บท 72: 72. Chapter 72
Dashiell has a dog.
He has a great big black dog, a dog that watches him and is quiet and doesn't have too much noise.
"T-Rex," Dash murmurs and puts his face against the dog's neck, blocking out all but his dog. He snakes his arms around Rex's body, feels the heart and the soft, warm skin and the bristled fur. His dog. He has a dog.
Mommy said no. Yesterday. The other day. Mommy said no, not even with any hint of maybes or buts in there, just no. Only now, Mommy has said yes.
He lifts his face and blinks in the light, sees Mommy at the table watching him, not talking to Rafe and Allie anymore. "Mommy."
She gets up and kneels in the floor with him, pets his dog, scratches Rex behind the ears. "I know you're so happy, baby. But it's almost bedtime. Ella's taking her bath right now, and you're going to be next. Are you ready for that?"
"Can Rex take a shower with me?"
Mommy shakes her head no, brushes her fingers through his hair as if she is petting him, the boy, not the dog.
"Mommy, but-"
"No, baby. Dogs take baths, and you will definitely get to help us bathe him. But boys shower."
He doesn't even care that she's said no to this, because next to this dog, this dog he has, everything is yes. "Mommy, my dog."
She brings him into her lap with a strong, strong hug, one of the good kinds, and he likes - so much - her squeezing, and he sighs into it, rests his cheek against her shoulder. She smells good. And a little bit like his dog. A new smell on top of the other, better, comforting ones. He's very tired; he knows now. Can feel it making him limp as noodle as Mommy squeezes.
The dog nudges him, and the tired goes away. Dash lifts his head, turns to look back at his big black dog. "Mommy, you got me my dog. You rescued him."
"Daddy did. He called and drove us over there and adopted him."
Dash hooks an arm around her neck and leans out from her lap to hook his other arm around the dog's neck and brings them both together, close, tight, good. "My dog. Mommy, I love my dog."
"I know you do," Mommy says, and she's not laughing at him, it's not that kind. He likes this kind, soft and it makes her hands brush his cheek, run through his hair. A laugh of good things, a laugh like saying yes.
"Can T-Rex sleep with me?"
"Yes, baby."
Oh. Oh, his dog-
"Really? I want him to. He can? He won't jump off, will he?"
"Baby, I don't know. A lot of things might happen. He might wake you up in the middle of the night if he dreams, or gets back on the bed, or scratches at the door. I don't know yet. We'll have to see. Are you okay with not knowing?"
Well, no. Of course not. But it's his dog. And the dog is a rule of himself. In himself. To himself. He is a big black rule. And so if other rules get sharply bent, or even broken-?
"If he scratches, can I get up and let him out?"
"Yes, baby," Mommy says, a kiss on his cheek as she says it. "You're going to be five. Daddy and I think you're a smart guy, you know when you might need to break some rules."
"All the rules can be bent," he repeats. Ms. Julie taught him that. It helps. Because the rules shouldn't be broken, but bending makes sense. Flexing the rules, like being flexible when things don't go his way.
But he has a dog.
Mommy rubs his back. "Having a dog is a big responsibility. But Daddy and I think you're ready to take care of him, to be responsible."
"I am. I can, Mommy." He lets go of her neck and slides off her lap to sit by his dog. T-Rex sits too, licks his hand as he lifts it to pet his head. The fur is so soft right at his nose, between his eyes.
"Then that means you have to be a responsible boy with everything else too. When it's time for bath, Rex doesn't want to watch you throw a fit. It might make him upset because now he belongs to you and you to him. So instead, you walk into the bathroom and let Daddy help you shower."
"Okay." That makes sense too. "I don't want Rex to see me throw a fit."
"Well, it will happen eventually. We can't always be perfect. Sometimes we're too tired to try to be responsible. That's okay too."
"That's okay," he murmurs, stroking the black head, the path of fur that runs between his eyes and back, behind his ears. Skull. Daddy says everything with bones has a skull, a grinning skull, hiding beneath the skin, like a body under clothes. Dogs have skulls too then. He can feel T-Rex's skull. And see his teeth when he yawns like that, pink tongue curling.
