Freedom Page 3

“I can stay somewhere else. Keep an eye on Bruiser for me,” I offer. I don’t know what to say. Zoe and I seem like flint and steel. Even normal topics of conversation seem to be contentious.

  “No, you are welcome to stay here. Tristan vouched for you and said you are a decent guy. I’ll take his word for it.”

  “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’ll do my best to stay out of your way. I want to make sure Bruiser makes it through the night. I feel oddly responsible for him.”

  “Many rescuers feel the same way. I know it’s hard for me to let a dog go after I’ve trained it for months. They worm their way into your heart.”

  “That’s interesting. I’ve been accused of not having a heart,” I reveal.

  “Why is that?” Zoe asks with a look of trepidation.

  I swallow hard before I admit, “It’s sometimes hard for me to interact with people. Most of the time, they think I don’t care.”

  Zoe gives me a small smile. “I can relate. I would much rather be friends with a dog or cat any day.”

  “I have a dog. Her name is Gizmo. I had to leave her with my parents because I’m going to Oregon.”

  “Really? What kind of dog is Gizmo?”

  “No one is sure. We found her wandering through my yard. We couldn’t find her owner, so she ended up staying with me. I think she’s some type of Border Collie, but she has something else too.”

  “Border Collies are really smart.”

  “I’m not sure Gizmo was blessed with smart genes. She is a little clueless. She can’t figure out how to walk on a leash without getting tangled up.”

  “When you come back from Oregon, you should sign up for one of Mitch’s dog training classes. He can probably get her straightened out.”

  “Would there be other people in the class?”

  “Mitch usually has a small group of students when he offers a class.”

  I run my hand through my hair and untangle it from my collar. “Yeah, it’s probably not my scene. I’m more of a one-on-one person.”

  Zoe scrutinizes me. “You said that before. What’s wrong with you?”

  Her bold question takes me by surprise. It’s been years since somebody has asked me directly, most of the time they murmur behind my back. People are strange. They equate being shy and private with not being able to hear. I can tell you — those are two very different things.

  I take a few moments to formulate a response. It’s just that people tend to get weirded out when I tell them my story. Eventually, I decide I have nothing to lose. In a couple of days, I’ll be out of here and probably never see Zoe again. It doesn’t matter if she knows.

  “Have you ever heard of Asperger’s Syndrome? It’s on the autism spectrum.”

  “Of course, I know about Asperger’s. Haven’t you met Ketki? She has autism too. She helps Tristan test software. I figured the two of you would work together all the time.”

  “What you mean by that?”

  Zoe puts her hands up in front of her in protest. “Nothing! I don’t mean anything bad by it. I’m just saying Ketki is working with Tristan and her step-dad, John, on making Tristan’s games more accessible. She told me all about it when she was here the last time.”

  “I keep to myself and Identity Bank. That’s one of the things I like about my job. It’s just me and the computer. But, what you’re saying makes sense to me because Tristan keeps telling me to meet other people within the company. Do you think he might have meant Ketki?”

  “I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t hang out with Tristan a bunch. Tristan and Rogue are good friends with my boss — but I don’t socialize with them often. Can’t you just ask Tristan who he’d like you to meet?”

  I sag against the wall. Feeling it against my back helps ground me. The fluorescent lights in the exam room are distracting me, and I’m having a hard time focusing on the conversation.

  “Come on, let’s go check on Bruiser in his kennel and grab something to eat,” Zoe says before I have a chance to answer her question.

  She leads me to a separate part of the building. At first, I am relieved to have the distraction. Then, she opens the door to the kennel room. I am assaulted with the sound of excited dogs barking and the smell of wet dog.

  Zoe waves me into the room. “Come on; I put Bruiser back in the corner so he would have some privacy.”

  I stand frozen in the doorway unable to move.

  “Phoenix, are you listening? I said you could come on in. The dogs are all caged, no one’s gonna bite you,” she quips.

  “I can’t,” I hoarsely whisper.

