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  “Really? They’re just on the same plate; they’re not even touching.”

  “Oh, I know. But they could touch. I suppose it’s a lot like other people when they hear obnoxious sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard. If my food is touching, I find it hard to concentrate on anything else.”

  “Wow! How do you eat out at a restaurant?”

  “I don’t go often,” he admits.

  “Isn’t that going to make it difficult for you to be on a road trip? It’s not like you can carry around a refrigerator on your motorcycle.”

  Phoenix lowers himself to the ground, but he seems uncertain about what to do next. “I figure I’ll have to be careful about ordering.”

  “I don’t want to stress you out any more than you already have been today. So, feel free to use as many plates as you want to,” I answer as I gesture to the stack of plates.

  “Are you sure?” Phoenix asks.

  I nod. “Knock yourself out. We have plenty.”

  “Thank you for not making me feel weird about this. A lot of people think if I just try it a few times, it won’t be a big deal.”

  “Well, that’s rude!” I exclaim as I hand him a bowl of grapes.

  Phoenix takes a sandwich, some grapes and a bag of Doritos. He puts one item on each plate. Much to my surprise, Bruiser is peacefully sleeping on the couch. His soft snore sounds loud in the quiet room. Phoenix picks up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and takes a bite.

  “It’s grape. I like grape jelly.”

  I smile. "I like it too. My favorite is apricot. My brother says I’m not normal. He says normal people like strawberry jelly.”

  “At least you’re not as weird as me.” Phoenix shrugs. “I don’t think people know how much I wish I could do normal things. I wish there was some kind of service dog for autism.”

  “There are dogs like that. They haven’t gained as much popularity as hearing dogs or guide dogs for the blind. However, they can be a lifesaver,” I explain.

  “What does a service dog for autism do? It’s not like a dog could help me understand social situations, and he couldn’t make me stop being weird about food,” Phoenix argues.

  “Maybe not, but when you start getting upset and uptight, I can train a dog to distract you. Many people with autism who have service dogs find it’s easier to interact with people because you have a ready topic of conversation. Nearly everyone loves dogs and will talk about them with no prompting. It takes the stress off of you having to come up with something to say.”

  “Sometimes, that would be nice — especially at work. I’m notoriously bad at small talk. People think I’m rude, but I’m really not. When I talk to people I don’t know well, I can get distracted by what they’re wearing, if they’re wearing aftershave or perfume or if they need a haircut. It makes it hard for me to concentrate on what they’re saying. If people are joking between themselves, it’s even harder. Sometimes I have trouble figuring out whether something is supposed to be funny.”

  “That must be hard. It reminds me of when I was in school and the teacher would have kids from the class read aloud in front of everyone. I hated it because I’m dyslexic and I can't read well. I’m also painfully shy in a group. So, reading in front of people was my nightmare. I used to try to get out of class by going to the nurses office just so I wouldn’t have to face the shame of reading like a kindergartner.”

  “I can’t imagine being dyslexic. It would make my job very hard.”

  “Yeah, it does. I also have dyscalculia which means entering sales into a cash register and making change is hard for me too.”

  “Wow! I love math so much I automatically do it in my head.”

  I shake my head in disbelief as I comment, “Well, you are welcome to all the numbers because I don’t get along very well with them. Now you know why I am a dog trainer.”

  “Maybe you’re not as normal as I thought you were,” Phoenix observes.

  I laugh as I lift my hair off my neck to show him a neon blue swatch of my hair. “No one has ever accused me of being normal. This is toned down from how I usually wear it. I decided if I was representing Hope’s Haven, I should fit in a little better.”

  “But, you’re different because you choose to be,” Phoenix counters with a shrug.

  I sigh. “Not always. Anyway if I could train you a dog to work with your autism, would you be interested?”

  Phoenix puts down his plate and fiddles with the strings which tie off the quilt. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m ever coming back to Florida.”

  “Why? I thought you worked for Tristan. He says you are one of his most valuable employees.”

