Strange Heaven

Eli stared deep into the screen, and the screen stared back. He felt great: painless, rested, worry-free.
     "Your whole family is coming to graduation, right?" Greg asked, zipping up a suitcase full of shirts and socks.
     "Yup," Elijah answered, not taking his eyes off the screen. His hands pressed against his temples and came together at the top of his head, sending his blonde hair shooting out in all directions. His right hand dropped down to his computer's mouse and he rotated the 3D model a tiny bit. "Perfect."
     "Got it?" Greg asked, taking a look. "Awesome. That's your last thing right?"
     "Yup. Just have to send it to Mr. Raphael."
     "Yeah, and then we get to party! Wooooo!" Greg hoisted a phantom beer in one hand and pumped the other. "Hey guys!" He shouted down the hall. "Eli's done working! Get your drinking shoes on!" Celebratory cries reached them from the other side of the six person suite.
     "Not just yet. I have to call my parents and double-check some things," Elijah said, sending the final email to his professor.
     "Elijah Derek Sean!" Greg said, making up a middle name on the fly. "Give it a break for one night! We have two days until graduation! You can call them tomorrow! We have five glorious hours before the bars close and I say we make the most of it."
     Eli thought about it for a moment. He had been working hard, trying to put enough work into his numerous final projects to keep his grade right where it was, at cum laude level. There was plenty of time to call his parents the next day. "Okay. Let me text them and tell them I'll call tomorrow."
     "Yes! It's good to know that you aren't entirely workaholic," Greg said as he put on a jacket. "It's raining out, and we're not going to stop at just ONE bar, no! Not even TWO bars!" He said, grinning. "So get a coat on if you don't want to be soaked by the end of the night!"
     Eli sent the text and snapped shut his phone. "Sorry, what were you saying?"
     Greg's kept his previous pose for a second, then scowled. "Dick."
     Eli laughed. "Come on, let's get going. I do want to get some sleep tonight, if it's possible."
     "Yeah, yeah," Greg said, following Eli out the door where their roommates waited. "I know."



     The next day at noon Eli was staring into the mirror in the dorm's bathroom, dressed only in his boxers and his head pounding. He liked to think he hadn't drunk as much as the others, but he still got pleasantly buzzed during their trip around the New York bar scene. Another roommate, John, stumbled in behind him, doing his best Leaning Tower of Pisa impression. "Almost done in here?"
     "Yup. Sleep well?"
     "I'm not sure," John said as he closed the door behind Eli. "I don't remember most of it."
     Eli rubbed his head as he walked back to his room, glad he had no responsibilities that day, Tuesday. Graduation wasn't until the next day and his work was finished. Then a memory, appearing in his hungover brain suddenly enough to hurt a little, surfaced. He did have one responsibility.
     He got his phone out of the room where Greg was dead sleeping and sat on the couch in the main room. He called Mom. No answer. That's strange, he thought. He shrugged and tried Dad at work. Also no answer. Not as strange, but still weird. He figured it was just happenstance, and that they would call back. His little brothers were both in school so calling them wouldn't work. He scrolled through the messages on his phone absently, and re-read the last message he had received from his mom, in response to his text about calling the next day. In perfect Mrs. Sean fashion, it was simply "k." His mother had fully embraced the idea of texting as a minimalist practice.
     He got up and donned a pair of running shorts and a light t-shirt. Soon he was jogging in the warm city air, doing his best to avoid traffic and other occupants of the sidewalk. The run made his headache recede and woke him up fully. When he found his way back onto the Columbia campus, he found a friend of his nearly dancing in anticipation to being let into the building.
     "Eli!" She yelled as he got close. He stank of sweat and fumes but she didn't notice. "Can you let me in pleeeeeeease?"
     "All right, all right. Keep your shirt on," he said as he beeped open the door. "Why don't you have your card?"
     The girl, named Gaby, was short, with light blonde curls. She groaned. "I forgot it. I had to run to a professor's office to turn a thing in, and didn't realize I didn't have it until I was almost back and I REALLY need to go to the bathroom so bye!" She said, heading for her side of the building.
     "Uh... bye," Eli said as she disappeared. He began climbing the stairs. When he got back to his room he checked his phone. His parents hadn't called him back, but there was a missed call from a number he didn't recognize. Probably just one of those stupid fake loan collection calls, he thought. He tried calling his mom, again with no response. He didn't think much of it, but he tried to imagine some reason why she wouldn't answer or call back after so long. He didn't think that she had gone anywhere. She could have been working in the yard, or taking a nap. He tried his Dad again, who worked as a small-claims judge in a nearby county. Also no response. That he thought nothing of, as his Dad was much busier and didn't always have his phone on. It was still a few hours until his twin brothers got done with school.
     Sighing, Eli got in the shower to get rid of the stink he had accumulated. Ten minutes later he was dressed in khaki pants and a collared shirt. He was looking at his phone. Again there was the number that had called earlier, but this time there was a message left on the voicemail. He dialed it. Another roommate, Samuel, had started playing Xbox while Eli was in the shower, so he stepped into the main hallway of the building, which was deserted. He wandered into the lobby of the building as the automated message played asking him for his four-digit PIN. He entered it.
     He listened in silence, each word he heard felt like a slamming door pushed by the wind: no malice behind it, yet it frightened.
     Gaby came around the corner into the lobby and found him sitting on a low table, phone on the ground, face covered in his hands.

