Oscar, Tiger and I finally got everything loaded into the truck. It wasn’t everything but I could return for the rest of it later. I have no emotional attachment to most of my crap, what little I had, so it could go to the thrift store, or whatever and I wouldn’t care.

Moving around a lot when you are a kid teaches you to not get attached to many things. It’s all stuff, most of it you can’t take with you, all you have are maybe some photos and the memories you want to keep.

I learned to leave the bad memories behind too.

Moving was always a fresh start.

Oscar did a good job driving my truck, even though he acted like he’d never driven one before. It was either that or my motorcycle, and as much as I liked the guy, no one but me rode my bike.

I wouldn’t mind him on the back with his arms and legs wrapped around me. I followed his tail lights home, and thought about whether or not I could convince him to get a bike too. The guy was seriously high strung. Maybe some time on the open road would help. At minimum, maybe I could take him for a ride sometime. He could wrap his arms around my waist, lean his head on my back…

Back at the house, he hopped out of the truck and handed me the keys. He pulled Tiger out and tucked him under one arm, and then lowered him onto the ground. He reached back into the truck and pulled out the file folder the chief gave me. He must have found it under the seat. “Are you in school?” he wanted to know. He flipped through the folder. “Or…are you supposed to be?”

Man this guy was nosy. “It’s nothing.” I tried to reach for the folder but he leaned back just in time so I couldn’t.

“I’m still reading,” Oscar said, as if he had any right to read my personal things. He looked over the papers to see where Tiger was and then delved back into the papers.

“It’s just something for work,” I growled. “The chief wants me to do a bunch of continuing ed stuff.”

“Ohhh, fun!” Oscar said, his eyes shining as he looked over the course descriptions.

Was this guy for real? “Fun? Okay. You have a messed up idea of what fun is,” I said. I decided to ignore this and busied myself lowering the tailgate and pulling things off the truck.

He looked up at me, as if he was surprised to see me standing on the truck moving boxes and furniture.

“I’m assuming since you went with me to move half my apartment here, that you are okay with me renting the guest house?” I said. I leaned against the edge of the mattress and fixed him with my most bored and patient stare.

Confusion clouded his face. “Uh, yes, that is the plan.” He shook his head and then buried his attention back in the file.

“Maybe you could unlock the door then?” I smiled at him, giving him one of those big fake smiles that show all your teeth. The kind kids do for photo, you know if anyone wanted to take photos of them.

His eyes flew wide and his mouth did that o-shape it did when I first saw him, and he snapped the folder closed. “I’m sorry, I forgot what I was doing.”

“No problem,” I grinned, as toothy as I could make it. I didn’t know how to tell him to back off from my work problems. I did not want to deal with any of that right now. “I just need to worry about the here and now.”

Oscar fumbled with his keys and threw open the guest house door, still holding the folder. He went inside and turned on what seemed like every light in the place. When he returned, he was empty handed.

“I left it on the kitchen counter for you,” he said.

We spent the next hour or so moving stuff out of the truck and into the house all while trying not to step on Tiger. He finally ran into his crate on his own and watched us from his doorway.

“That’s what you want,” Oscar said, pointing at Tiger’s little black nose resting on his big white paws. “The crate should be his sanctuary, not his jail. All of this commotion made him uneasy, so he ran to safety — his crate.”

“He’s a smart dog,” I said. Finally we hauled everything in, set up my bed and hung my clothes in the closet. The guest house furnishings almost made it seem homey.

Oscar put his hands on his hips. “You don’t have a lot of stuff. I like it.”

“I never learned how,” I frowned. Everyone else seemed to know how to handle so many possessions. “I think Tiger has more stuff than I do now.”

Oscar laughed. “Maybe! And he’s just getting started!”

Panic hit me for a moment. “Really? There will be more stuff?”

Oscar laughed again, and then realized I wasn’t joking. “Let’s just deal with one thing at a time. Forget I said anything.”

I rubbed my forehead and looked at the crate taking up residency in my new living room. “Is it okay if the crate is in my room or does he have to sleep in a separate room from me?”

“His crate can be in your room. Dogs are pack animals and they become distressed when they are separated from their pack, so it’s okay if his den is inside your den.”

Just then Oscar’s phone chimed. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the notification. The smile slid off his face, and he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Everything okay?” I asked. I didn’t know what was going on, and I’m not the prying type, but Oscar obviously carried a heavy load of stress on his shoulders.

Oscar shrugged, a frown twisting on his face. “I dunno. I need to eat. Do you need to eat?”

I did need to eat.

“Let me order something, my treat, to celebrate your move. I will tell you over dinner. I just need some food in me before I do much else.” Oscar ran his hands through his curls, which had the unintended effect of making his side swooping hair really fluffy. I pressed my lips together so I didn’t smile. He looked adorable, but I knew for sure he wouldn’t think so. He seemed too carefully put together to be happy about having crazy hair.

His hair looked really soft. I bet it was silky to touch, not that I would ever try. I admired him out of the corner of my eye, and kept my delight to myself. He was right about one thing. It was dinner time.

“While you order, I’ll take Tiger out,” I said, rubbing my hands on my jeans. “I’ll eat whatever.”

Oscar furrowed his brow at me. “You don’t have any food preferences?”

I stood, thinking, for a moment. Food preferences — oh yeah, those were a thing other people had. People who grew up with choices had food preferences. But Oscar didn’t need to know all that shit.

I shook my head, giving him my most nonchalant smile. “Nah, I’m easy. Whatever. If I don’t know what it is, I might need you to teach me how to eat it, but otherwise, I’ll eat anything.”

Yes, I had to be taught to eat sushi. And pho. And a million other things. I did okay now that I knew most of those kinds of things. Oscar gave off a refined vibe. He probably knew some stuff he could teach me. Everyone was a source of information to fill in the gaps created by my — the gaps of things I didn’t know.

Oscar seemed preoccupied enough by his own thoughts that he didn’t seem to notice how fucked up I was. Or maybe he was just too polite to let on. Either way, I could relax around him in a way I never have with someone else.

Between him and the dog, I was going to turn into a different person if I didn’t watch it. I had a carefully curated exterior to manage. But maybe I didn’t have to do that here, or with them. I’d already relaxed so much just having Tiger around.

I grabbed the leash off the hook in the kitchen and whistled softly. “Tiger! Let’s go out.”

Tiger’s ears instantly perked, and he jumped to his feet and bounded out of his crate.

“Tiger, sit.” I said, and waited like Oscar taught me for him to obey before I did anything else.

Oscar promptly sat his little round back end down, and watched me intently for the next command. “Good boy!” I said. “Wait.”

I could tell he wanted so badly to get up, but he stayed in his sit, and he waited for me to snap on his leash.  This little super star was already showing off today’s training. I pointed to him with waggling eyebrows, and Oscar grinned up at me, giving me a thumbs up before returning to his phone.

“Okay,” I said and Tiger trotted out by my side. He held his head high and proud, and did his business in his designated spot. He immediately looked up at me for praise, and went crazy when I gave it to him. His tail and entire back end waggled back and forth with bursting happiness.

This dog, he was so happy. Like pure happiness. Could I be that happy again?

Had I ever been that happy?

The past doesn’t matter. It doesn’t exist. I scolded myself.

Could I be that happy?

If anyone could show me how, it was my Tiger.

And maybe Oscar.