  “I thought you said you had a dog. I didn’t expect you to be afraid of them,” Zoe comments with a puzzled expression on her face.

  “I’m not afraid of dogs,” I assert as I feel my face turn hot with embarrassment.

  “Then what’s the problem?” Zoe asks.

  I stuff my hands in my pockets and rub my fingers over the golf ball I keep in my pocket. Rubbing on the bumpy surface helps distract my brain from the assault of sensory information. Taking a deep breath, I answer, “What isn’t the problem? The dogs are so loud I can’t think. One of these dogs must’ve been sprayed by a skunk. The lights are blinking. Can’t you see that?”

  “Oh! I’m so sorry. I should’ve thought about all that. Why don’t you come into one of the adoption rooms? I’ll see if Bruiser is up to seeing you. You should have said something I wouldn’t have ever brought you back here. It’s noisy even for me.”

  “This is why I don’t hang out with other people,” I admit, my voice laced with frustration. “This kind of stuff trips me up all the time. I know you probably think I’m totally weird. I guess all I can tell you is I’m not typical. That’s why they call us neuro-atypical.”

  “Okay. I get it. Let me get you into a quieter space.”

  Zoe touches my elbow to guide me to the other room. My senses are completely overwhelmed. I flinch when she touches me.

  “I’m sorry,” Zoe mutters. “You didn’t seem to mind when I touched you when we were working with Bruiser earlier.”

  “When I’m stressed, things are more overwhelming. Like you said earlier, it’s not personal. I apologize for bothering you. I think I should probably just go.”

  “Where can you go?” Zoe asks. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re having a rainstorm. That can’t be good for your bike. You might as well stay until it lets up.”

  “I don’t know if I can. I’m hanging on by my fingernails here.”

  Zoe opens the door to a small room. There is a large, overstuffed leather couch and a box of dog toys in the room. Instead of florescent lights, there is an old-fashioned looking lamp with a stained glass. The walls are painted a dark red color and there is a portrait of a German Shepherd wearing a service vest.

  I take a deep breath and let it out. I shake out my hands and relax. “This is much better. Thank you.”

  “This is the room we named after Hope. It’s my favorite room too. Sometimes if were not busy I’ll sneak in here on my lunch hour and just read a book.”

  “Is Hope the owner?” I ask, curious about the idea of naming rooms.

  Zoe giggles. “I guess it depends on who you ask. She is the four-legged founder of Hope’s Haven. But, Mitch and Jessica actually own it.”

  “Oh, I see. I feel stupid for asking such a dumb question.”

  “It’s okay — not everybody knows our back story. Jessica brought Hope to Mitch when she was injured. The two of them fell in love and got married. They just had a baby.”

  Small talk doesn’t come easily to me. Zoe seems to sense I don’t have anything else to say. She stands up and heads toward the door. “I’m going to go check on Bruiser. If he’s up to walking around, I’ll bring him in here so you can say good night.”

  “That’s great. Thank you,” I respond as I rest my head against the back of the couch.

  After Zoe leaves the room, I put my hand back in my jacket pocket and work my golf ball over. I remember w
hen my mom first got me worry beads. I used them so much, they were constantly breaking. As a joke, my dad said the most durable thing he could think of was a golf ball. As silly as the idea seemed, it turned out to be the most effective solution.

  I don’t know how to answer Zoe’s question about why I don’t just ask my boss what he needs from me. A million thoughts hit my head at the same time and I am too stressed to sort them out right now. I can’t believe I actually told Zoe about myself. It’s not something I typically explain. I don’t know if she understands anything — but it seems like she might.

  Before I can get too lost in my thoughts, I hear the sound of Zoe coming down the hall and an odd sound I can’t identify. Zoe knocks softly on the door as she asks, “Are you ready for us?”

  “I think I am,” I respond.

  Zoe opens the door and then maneuvers a child’s wagon into the room. “I didn’t know how much walking Bruiser should do, so I improvised. We use these wagons to carry around dog food.”

  I smile. “That was a good idea.”