  “You could’ve fooled me. I think he’s sending me to Oregon so he can fire me. He doesn’t seem very happy with the way I relate to my coworkers. He said I need to interact more. I don’t know if he understands. It’s not like I can just turn the autism off when I’m at work. It’s too bad though, because I really liked my job.”

  Choosing my words carefully, I respond. “I don’t know Tristan all that well, but he doesn’t seem to be that kind of guy. He has people with disabilities who work for him. John Ashford is blind. He has one of our guide dogs, Tuffy.”

  “I don’t know what to think. He is opening a whole new branch of Identity Bank in Oregon. He wants me to check it out to see if I would like to work there.”

  “Is Tristan demoting you?” I ask skeptically.

  “No, that’s the weird part. He told me about all the things I needed to fix during my performance evaluation, but then he said I deserved a promotion. After the meeting was over, he told me it had been too long since my last vacation and ordered me to take some time off.”

  “I’m guessing that’s why you’re traveling across the United States on a motorcycle?”

  “Yeah … um … I don’t really fly.”

  “I understand. I don’t like to fly much either,” I say with a shudder. “I think you should ask Tristan what he meant by his suggestions. What little I know of Tristan, I think he probably meant to give you a promotion. Do you want to go to Oregon?”

  My question seems to stop Phoenix cold. For several moments, he is silent. Bruiser must be able to sense something because he climbs off the couch and puts his head in Phoenix’s lap. Phoenix reaches out and strokes his ears. “I don’t know the answer to that.”

  “Then why are you on your bike headed across the United States?”

  Phoenix shrugs as he continues to pet Bruiser. “I didn’t want to tick off my boss. He already seemed like he was upset with my performance. I didn’t want to give him another reason to fire me. I like my job.”

  “I don’t know — it seems pretty drastic to ride clear across the United States to check out a job you don’t actually want.”

  “I’m not sure if I want the job. But, this trip is more than just about that. It’s about challenging myself to do things I haven’t done before — you know like we talked about ordering food in a restaurant and not following a specific map calculated down to the tenth of a mile.”

  “I’m impressed. I don’t know if I could just take off on a road trip. I really wish I could right about now. Things in my personal life are a complete mess,” I remarked wistfully.

  “What’s wrong?” Phoenix asks.

  “Just nasty family stuff I would like to make disappear. I wish I could go back in time before I knew any of this stuff was going on.”

  “We could rent you a bike. You could come with me.”

  I gather up the remnants of our picnic lunch.

  “You have no idea how much I wish I could say yes to that. Unfortunately, I have to stick around to testify against my brother.”

  Phoenix’s eyes widen. “Why?”

  I throw away our garbage and then sit back down on the blanket. I hug my knees to my chest. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but maybe I just need to talk to a decent human being. My family is redefining the word horrible right now. Each conversation is more frustrati
ng than the last.”

  Phoenix regards me silently as he waits for me to continue.

  “So, I'll tell you about it — even if you don’t really want to hear it.”

  “I asked,” Phoenix responds succinctly.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I reply with a weak smile. “This is long, ugly and painful.”

  Phoenix nods before he takes a drink of his soda.

  “Okay, I told you that I have an older brother named Vincent. Most of us call him Vinnie although he recently chewed us all out for using his nickname. He considers himself a serious business person and wants to be known by his full name. Anyway, Vinnie was supposed to marry this woman named Katie. On his wedding day, he seemed to go absolutely crazy because Katie was wearing an ivory dress instead of a white one. Understandably, she decided she didn’t want to marry my brother. The police tell me he was trolling underage girls online and tried to kidnap one to be his wife after Katie said no.”

  “Why would he do that?” Phoenix asks.

  “I don’t know!” I exclaim. “My whole childhood I worship the ground Vincent walked on. He is about seven years older than me and I thought everything he did was cool and amazing. This behavior makes no sense to me. I don’t know when my brother turned into a creepy abuser.”

  “Was he that way when he was younger?”

  “I’m not sure about that either. He and I never went to the same school together because he is so much older than me.” I answer. But even as I say those words, I remember the gossip. “Whenever I would tell anyone Vinnie was my brother, people would get a strange, guarded expression on their face. Almost without fail, someone would ask me ‘Are you all right?’ I didn’t understand why everyone reacted that way.”

