keep breathing and to keep the tears from spilling down my cheeks. Instead of escaping, I sit down at the base of the tree with the dog food on one side and Tuff on the other. I have no idea what's happening but I know something has gone wrong. Dad's missed two Sunday calls, he's weeks past his arrival date and now the credit card has been declined. Tuff lies down beside me and rests his chin on my leg with a quizzical whine. I rub his ears absently while I try to think. But it's hard to concentrate on anything beyond the tremble that is taking over my limbs.

Suddenly Tuff lifts his head and wags his tail. I look up and see a woman standing beside us. She's wearing a wide-brimmed yellow hat and looks like the sun staring down at us. Tuff stands and stretches his nose until he is almost touching her, then wags his tail so hard his whole body shakes. She reaches out and pets him.

"I have a dog at home who looks just like this," the lady says.

I try to smile but it's hard with tears trying to overflow my eyelids. Instead I nod and dab my eyes with my fist. I pull Tuff back to my side. The lady opens her wallet and offers me a five dollar bill. I want to protest, explain that I'm not panhandling, that I just happen to be sitting on the sidewalk. But the words are elusive and despite the shame burning in my cheeks, my body responds. I watch in horror as my traitorous hand reaches up to accept the money.

"I hope it helps," she says before she closes her wallet and continues down the street.

Tuff watches her go but I just stare at the bill in my hand.