  As soon Bruiser hears my voice, he gingerly jumps out of the wagon and climbs onto the couch. He lays his head in my lap and lets out a heavy breath.

  “Look at that! He knows who helped save him,” Zoe comments.

  “Do you think that’s actually true?” I ask as I reach down and stroke Bruiser’s ears. They are so soft.

  “I think it’s true. Rescue dogs have something a little extra special. I don’t know I might be reading into things, but they seem more grateful than other dogs.”

  I continue to stroke Bruiser’s head as I respond, “That’s weird. You wouldn’t think a dog would understand something that complex.”

  “Hang around me a couple of days, and I’ll show you all the things they can learn. I teach dogs to be the eyes for people who cannot see, the ears for people who can’t hear, and to be the legs for people who cannot walk. I also teach dogs to find the lost and to comfort those who are left alone in the world,” Zoe explains poetically.

  Bruiser licks my hand and nudges me to pet him some more. “I wish you could train a dog to help me. Maybe if I was more normal, I wouldn’t have to find a new place to work.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Zoe says abruptly. “I’m starving, and this sounds like a long conversation.”

  “Umm, okay,” I stammer in the direction of Zoe’s retreating back. I look down at Bruiser and ask, “Was it something I said?”

  Bruiser just lays his head back down on my lap. I thought maybe he would follow Zoe. Maybe he’s staying put because he doesn’t feel well. As I’m waiting for Zoe to return, my stomach growls audibly. It has been a long time since I’ve eaten. Maybe that’s why I have a persistent headache.

  For a few minutes, I just sit there and stroke Bruiser. Something about the soft texture of his ears and the way he responds to my touch seems to take the edge off my stress. I'll be sorry when I have to say goodbye. I have to keep in mind that I have three thousand miles and twenty-eight days to get there. I don’t know what I’ll do once I get to Oregon, but I need to stick to some sort of plan.

  Zoe enters the room as abruptly as she left. To be honest, it startles both Bruiser and me.

  Zoe spreads a blanket out on the floor of the room. When she’s finished, she digs through a large grocery sack. “I’m sorry, all I had was whole-wheat bread. But, I have peanut butter and jelly or egg salad. Which would you prefer?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, baffled by her actions.

  “We’re having a picnic. What do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

  “You’ve never had a picnic before? Even when you were a little kid you didn’t make blanket forts in the living room with your friends and have a picnic in the middle of a blanket?”

  “No, definitely not, my mom is a huge germaphobe. She would never allow food to get that close to the floor.”

  Zoe’s brows crease as she says, “That’s too bad. Picnics are fun. Come see what I brought. I’ve got sandwiches, chips, and some lemonade.” She pats the blanket in front of her. “Come on down. There’s lots of room. I can’t eat all this food myself.”

  “I need to wash my hands. I’ve been petting the dog. You should always wash your hands after you pet a dog.”

  Zoe giggles. “Do you think I’d disagree with that? The bathroom is down the hall and to the left. We even have antibacterial soap.”

  I get up to leave and Bruiser follows me. I look toward Zoe as I try to figure out what to do.

  She shrugs. “If he feels well enough to walk, Sydney didn’t say he couldn’t. She simply didn’t want him to be jumping around and playing with other dogs.”

  “Is it okay if he leaves this room?”

  “If it’s all right with Bruiser, it’s all right with me.”

  “Don’t I need a leash or something?”

  Zoe gracefully gets up from the ground. “If there’s one thing we have around here, its leashes of all shapes and sizes. I’ll go get you one.”

  I stand and wait as Zoe leaves the room. Fortunately, she’s back before I can over-think my situation.

  “Just hold this loosely at your side so Bruiser knows where you want him. He might pull at first, but we can fix that on another day.”

  Zoe reaches down and connects a bright red leash to Bruiser’s collar. His tail wags with anticipation. He seems to think something great is going to happen. I can’t help but grin at the happy expression on his face. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Bruiser. I’m not going anyplace exciting. I’m just going to go to the restroom.”

  “Did he try to get up when I left the room the first time?” Zoe asks with the contemplative look on her face.