  “When did you put all the pieces together?” Phoenix asks. “I mean, you must’ve made a decision about him since you are testifying against him.”

  “I don’t want to testify against Vinnie, but it’s the right thing to do. He can’t go around hurting people. That’s wrong. I guess after I asked him about it and he dodged and denied my questions, I found Katie’s story to be more believable. I remember the sidelong glances teachers would give me at school. Finally, I asked one of my friends to ask her older brother what it was all about. He told my friend Vinnie had a reputation for slapping his dates around. I was shocked! This was the first time I had heard anything about Vinnie hurting people. My brother can be uptight and pious, but I never thought he would hurt someone.”

  “Sometimes, people surprise us, and it’s not always good,” Phoenix remarks.

  “Tell me about it. When I tried to ask him, he made it sound like the girls and women deserved what he had done. I couldn’t believe it when he said it. No one deserves what he did to that poor young girl. He tried to force her to marry him. Who does that? I don’t even recognize my brother anymore. He’s not the hero I grew up with.”

  “I take it your parents have sided with your brother?”

  I nod as I wipe away a tear. “Yeah, in a big way. Everyone is mad at me because I’m going to testify to what I know and what I overheard at the wedding. My mother especially thinks it's unseemly for me to tell the story publicly. My parents have a great deal of standing in the local community and they find this whole matter completely embarrassing.”

  “They should probably be mad at your brother for assaulting women.”

  I nod vigorously. “Exactly! You'd think so, right? But that’s not the way they’re taking it. Even though they were at the wedding too and saw what unfolded, they’ve rallied around Vinnie. I am the person who is on the outs even though I did nothing wrong. It makes me not want to trust anybody — especially the people I love.”

  “I can’t say I blame you,” Phoenix says. His eyes are filled with pain.

  Bruiser climbs out of Phoenix’s lap and comes over to me to lick my face. “At this point, the only creatures I trust on the planet are my dogs. I don’t believe in anyone else. I probably never will,” I assert before tears flow down my face.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  PHOENIX

  “WAKE UP, SLEEPY HEAD!” ZOE greets me through the closed door. “Bruiser wants to take a walk.”

  I’m groggy as I sit up and look around. I can’t believe I fell asleep here. Usually, strange environments make me so edgy I can’t rest. Yet, I seem at peace in this room. “I’ll be right out,” I respond quickly I shuck my jogging pants and put on jeans and a T-shirt.

  I roll up my sleeping bag and put my backpack over my shoulder. I awkwardly make my way past Zoe and Bruiser in the doorway. “I’m going to stop by the bathroom first,” I announce and then cringe. Zoe probably didn’t need to know that.

  I quickly do the rest of my morning routine and meet them by the door to the dog yard.

  “Good morning. Wow! Bruiser looks a lot better this morning.”

  “I think the anti-inflammatory Dr. Austin put him on is helping. You’re right. He's much perkier this morning. He is definitely ready for a walk.”

  When he hears the word walk, Bruiser sits at my feet.

  “He sure is well-behaved. I bet he belongs to someone,” I say as I stroke Bruiser’s head and attach the leash to his collar.

  “I called some of the local vets and the rescue organizations around town. No one is familiar with Bruiser.”

  “Did you check online? Sometimes there are Lost and Found groups,” I suggest.

  Zoe nods. “Yeah, I spent quite a bit of time scouring the Internet this morning while I was drinking my coffee. So far, nothing.”

  I know I should probably feel terrible about the fact that we can’t find Bruiser’s family. Instead, I feel relieved.

  “Do you think someone dumped him out of the vehicle on the highway?” I ask. “I didn’t see anyone on the side of the road or anything.”

  Zoe shrugs. “Who knows? I’ve seen stranger things happen.”

  Bruiser whines to remind us we are supposed to be walking. I snap my fingers and Bruiser comes around and sits by my left side.

