Page 38 of Clover

“Yeah, it’s great.” My enthusiasm is forced, but the sun does feel nice. After being inside in the filtered and circulated air conditioning, it’s nice to breathe in the smell of trees and fresh-cut grass.

“Just what you need. Things will be back to normal in no time. Just you wait and see.” Lily squeezes my arm reassuringly and adds one of her signature sweet as pie smiles to top it off. No doubt to distract me from the fact that we’re getting out of the line of sight from Nix’s house.

The farther we get, the more people we see, the more nervous I get. Rosie notices and draws my attention to her.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ve got you. No one is getting near you today.” She winks and suggestively pats the backside of her opposite hip. I turn to look at Lily, who does the same but pats her thigh under her flowy peasant skirt. Carrying a loaded weapon on a lazy afternoon stroll must be a Colton thing. Or is it a southern thing? I don’t know. But I’m grateful because knowing they’re packing actually does make me feel better. Pretty sure Zander has something on him as well, as he keeps a polite distance behind us, allowing us our girl talk space.

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, I continue putting one foot in front of the other. Allowing the sisters to push me past my comfort point and force me back into the world. Because I really do want to get back to normal. I hate the panic that rises like bile in my gut when I think about doing anything simple, like going to the grocery store alone. I can’t live the rest of my life fearing everything and everyone. I’ve never been like this. Braxton may not have broken me in the way he intended, but he did break something. My confidence, my strength. The girl who stood on the bar and fired off that shotgun is nowhere to be found. Instead, in her place is a fucking coward, and I hate it.

As we walk, we see tidbits of life. Housewives getting the mail and chatting with neighbors on the curb. Children riding bikes and laughing. A man on a riding lawn mower cutting his grass. Dogs barking in the distance somewhere. At first, it’s unnerving. All the sounds and movement. I can’t figure out where to look and where the threat might come from. But then my attention snags on one little girl all alone in her driveway. She can’t be more than five. Drawing on the ground with large colorful chalk sticks.

Her focus is solely on her chalk masterpiece. She doesn’t look up or have her head on a swivel watching for danger. In reality, she probably should have a little more stranger danger instinct, while on the other hand, it’s relieving to see her lack of fear. Her comfort in the safety of her home and neighborhood. Her blonde hair is tied up in pigtails and dangles in two long braids. At each end, a pink charm of some sort clips the ends together. Her chubby cheeks working away as she talks to herself and tilts her head side to side inspecting her work. As I watch, her face goes from scrunched contemplation to jubilant excitement. At that very moment, a man exits the house wearing a polo shirt and khakis. He reminds me of Nix, in a slightly more responsible, less muscled, and tattooed adult way. The little girl runs screaming, “Daddy, daddy, look at my drawing.” Squealing when he scoops her into his arms and adores her with a kiss on her cheek.

A place in my heart thumps heavily, watching the two. Jealousy over their smiles and happiness. As well as a lingering desire to see Nix hold a little girl like that. To see him hold her on his shoulders and teach her how to draw and paint. To carryourdaughter like that someday.Our daughter?Do I really think Nix is the fatherly type? Probably not. However, there are all the stories about him and his litter sisters. Perhaps he does want children? I’ve never asked him. Haven’t really had the right moment to talk about things like that. Can’t really bring it up in between wielding a gun in a bar and getting high and fucking on his balcony. We’re not exactly proper parenting material. But maybe someday we could be? Maybe? If he doesn’t get sick of me by then.

We turn a corner, and I can no longer see the little girl and her Nix look-alike father. I do know where the dog barking has been coming from now. One house down, we see a large sign painted on a piece of plywood and stuck in the ground on a spike.

Puppies for sale.

I freaking love puppies, and to be mauled and licked by a herd of them sounds like heaven right now.

“Let’s go look at the puppies.” Releasing Rosie and Lily, I stride faster towards the yard with the temporary fence placed in a large circle, filled with sweet little furballs of cuteness. I don’t wait for them to catch up, even though I’m sure Zander may have had a small panic attack when I took off from the girls before I step over the low childlike playpen fence and go right for the nearest puppy.

There’s a variety of colors and breeds romping around. Browns and yellows, mixed with a few black and greys. A dozen or so labs, poodles, and pit bulls run in circles biting each other’s ears and leaping at a couple of other people also playing inside the gate.

Rosie and Lily stand just outside the gate and watch from behind me. While Zander, who kept his distance, kneels down at the edge of the puppy pen and pets a few that run up to greet him. Giant teddy bear.

Called it.

A brown-haired middle-aged woman approaches us with a friendly smile and a wave.

“Hey there. How y’all doin’ today?”

“Just fine, thank you.” Lily answers in her southern sweet unintimidating voice.

“I’m Ellie-Mae. Are y’all interested in getting a puppy today?” she reaches out her hand, offering it to Rosie then Lily. Zander being the southern gentleman he is, stands and introduces himself before returning to the puppies and watching me.

“Oh no, we’re just—” Rosie starts, but I interrupt.

“Maybe. I always wanted a dog, but we moved around too much to have one.” My answer shocks my friends, and they look at me with renewed interest.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’m trying to get these cutie-pies to good homes as quick as possible. Practically givin' em away. Pure bread and papered with all their shots and ready to go home with a loving family today. Only three hundred dollars. Cash only.”

Ellie-Mae is a good saleswoman. Plus, it’s kind of hard to not be able to sell puppies. I mean, they’re puppies. They practically sell themselves.

“Why so cheap? Papered puppies usually go for ten times that amount.” Lily asks our new friend Ellie-Mae.

“Well. They were my grandad's. He bred dogs of all breeds for forty years. Sadly, he recently passed, and these are the last of the puppies from the litters he had when he died.” She gestures to the puppies currently attacking my face. Lapping me with kisses and cute as fuck puppy whimpers.

“I’m sorry for your loss. How did he pass?” Lily asks.

“Heart attack. It was very sudden. Just out feeding the dogs one morning, and then he’s on the ground clutching his chest.” Ellie-Mae tells Rosie and Lily about her grandad and his love of dogs while I turn my attention to the little cuties around me.

Sitting on the grass, I let them jump and leap on my lap. Climbing on my back and nibbling on my hair and ears. Cuddling into me and fighting over who gets to be closest. Just outside my little circle of new best friends, a silver-grey Pitbull with pale blue eyes paces, trying to find a way in but is unsuccessful. Instead, she sits and stares at me, waiting for her turn. I can’t help but watch her as I continue petting the other more enthusiastic puppies.

“So here I am trying to find these little one’s good homes. Sure, I could sell them for more, but there are lots of people and families out there who would love to make these little ones part of their home but may not be able to pay that much.” Ellie-Mae finishes with her sales pitch to my two friends behind me.

Standing, I release myself from the hoard and make my way the few steps to the blue-eyed pittie sitting and watching me. Lifting her, she’s maybe fifteen pounds and a few months old, I nestle her on my shoulder in the standard baby burping position, and she snuggles into my neck. Her fur is short and soft like velvet.

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