  “No, he just kind of took a nap on my lap,” I respond as Bruisers sits. He is looking up at me expectantly.

  “Lucky you! It looks like Bruiser has chosen his human being and you are it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ZOE

  AFTER PHOENIX LEAVES THE ROOM, I take a deep breath and blow it out. I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t understand the concept of a picnic. Maybe it’s a gender thing. I used to get together with my friends and hold picnics and tea parties. I thought everyone did that kind of stuff — but maybe not.

  I’m not relating very well to Phoenix. We appear to have issues connecting. But, Bruiser seems to have dialed into his wavelength. Honestly, I’m surprised. Many of the stray dogs who come into Hope’s Haven are scared of men. The same can't be said for Bruiser. It’s clear Bruiser is Phoenix’s number one fan. I probably should have supervised the trip to the bathroom, but I didn’t want to crowd Phoenix. Even if my decision was a mistake, I can’t very well go chasing after him without it being obvious I am checking up on them.

  I resume setting out the food. It’s an odd thing to pack dinner for someone you don’t know. Hopefully, I guessed right.

  Phoenix and Bruiser come back in the room. I’m almost afraid that Bruiser belongs to someone. He has great leash manners. Unfortunately for Phoenix, it probably means Bruiser is not a true stray dog. Maybe he jumped out of the back of someone’s pickup or escaped from a local tractor which was pulled over on the side of the road.

  “Did everything go well?” I ask Phoenix.

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly rocket science, I just went to wash my hands.”

  “That’s true — but you and Bruiser don’t know each other well and sometimes it takes a while to develop that kind of partnership.”

  “It was fine. You could’ve told me there is a cat running around the building though.”

  I slap my forehead in frustration as I admit, “You know, in all the drama of today. I completely forgot about Firecracker. Sorry about that. How did Bruiser do?”

  “He did okay, I guess. He was a little startled by the cat. But, then again so was I.”

  “That’s a good sign. At least he is not aggressive toward cats. That will make it easier to find an adoptive home for him if we can’t l
ocate his owners.”

  “You wouldn’t let him go back to the people who allowed him to run on the freeway, would you?”

  “I don’t know. The decision wouldn’t be mine. That would be something that Dr. Austin and Mitch would determine.”

  “Well, if they threw him away like yesterday’s garbage, they shouldn’t be allowed to have animals.”

  “Since we don’t know who he belongs to, we don’t know what happened. I guess time will tell. Are you going to come in and have something to eat?” I ask as Bruiser and Phoenix stand in the doorway.

  “What should I do with the dog?” Phoenix asks.

  “Bring him with you,” I instruct. “It’s never too early to teach table manners.”

  “Seriously? Gizmo would eat everything in sight.”

  “You definitely need to get her into some obedience training. I suspect that Bruiser here already has the basics down. His heel command and leash manners are impeccable.”

  “I don’t know if I should be happy or sad about that. Hopefully, if he has good owners, you’ll be able to find them.”

  “If he has a human family out there, they’re probably missing him. I’ll ask Dr. Austin to put the word out to other local vet clinics.”

  Phoenix shortens up the leash and walks Bruiser over to the couch. “Up!” he commands.

  Bruiser gingerly climbs up on the couch and lies down as he wags his tail enthusiastically.

  “Good job!” I compliment. “Sometimes when dogs are hurt, they forget their training. Bruiser seems to listen to you well despite his injuries.”

  Phoenix shrugs. “I watch a lot of Animal Planet. I guess I picked up some tips along the way.”

  I hold out a paper plate I got from the break room while Phoenix was washing his hands. I place a bag of chips on the side of it and pick up a sandwich. I look up at Phoenix and ask, “PB & J or egg salad?”

  “Please don’t do that,” Phoenix says with an anguished expression.

  “Do what? I thought you were hungry.”

  Phoenix scrubs his hand down his face. “I am hungry, that’s why I don’t want you to put my sandwich next to other food. I have a weird thing about my food touching. It stresses me out.”