"Ellie likes his tongue," he says and turns back to Mommy, grinning at her. "Ellie says she likes pink tongues. I told her she can take care of his tongue and his tail, but Mommy, I want him to sleep with me. Not Ellie."
Mommy laughs, more good sounds, cups his cheek, brings his forehead against hers. "No matter what happens, you're a good boy, Dash. And don't worry. T-Rex gets to sleep with you."
His whole body tightens up, so tight, and then breaks, free and a thousand pieces, all of it tumbling in the air like flying. "You're a good Mommy," he says and squeezes her around the neck, tries to put it all in that squeeze, everything.
Her hair is as soft as Rex's is, between his eyes. But she smells better.
Daddy starts his shower and puts the soap and shampoo where he can reach. He tells him that his dog can stay in the bathroom with him, but Rex can't get in the shower. That's okay, because if Dash peeks around the corner of the shower curtain, he can see his dog lying down in the floor, on the bathmat, his tongue hanging out, waiting for him.
He scrubs his hair with shampoo like he's supposed to. That's first. Second is rinsing with his eyes closed tight. He sputters in the water, laughs, gets water and shampoo in his mouth and has to spit it out. Daddy comes to check on him, calling out over the water.
"You good?"
"Good!"
Daddy leaves, and Dash checks to be sure the door is open a crack, for fresh air for his dog. It is. He goes to number three, the soap, and suds it up really good. Lots of lather. Lather is one of his favorite words. Daddy says that soap lathers, and horses lather too. One in bubbles and one in sweat. Dash wants to see a horse lather in sweat sometime, to see if it really does look like soap lather, foam and white.
It probably smells bad. He doesn't like bad smells, but if he stood away and maybe if he had Mommy with him, because Mommy smells good and her smell layers over everything in his brain, makes everything calm again, then even a horse with lather would be okay.
Number four is rinsing everything off his body. All the dirt and germs go away, and lots of sand too. Under his feet and crunching as he moves. Dash kicks his feet into the water in the bottom of the tub, gets some of the sand to disappear down the drain, then squats down and uses his hands to push it. Like a wall of torrential water against the tiny sand beasts-
"Ahhhhh," he murmurs for them, hearing their tiny yells as they get sucked back by the great tidal wave. "Crash." He slurps like the drain, laughing as the water runs down his head and into his eyes, pushing more sand down, destroying the whole sand beast kingdom in one fell swoop.
His dog! He forgot.
Dash jumps up, crashing into the shower curtain as he slips, catches himself on the edge of the tub. Ow. His elbow. His knee.
"Daddy!"
"You done?" Daddy pushes back the curtain and helps him out, shuts off the water for him.
"How's my dog?" Dash moves to get to T-Rex, but Daddy holds him back with a hand wrapped around his upper arm.
"Towel first. Dry off. Rex doesn't want to get wet."
Daddy smashes the towel in his face, and Dash laughs, hearing the sound of his own giggling through the cloth, rubs his cheeks and his head to dry off. Daddy helps him with the rest, leaning over to scrub the towel on his back, his legs, getting everything dry again.
He shakes off Daddy's hand and heads for T-Rex, the dog still lying on the bathmat, watching. Daddy grabs Dash back, keeping him away.
"Go run put on some pajamas, Dash. Then you can play with your dog."
Dash huffs and makes a mean face at Daddy, but he remembers T-Rex lying there, watching, and turns to look. He doesn't want to make his dog upset.
"Okay, Daddy." He makes a mad dash - like his name! - for the drawers with his clothes in them, hops up and down to keep warm, sits down in the floor as he tugs out underwear and pjs. He has only plain underwear left, no more Spiderman or Batman or even SpongeBob. He takes plain blue, wriggles into them, jumps up to get the waistband in place at his hips. Then he crawls onto the bed near the dresser and leans out to pull open his next drawer, with the clothes in it.
"Dash, careful." Daddy comes into the room with his dirty clothes and hangs his towel over the closet door knob. His big black dog is following behind, lies down by Dash's bed. How did his dog know that was his bed? Because Dash is standing on Rafe's bed, trying to get his clothes, but his dog knew where he was supposed to go. T-Rex is such a smart dog.
"I can't get to my pajamas."
