Page 28 of Roommate
Even though my brother is a dunderhead, and I’m sometimes angry at him, I experience a familiar moment of compassion towards him. He looks absolutely bereft. Don’t go, his eyes say.
Men don’t voice these things aloud, though. So Kyle gives a bewildered shrug.
“I’ll come out Monday for chores,” I say. “And if you decide to bale the rest of the straw, let me know and I’ll arrange it so we can do that together.”
“All right.” His voice is thick. He finally lifts his end of the desk and waits for me to do the same.
We maneuver the wooden desk down the stairs and outside while Mom holds the door. We lift it into the truck’s bed, and I shut the tailgate with a satisfying clunk.
“That’s it, I guess,” he says as the dog trots up.
Rex sits down and whines at my feet, licking his chops, and looking nervous. It’s a little unusual for me to load up the truck and drive away at night. He can tell that something different is happening.
“You’re coming with me, boy?”
He beats his tail against the gravel drive.
“Okay, man. Let’s get your dish and your leash. You can try out city living.”
Rex is a free-range mutt. We think he may be a pit bull and Labrador mix. He grew up running around our fifty-acre farm, but Rexie has slept in my room every night for ten years, since the neighbor gave him to me as a puppy. My rental house has a yard, and I’d been hoping it would be enough space for an aging farm dog. Colebury isn’t exactly a city, and he might even love it there. If he doesn’t, I’ll make the difficult decision to bring him back out here to stay with Kyle.
Kyle and I walk back to the house once again. My mother is fretfully swiping a sponge on the table, and my dad is seated in the same chair that was killing him earlier. I lean down to pick up Rex’s water bowl and food dish.
“What are you doing?” my father asks.
“Rex will need these,” I say quietly.
“You can’t take Rex,” my father growls. “He’s our dog.”
I freeze on the way to the sink, where I’d meant to empty out the water bowl. “He’s mine. He always has been.”
“I’ve fed that dog for ten years,” my father storms.
“Dad,” Kyle says, shock in his voice. “Rexie loves Kieran.”
“Don’t take the dog,” my father rants. “He keeps the raccoons away from the chickens. And he chases off the deer. He’s part of the family. We can’t do without him. Please.”
I’m just standing here holding two dog dishes, not sure what to do. He has a point about the predators. But there’s so much more to this story. He’s willing to fight for a ten-year-old mutt who farts loudly during dinner. He’ll even say please.
He didn’t beg for me to stick around, though. No tears for me.
With my heart in my throat, I set the bowls back down on the floor. “Fine,” I say under my breath. “I see how it is.”
My mother twists the sponge, looking between me and my father, wondering if he’ll relent.
But nope.
I shove my hands in my pockets and stride right out of there.
Kyle follows me again, the screen door banging behind him. “Kieran,” he says, hurrying to catch up. “He didn’t mean it like it sounded.”
I don’t even bother to argue. Rex is waiting patiently by my truck for me, and his tail thumps as I approach. “You’re going to have to hold him.”
Kyle curses under his breath. “Maybe we can find another farm dog for dad.”
“Maybe.” I kneel down in front of Rexie. “Stay here, man. I’ll see you for chores on Monday.” I stroke him between the ears, and his tail thumps faster. “Be a good boy.” When I stand and open my truck’s door, he tries to follow me.
Kyle lunges forward and hooks two fingers in his collar. “Come on, Rex. Let him go.”
