Chapter Twenty-Nine
West
I followed Nina to her front door. She’d been so honest with me. Could I tell her what was really going on with my mom? If my dad ever found out, he’d be furious. It’s not like telling Nina would change the truth. Still…I hated not telling her the truth.
She unlocked the front door and Gidget bounded toward us. I could actually see dog fur flying off her as she moved.
“Hey, girl.” Nina reached down to pet Gidget. More fur went flying. “Do you need to go outside?”
I followed Nina to the back patio doors. Gidget walked outside and trotted around the yard with her nose to the grass, sniffing so deeply I could see her ribs expand like bellows.
“Is she trying to inhale the grass?” I asked.
“She’s probably on the trail of a rabbit,” Nina said, “even though we have a no-eating-the-bunnies agreement, which she sticks to most of the time.”
“What does that mean?”
“One day last spring, she brought my mom a bunny head, as a gift.”
“Just the head?”
Nina cringed. “Yes. Just the head. It was beyond disturbing. My mom and I both screeched and screamed and engaged in the mother of all freak-outs. So we traumatized the dog pretty good, too. Since then, we haven’t had any incidents.”
I now had two reasons not to have a dog: flying fur and random animal heads.
Wind whipped through the backyard. The temperature seemed to be dropping. It smelled like rain. I checked my cell. “Looks like a storm will be coming through.”
“Fair warning, Gidget hates storms.”
Lightning crackled off in the distance. Gidget’s ears flattened to her head, and she dashed back inside.
We followed the dog and sat on the couch. Nina grabbed the remote and scanned through the channels. “What do you want to watch?”
“American Ninja Warrior is probably on.”
“Sounds good.” She found the right channel. One of the contestants was about to run up the warped wall. “I have no idea how they can do that.”
“Practice,” I said. “All the people who are really good built their own obstacle courses in their backyards or they belong to Ninja gyms.”
“A Ninja gym sounds like fun,” she said.
“You want to be a bookworm, hippie-chick, American Ninja?” The idea made me smile.
“Maybe.”
Lightning flashed through the sky, followed by a blast of thunder that shook the house. Blonde fur streaked toward us and thumped into my chest. Suddenly, there was a large blonde beast on the couch with us.
“It’s okay, Gidget.” Nina hugged the dog who was sitting partially on her lap and part on mine. Gidget shivered and shoved her head under Nina’s arm.
“What is she doing?”
“When she’s scared, she turns into a giant lap dog.”
Giant was right. She must weigh sixty pounds. “Is she trying to play ostrich?”
“I guess.” Nina shrugged. “If my mom were home she’d be on her lap, instead.”
Gidget pulled her head out and turned to look at me.
“You’re kind of big to be a lap dog,” I said, like she might understand what I was saying. She must’ve misinterpreted the message because she stood, turned in a circle, and jammed her head behind my shoulder, shoving me forward.
Nina laughed.
“Your dog is weird.”
“Have you ever had a dog?” Nina asked.
“No, but Matt and Charlie do, and none of them ever acted like this.”
Gidget pulled her head out, pressed it against my chest, and whined. Big brown soulful eyes stared up at me. I caved and petted her. She snuffled against my chest and then sighed. Something wound tight inside of me relaxed. Even though there was a giant dog sitting on my diaphragm, it felt like I could breathe a little easier.
“Behold the magic of dogs,” Nina said in a quiet voice. “They unravel the stress in your soul.”
I paused. “Did you read that on a pet store sign?”
“No, I found it on Pinterest,” she said. “And I’d love to have it on a coffee mug because it’s the absolute truth.”
A jagged streak of lighting flashed through the sky followed by the crash of thunder. Gidget whined and looked at me like I was supposed to make the storm stop. “Sorry, I can’t turn off the thunder.”
“Hopefully, it will end soon,” Nina said.
We watched people hold on to ledges with their fingertips and run straight up walls for half an hour before the thunder stopped. Gidget finally relaxed enough to jump off the couch and go lie on her dog bed beside the coffee table. I was relieved, until I saw that half of Gidget’s fur remained on my shirt and pants.
“Don’t panic,” Nina said. “We have fur rollers.”
She scooted over, opened the drawer on the end table, and pulled out one of those sticky tape rollers.
“Do you have ten of those?”
“Probably. We buy them in bulk.” She peeled the cover off and handed it over. “Give it a shot.”
There was no way this thing would work, but it was my best option for the moment. I dragged the roller down the front of my shirt. In two swipes, it was full. I repeated the process and went through ten sticky sheets. “How is she not bald?”
“I ask her that question every day. And we asked the vet. Yellow Labs shed a lot.”
“I think that’s an understatement.” Blonde strands of fur were still sprinkled across my shirt. I pulled at one piece. “It’s like the fur imbeds in the fabric.”
“It will come out in the dryer. Just be sure to empty your lint trap.”
A disturbing image came to mind. “Your lint trap is full of dog fur, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
And she wasn’t the least bit upset by that fact. Just the idea of all my belongings covered in fur gave me the creeps. “You should distract me from the impending dog fur freak-out,” I said.
“Maybe you should come this way a little bit.” She reached over and put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me toward her. I met her halfway. Wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close felt natural. Everything about Nina felt soft and warm and right. Maybe there was something to her fate theory. Maybe we were meant to be together.