Page 72 of The New Place

“Can’t I share it?”

“But it’d be your place,” Ned says. “You’d be buying it.”

“For us,” Abbot says.

Ned shakes his head, confused. “I have Peggy.”

“I know.”

“Exactly,” Ned says.

Abbot opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

Ned drives in silence. This is not how today was supposed to go. They don’t fight, ever. They don’t even disagree. Which isn’t even what this is, it doesn’t feel like. Having two different conversations, more like, and twice Ned starts to say something he hopes will untangle this mess, but both times he lapses back into quiet. He has Peggy. It’s one thing for them to live at his parents’, and another entirely for them to live at a place Abbot owns. It’d be Abbot’s place, with Peggy’s shoes everywhere, Baxter tracking dirt in, Peggy playing that damn recorder her school saw fit to send home with her.

Ned parks in his parents’ driveway, too aware of pulling up next to Abbot’s car. Abbot gets it washed so much more often than Ned manages to wash his, and even driving it through these awful streets, there’s only a smattering of salt and dirt around the wheel wells, like the body of the car repels mess naturally.

Baxter’s not at the door like he usually is, that scratch of his nails and a huffing breath at Ned’s knees. Ned walks into the house quickly, looking for him.

He finds a puddle in the corner of the kitchen. Baxter lays with his head between his paws across the room, whining softly when Ned spots him.

“Bax?” he asks.

Baxter doesn’t get up, just stays flattened to the floor, his ears held low.

Ned jogs over to him. Baxter stays crouched, rolling to expose his belly. “It’s alright, buddy,” Ned says softly. “It’s just an accident. It happens. I’ll clean up and take you out, okay?”

“Does he need more water?” Abbot picks up the bowl. It’s upside down and licked dry.

Ned had left it full that morning. Slowly, he strokes Baxter’s stomach. “He hasn’t had an accident since he was a puppy. What the hell’s wrong with him, drinking all this water and now this?”

“Does he need to go to the vet?”

“I guess so.” Which—dammit. Is another thing he’ll have to put on his credit card. But the last time Baxter peed on the floor was at that house Ned bought with Jen. Where they’d been giddy getting their keys from the Realtor, and had taken a picture together on the front stoop.

They’d done it, Ned had been sure. College degrees, masters programs, marriage, and their house and the bundle of fur and energy Baxter had been. So very simple and neat.

It sure as hell hadn’t stayed that way, now had it?

“You don’t have Claire’s number by any chance, do you?” Ned pulls out his phone to text Pat. “I have no idea when I’ll even be able to take him in.”

“I can do it. Now, even, since I know you have meetings before lunch.”

“It’s not a rush, I don’t think.” Ned looks down at Baxter. I don’t need your help, he means. He sighs. “Okay. Yeah, thanks, if she’s available.”

Great. A sick dog, a horribly uncomfortable conversation with Abbot, and having to go back to Adams this afternoon, to the gloom that’s hung over campus since the news of it closing broke. What an absolutely great day.

17

ABBOT

The address Claire gives him is in an entirely new part of the city Abbot’s never been to, but he finds it, and even better: parking. She meets him in the vet practice lobby with a pat on the head for Baxter and a smile for him.

“Right back here,” she says, motioning him past the reception desk and into an exam room. “Listen, I told Ned on the phone, I can see Baxter now on my lunch break, but I do have to charge for the lab work.”

“Ned appreciates you getting him in so quickly.”

“Ulterior motive.” Claire shuts the door behind them. “I’m going to ask you overly personal questions about Pat while I’ve got you here.”