The sheets pulled back.
     And there they were, the four of them. He saw first his father, the biggest of them. The mortician had warned him that the accident had left them quite torn and mangled, but this was worse. When he saw the thing that had been his father, a judge in small-claims court, he felt something. It was sudden... pow
     The drunk taxi driver that had hit the family van with his own had directed right at his father. His arm was nearly gone. It was hanging by sinews and tendon and bandage. His beer belly, which Eli knew he would acquire one way or the other, a simple matter of genetics, had scoops missing. The balding head that his father had not fretted over but instead embraced, rubbing it like a lamp and making a wish or letting other people touch for good luck like Big Buddha's belly, or maybe having a friend breathe hot breath on it and pretend it was a mirror... that bald head had long cuts that made it look like Edward Sean had finally caved and swept gruesome red hairs into a chilling come-over.
     And his finger was broken again.
     Eli had broken that finger. One of the first times they had raked up the leaves that fell from the oak tree in the backyard and tied them up in black bags and then his father had brought out a brand new football and they... he and Eli... had tossed it back and forth, pretending to be Dave Brown or Brett Favre. And then Eli's mom had called out the window asking his father about some errand or something, and his father had turned his head with his hands outstretched, waiting to catch the throw Eli was about to make and Eli didn't notice that his head was turned and he couldn't see what was coming, and he threw it as hard as he could, a little kid like him shouldn't have been able to break a finger with a throw, but it had caught his father's middle finger at some perfect point and bent it up and in.
     His father had howled in pain and gone crashing to his knees, cradling his bent finger, yelling Judy get out here as loud as he could, and Eli had cried and said he was sorry over and over, and his mom had come running and saw the twisted wreck that his father was holding, and ran to get her keys and coat, and all the while Eli had cried and said he was sorry and kept crying.
     He felt a nudge on his arm and looked down to see the mortician holding a box of tissues. Moving on it's own, Eli's hand picked a tissue and wiped his face with it.
     "You recognize him?" The mortician asked.
     Head stiff on his neck, Eli angled his chin down and then back up; it was all he could do. The mortician nodded and slowly covered up Edward Sean.
     Next came his mother, Judy. The mortician turned back the sheet to reveal her head.
     She had prominent cheekbones, short blond hair, and a prim nose. Lying on the table she looked so thin, Eli thought. She hated to eat too much. She worked out too much. She fretted over every extra pound that the bathroom scale reported. Eli's father had always been trying to get her to give up her silly ways of watching her weight and have a thick steak, but the simple idea of eating that much made her want to vomit. She had type two diabetes, and had to have an injection every day. She was committed to her personal health, and sometimes Eli thought that she would take it too far. Had she?
     She worried about her health, she was a germaphobe and had other strange phobias, such as maskaphobia, specifically gas masks, and a crippling fear of tests, which she had her entire life. But about nearly everything else she could have been called negligent. She didn't know how to take care of cars and didn't care, she didn't know anything about technology and if it were up to her it would stay that way.
     Which it would.
     She could hardly remember the names of famous people; Brad Pitt and Matt Damon were the same person to her. She wasn't creative, couldn't work with her hands to save her life, couldn't fly planes or knit or snowshoe.
     But Eli wasn't thinking about those things. He was thinking about the times he would come home from school tired and she would be there with a loving hug and an open ear, or the time Stewie Holt beat him up in the first grade and she patched him up without a thought, or when he had a problem with an assignment for high school or college and he could talk to her about it. She wouldn't be able to solve the problem for him, but she would be there so he could talk about it to somebody, to anybody. She liked to garden.
     "Judy," Eli said. Only a moment had passed since the mortician revealed her pale face. "My mother."
     The mortician nodded and covered her again. "You'll need to tell us which is which for the twins."
     Yes, the twins. The mortician revealed them both. One of them had a big pad on his face to cover where the skin had been torn away. Eli went up to the closer of the two. His footsteps echoed even after he had stopped walking.
     "This one is William," He said, pointing to the one he was standing over. He knew because there was a colony of dimples on his forehead. That had been Eli's fault too.
     The three of them had been wrestling on the carpeted basement floor. Eli had been thirteen, the two of them had been six. They teamed up to bring him to the ground and he had gleefully held them off until they came up with the idea of each grabbing a leg and putting him off-balance. He had fallen to the floor. They had climbed up his body until they were nearly lying on him. He couldn't get the leverage to buck them off, so he got to his stomach and hefted himself off the ground, pitching his strength against their weight. The one that was on his left side, William, had thrown himself at Eli's head, and Eli had simply ducked out of the way, turning in towards the other. William went past and smacked his forehead into a corner. He had yelled until Judy appeared and rushed him to the hospital, where he had needed three stitches to close the wound.
     "So the other one is Brian?"
     "Yup." This one seemed untouched, except for the wound in his side. The mortician had told him that Brian had survived the crash for over an hour until succumbing to his injuries. He had asked for his mother, cried for her, and the doctor trying to keep him alive had said nothing.
     "Thank you. That's all we need," the mortician said. "The front desk can call you a cab if you need one." Eli shook his head; he had driven.
     He sat in the front seat of his father's old Lincoln, unable to start the engine. The interior smelled like socks, but Eli had been using the car for years and so didn't notice the smell. He was looking down at his hands, not thinking about anything. He clenched them. As if on their own accord, they relaxed and took hold of the key in the ignition.