"They're all down in the bottom drawers, buddy." Daddy wraps an arm around him and swings him down.
"But I want to wear my dog t-shirt to bed."
"I'll get it out for you. You look for pajama bottoms." Daddy closes the drawer Dash pulled out and goes for another one, higher up. Dash yanks open the next to bottom drawer and digs through the clothes until he finds green stripes. He holds them up by one leg, watching the stripes spin, dizzy, and then sits down and pulls them on.
"Here you go. No time for tv tonight, either."
"I know." He lifts his hands for his shirt and Daddy drops it on his face, making him laugh. The tshirt has all his favorite dogs playing poker on the front. Sitting up like people. Daddy plays poker with his friends, and sometimes Mommy plays, but Daddy says she's not allowed to play so much because she always wins. Mommy says that's not true, that Daddy is just scared of her mad skills. Dash thinks if Mommy was always getting mad at him playing a game, he wouldn't want her to play either.
Now in a soft shirt and soft pajamas and his hair wet but drying some, Dash stands up and runs to his dog, hugging him tightly, feeling him warm and black and big.
"Soft touch, Dash." Daddy pats his back, three times, four, then tugs him away. Dashiell stands up, climbs into bed without even needing help.
"Can T-Rex sleep with me up here?"
"Call him. See if he will."
"Come here, Rex. Come here." Dash pats the bed next to him and T-Rex lifts his head, floppy ears perking a little, and then the dog gets to his feet. "Up, up, T-Rex."
T-Rex is on his bed before he even sees the jump, the tongue licking his face as his dog stands over him. Dash giggles and flops back into bed as Daddy tries to arrange the covers again.
"Sleep, T-Rex." Dashiell wraps his arms around his dog and tugs so that Rex lies down with him too. "Good boy, good dog." His paws are out in front and he puts his head on them, watching Dash, lifting what could be eyebrows but aren't because dogs don't have eyebrows. But his eyes are open and watching.
"You sleep too, Dash. Don't spend all night talking to your dog, okay?" Daddy leans down and tucks the covers in as tightly as he can, but the dog is in the way a little, and Dash doesn't even mind that it's not how it should be.
Dash puts his arms around his Daddy and kisses him, hugging hard, hanging on so that Daddy has to stay there a minute more. "Thank you for saving my dog."
"Mommy's idea," Daddy whispers back. "She told me about him."
Then Daddy is growling and trying to eat him up, kissing and raspberrying and pretending to get him, and Dash giggles hard and tries to squirm away and then his dog is giving a happy little whuff in his throat and licking him and putting his nose in Dash's armpit and it all tickles-
Daddy stops, laughing back, presses his hand into Dash's chest to help calm him again. He can breathe now, and then T-Rex is lying back down, and then Dash opens his eyes and sees his Daddy waiting on him to get quiet.
"Good night, Dash."
"Night, Daddy."
"Love you, wild man."
Dash sighs with all the tickling happiness and lays his hand on his dog, feels Daddy starting to leave. Dash reaches out and grabs Daddy's hand, remembering at the last second.
"All the times, Daddy, in all the ways."
Daddy comes back, squeezing his neck with one hand as he kisses Dash on the forehead. "Always."
In the darkness, when things are supposed to be quiet but they never really are, Dashiell listens to the breath sounds of the black dog.
His people in the living room and kitchen are talking and eating the dinner that Rafe made, Ella is silent in her sleep, and the air conditioning hums like it's got something stuck in its throat. But the black dog breathes on his bed, some deeper breaths than others, his tail sometimes swishing over the covers.
After a few minutes, just to be sure Daddy and Mommy don't come back in his room, Dash lifts the covers and shakes so that the dog gets up.
"Under here, Rex. Come here," he whispers and the dog steps up to the head of the bed, waits while Dash pushes the covers down, then lies down close, snug. Dash pulls the covers back up over them both, tucking the dog in.
Rex sniffs at his ear, huffs a loud breath through his nose, then nudges Dashiell a few times before licking his neck.
Dash curls on his side, turning to his big black dog, and throws his arm around Rex. The dog's front paws are under Dash's pillow and the black head comes to rest beside his own.
"Good night, my dog."
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