Through the rapidly swayingwipers, I try to read the building numbers. Finally, I catch aglimpse of the Chinese restaurant with its red neon sign andflashing arrow. I park in the alleyway and put my four-ways on,leaving Stinky inside to guard the truck.
“I won’t be long, buddy. Hangtight, okay? If a parking meter guy comes, eat him.”
Around the side of the buildingare stairs leading to the second floor. The dark, dirty carpetsmells like a mixture of tobacco and pee. I try not to touch thehandrail on my way up. I find it so hard to believe Annie prefersthis to our cottage—our clean, pretty cottage near the water.
Finally, I reach the landing.There are four paint-peeled doors numbered one to four. I stand infront of number one—Dawn’s apartment. Quickly straightening my jeanjacket and wiping the rain and sweat off my forehead, I knocktwice.
Footsteps, then squeaking as theknob turns. The door opens to a woman about thirty, wearing a pinkhousecoat. Her brown hair is in a messy bun on top of her head.
“Dawn, I presume?” I say,smiling.
Her eyebrows rise. “Why do I getthe feeling that you’re not a delivery person?”
“I thought I’d deliver them inperson. Is she here?”
“She’s lying down. I’ll gether.” Dawn leaves the door open, and I peek into the apartment asshe disappears down a hallway. There are two sofas covered inblankets with a coffee table made of cinderblocks and a wood plankin front of them. I don’t mind it as much as the rest of thebuilding.
Dawn reappears. I straighten upand smile at her. “I told her that someone’s at the door for her,”she tells me. “I didn’t tell her that you called earlier.” Shegives me a wink.
“Thanks.” I hold the flowersbehind my back and wait.
About a minute later, Anniewalks out of the back room, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
I stop breathing. It’s her.
She’s tired and run down, andshe’s wearing a burgundy velour tracksuit, but she’s perfect.
Dawn is grinning and watchingfrom across the room. Annie approaches the door, still rubbing hereyes. When she sees me, she stops. Her eyes widen in shock.
“Annie, hi.” I sound strangled,and I try to unstick my throat.
She opens her beautiful mouth.Then she says, “You’ve got to be kidding me, Jade.”
I blink at her. The flowers arepoking into my back.
“What the hell are you doinghere? How did you know how to find me?”
Dawn quickly steps out of theroom.
I let out a breath. “Aren’t youhappy to see me?”
“I’m not happy if you’restalking me. Is that what you’re doing?”
“Annie, that’s crazy.” A mixtureof anger and despair washes over me. “Didn’t you miss me?”
She crosses her arms and looksat the floor then back up at me. “Things are complicated, Jade. Iwanted to call you but, but I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“Annie, how can you say that?After everything we’ve been through? I thought you knew me betterthan that.”
“It’s because I know you so wellthat I knew I couldn’t talk to you about it.”
Her words muddle my head. Whatthe hell is she talking about? “Annie, will you come for a drivewith me? I’ll bring you right back after we talk, okay? Then, ifyou want me to leave, I will. I promise.” As a last-ditch effort, Ipull the flowers from behind my back and offer them to her. Theyseem ridiculous now.
She takes the flowers and putsthem on a table, then grabs her coat and we walk out of thebuilding. Thankfully, my truck is still in the alley. As the lightsfrom the neon sign shine on my truck, I see the back of Stinky’shead as he stares out of the front window.
I walk Annie over to thepassenger side and open the door for her before running around tomy side. Stinky barks once, then looks at me as if to say, “Who’sthis bitch? I hope you don’t think she’s taking my seat?”
I grab his harness and pull himtowards me, giving Annie enough room to slide in. “Jade,” she says,“what did I miss? Whose dog is this?”
“He’s mine…or…ours. It’s a longstory.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Yeah. This is Stinky.”
“I hope to hell that he wasalready named that when you got him. I hope you didn’t give it tohim.”
“Trust me, he earned it, fairand square.”
She gives me a dirty look, thenreaches up to scratch Stinky’s ears. He huffs once, then flopsdown, his head in her lap. She smiles. She loves animals, alwayshas. There’s been so many times that she makes me stop the truck ifshe sees an animal looking hurt, cold, or lost. She should’ve beenin animal care. She would’ve done well. She still could. Somehow,though, I don’t think this is a time when I should be lecturing heron going to veterinary school.
I drive down to the passengerferry just across from Granville Island and turn off the engine. Wedon’t speak for a few minutes. The only sound is coming from thelarge drops of rain hitting the truck roof. Stinky stretches acrossAnnie’s legs, snoring softly.
“Annie,” I say, looking over ather. “I’m sorry that I just showed up, but you haven’t called meand I was worried that—”
“That I would be with someoneelse.”
“No.” I take a breath. “I wasworried that you weren’t okay. I had no idea where you went. We’resupposed to be a team, Annie, and you just took off. When I wasasleep. Why?”
She takes a deep breath and thenslowly exhales. “I didn’t want to make you feel as badly as I wasfeeling. I needed to get away from what happened, to clear my mind.You wouldn’t have let me go.”
You don’t know that, I want tosay. But even as I think the words, I realise that she’s probablyright. I clutch the steering wheel and nod. “I…might have tried toconvince you not to go.”
“You definitely would have,Jade. You would have stopped me. You already did—it took me a weekto tear myself away.”
So that whole week she’d beenworking herself up to leave. I feel a stab of pain