The next day he marched across the stage in front of friends and family and classmates with a wooden smile taped to his face. He took the diploma from the Dean, shook hands with the President, and stepped off the stage as the next person was called. As soon as he was out from under the hot lights directed on the stage his face settled to the emotionless form it had fallen to since getting back to his dorm the day before. He posed in a picture with the others from his major, Graphic Design, and then left. The idea of going to the reception disgusted him.

Three hours later he was in his family's quiet house. The shades were drawn and the lights were off. It was empty and unwelcoming.
     The day before he had returned to his dorm, dazed and confused and barely remembering the drive back from the hospital. Greg had asked him, in a tone of mock outrage, where he had been, and listened in shock as Eli told. Samuel, John, and Peter found out and expressed their sympathies, stating they would do anything Eli asked them too. Eli had nodded, wondering silently if he could ask them all to leave him alone.
     Now he stood in the foyer of his home, wondering what the hell he was going to do. His possessions filled his car, waiting to be unloaded. He listened to the house, trying to figure out what to do next.
     It was silent. No radio from the kitchen as his mom made dinner, no TV from the family room as his dad watched sports, and no booms or crashes as his brothers played Gamecube in their room. The furnace was off, the washer and dryer were silent, the dishwasher wasn't running, not even the grandfather clock ticked. Eli heard nothing.
     And so he sat down and made no noise.