  “What a good boy!” Zoe exclaims as she opens the back door. “I don’t think Bruiser is a runner. But just in case, today we’ll walk inside the fence.”

  As we walk by a bucket of tennis balls, Bruiser’s ears perk up. I look up at Zoe and ask, “Can I toss him a few?”

  “Nope. Remember Dr. Austin said Bruiser needed to take it easy because of the possibility he might have internal bruising?”

  I stop and look at Bruiser. “Sorry, buddy you need to heal up a little before we can play.”

  Bruiser’s ears droop comically. I glance up at Zoe. “Now I feel bad.”

  “Just think how happy he’ll be once he gets a chance to run and play again. It sounds like you and Bruiser would make a good pair.”

  I sigh. “I wish I could. But I have to get on the road to Oregon. Who knows how long I'll be there. Besides, I’ve already got Gizmo at home. I don’t know if she would want to share me.”

  Zoe holds up her hand to catch raindrops as she says, “Are you sure you want to take off today? It seems like it’s going to be nasty out here. Look at all those black clouds.”

  “I’ve got rain gear,” I explain. “If I postpone my trip every time there’s bad weather, I would never get to Oregon. I’ve got two thousand nine hundred and twenty miles to ride.”

  As we walk around the yard, pausing for Bruiser to do his thing, “I hate to be nosy, but are you going to call Tristan and talk to him about your job before you go?”

  I scrub my hand down my face before I answer, “I spent a lot of time last night thinking about that. You’re probably right. I do need to check in. I hate talking on the phone.”

  “You can borrow my computer if you want to send him an email —” Zoe offers.

  “I need to have this conversation with Tristan in person.”

  Zoe looks down at Bruiser who is sitting on my left side. “It seems like Bruiser has finished his business. Do you want some breakfast before you head back toward town?
”

  I shrug. “I don’t suppose you have Cheerios?”

  “Actually, I do. Would you like some?”

  Before I can answer, my stomach growls.

  “Well, that’s one way to answer,” Zoe says with a smirk.

  Zoe digs some keys out from her fanny pack. We walk over to the house on the property, and she lets herself in.

  “This is a nice house. Do you live here?”

  Zoe laughs out loud. “Not officially — but I’m here so much that I might as well. This is my boss’ house. He and his wife are out of town at the moment.”

  “Is it all right if we are here?”

  “Yes, part of my duties include house-sitting for Mitch and Jess. They don’t mind if I feed myself while I’m here.”

  “I eat a lot,” I caution.

  “I have yet to meet a guy who doesn’t eat half a box of cereal at a time. That includes my dad, granddad, and brother.”

  “I’ll leave you some money. You could buy another box of cereal for them.”

  “Seriously, it’s no big deal,” she dismisses my offer with a light laugh.

  When we get inside, Zoe shows Bruiser a dog bed. He promptly crawls into the bed and closes his eyes.

  I look at Zoe with alarm, “Maybe he’s not as well as we thought he was. If he’s tuckered out by just that short walk, there might be something wrong with him.”

  Zoe smiles at my remark. “I don’t think I would worry quite yet. Bruiser seems like a pretty laid-back dog. He might just be one of those dogs who like to take naps.”

  Zoe walks over to the kitchen sink and washes her hands. As she starts to dry them, her phone rings. The tone is shrill and insistent. She rolls her eyes at me as she comments, “As much as I don’t want to, I need to take this.”

  She walks into the living room. I’m not sure what I should do. I’m in a strange house, and I don’t know where anything is. I wish I could be as comfortable as Bruiser. This home is a little much for me with bright colors splashed everywhere.

  I sit down on a barstool and pull out my phone. I need to recalculate my plan to account for missing two days of riding time. I’m relieved to find that it only adds eight minutes of driving time to each day. I think I can handle that. As much as I love the freedom of riding my motorcycle, some things bother me. Road noise is terrible and sometimes, depending on my stress level, just the feel of the air against my face and hands puts me into sensory overload. That’s why am trying to limit my driving time each day. Some days, I’m sure I will ride more. But there might be other days where I can’t bring myself to get on my bike.