A week later he was in the office of his house. It was, officially, his house. As the last surviving member of the family, all the possessions went to him... including the house, two more cars, all the bills, all the mail, and all of the numerous financial accounts that Edward Sean had set up.
     Which meant that suddenly Eli had hundreds of thousands of dollars to his name. He had met with his family's lawyer and it was suggested to him that he leave most of it in a savings account. He had been fully prepared to survive on minimal funding, being a graphic design student, but now had so much money he felt almost guilty about it.
     His computer's monitor, which displayed the graphic design suite he had used at school, lit the room behind him. Normally working his craft helped to calm him and put things in perspective -- what could bother him when he could design? But now not even shapes and colors and patterns helped him. The house was still quiet and forlorn. With all the lights on it was empty and morose, with the lights off it felt like he was haunting a crypt, floating from room to room, moaning and rattling his chains.
     He had cried the first night, sleeping in his old room, in a bed that was a little bit too small for him, until his pillow case was soaked and he had been forced to get a new one. The next night he had cried, unable to fathom an alternative. The third night he had stared up at the ceiling for two hours before falling into sleep. The fourth night, after meeting with the lawyer, he had sat up in bed, shocked by the sudden windfall.
     The nights after that he had fallen asleep thinking of his family, and all that they entailed. His father's everlasting desire for beer, his mother's fears, his brothers' rambunctious squabbles, and on and on.
     Eli idly zoomed an image in and out on his screen, cheek resting on a hand. He didn't know what his next step was supposed to be. Freelance, he guessed.
     His phone buzzed, throwing blue light up the wall. He looked at it and found a text from Gaby. She asked him how he was doing. He put the phone back down and wondered how in the hell he was going to answer her. Eventually he picked the phone up again.
     "Not sure. A lots happened."
     After a few more minutes of zooming, the phone buzzed again. "Want to meet?" It read.

The next day Eli found himself sitting across from Gaby in a Starbucks, watching as she gingerly sipped her drink. She looked up at him and gave him a deep, creased smile. He smiled back despite himself.
     He had explained what had happened, telling her about the silence, and the fear, and the sudden money. She listened while nodding and stirring the liquid in her cup.
     "It's so quiet," Eli said at the end. "I feel like I'm going to go nuts. Nothing happens. I hardly have anything to do. Sometimes I just wander around the house, hoping to find things to work on."
     "Do you ever just... relax?" Gaby asked. "You know... watch TV or play video games or something?"
     "There's only so much relaxing I can do before it turns into work."
     "Don't give me that," Gaby said, waving her hand.
     "It's true. I don't have enough to do. Everything starts to feel like work. I feel best when I'm doing something productive. Like making dinner or cleaning." Eli leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. Gaby screwed up her lips and stared into her drink. "I've looked for work, a little bit. Not a lot of people want to trust a kid just out of college." She nodded. "But I don't need jobs that pay a lot. I have enough money."
     "Okay, good. That's good." Gaby played with her cup. "Is there anything else you do?"
     Eli shifted. "I do some designing just to take my mind off things. There are also a lot of things to deal with." Gaby nodded immediately. "Accounts and things. I'm thinking of selling two of the older cars we... I have." He hesitated. "The funerals." Gaby sighed and looked at him with kind eyes. "But it doesn't feel good working on those things. They only remind me over and over."
     "You need to get out and do things. Visit some friends. Have Michael and Ariel gotten married yet?"
     "No."
     "Go hang out with Michael then. He was your roommate, he'll help you."
     "He wasn't in the room very much. He and Ariel were always doing something. I think he was afraid she would forget about him."
     "Well, okay... what about a pet?"
     "What?"
     "A pet. An animal." He stared at her. "You know, something that you will not only be forced to take care of, but figuratively something that will reward you with companionship."
     He eyed her. "Animals die."
     Gaby growled. "Yes, but they're quite happy while they're alive. A lot of people find animals like dogs to be helpful therapy animals. Not... that... you need therapy. It's just they can help, is all."    
     "I don't know if I want that sort of pressure."
     "But that's what you need. You need something to work with! It doesn't have to be a dog or a cat... or-" She waved her hand vaguely. "-A komodo dragon! It could be a bird or some fish."
     "Fish don't remember anything. How could they give me companionship?"
     Gaby sighed and rubbed her face. "Okay, not a fish. Think about it, at least. At least by thinking about it you'll be getting your mind off things."
     "Yeah. I guess so."
     "Okay. Good. I got a ride here, want to get me home?" Gaby said, standing. Eli followed her out the door and later found himself sitting alone in the darkness of the garage after turning the car off. His hand rested on the ignition for a long moment, and then he climbed out.

Ten days later Eli watched his family lower into the ground. He had spoken at the funeral the day before, talking about their steps into the next world, and how much he would miss them, and his father's adopted brother Juan spoke about the sadness he felt when his last surviving family member had passed away. Later, Juan told Eli to get in touch with him if he needed anything. Eli thanked him and now thought about it as he drove home.
     His starched black suit stifled him and cut into his skin. The sky was bright and clear and Eli did not appreciate having to squint his way home from his family's funeral. Was there anything that he could ask Juan for? No, there was nothing.
     He didn't consider until later some of the more uncommon things to ask for. He didn't need money, or transportation, or help with school, but Juan's family did have two dogs.

"Come on in," the woman said after Eli knocked. The house smelled like a zoo. "Juan called ahead and said you would be stopping by. My name's Muriel. Nice to meet you." She extended a thick hand and Eli shook it, introducing himself. "I heard about what happened. I'm very sorry. And I think you're going about this the right way. It isn't good to dwell." She drew herself up. Muriel was a billowing woman that looked like she belonged in an opera. "Shall we? They're always eager to meet new people."
     She led Eli down a hallway, past framed slips of paper stating and restating her permission to furnish pets. She led him into a solarium that just barely contained the accumulated energies of over twenty puppies, big and small.
     "Do you know what you're looking for?" Muriel asked him. He shook his head.
     "I'm not even sure if I want to adopt a dog."
     "Of course. No shame in just looking. This is not a decision to take lightly."
     Eli went to the closest enclosure, which had an adult german shepard lying on its side as a litter of five puppies suckled. She regarded Eli critically and then laid her head back down. "We'll come back in a bit," Muriel said. "They need to feed."
     Eli nodded as she led him to the next space, set against a sunny window. This one had three speckled beagles playing and yapping. Muriel called them over and they came running, putting their front legs on the plastic fence of the enclosure. Muriel picked one of them up and turned toward Eli.
     "A bit older, these bunch. Pretty popular. They've had all their shots and they're good with kids."
     "I don't have any kids."
     "No, but who says you won't?" Muriel gave Eli the one she was holding, a boy. It squirmed and whined in his arms until Eli scratched him between the years. Then he gazed at Eli with rapt attention and huge brown eyes.
     Eli sighed. "I don't know. They're a little too energetic." Muriel took the puppy back and placed it down with his siblings.
     "I'll let you think about it. Ah, looks like they're done eating." She led him back to the first group, the german shepards. "These are also pretty energetic -- very strong and protective. They're good guard dogs." She picked one up and handed it to Eli. "They're a younger litter than the beagles, but they'll get bigger of course." The dog in Eli's hand started licking his face with gusto. "I think she likes you. This bunch haven't had all their shots yet so I won't be able to sell you one for a month or two. I have to warn you, they get pretty big and they eat a lot, so you'll need to have the right funding." Eli didn't say anything. "Here we are, girl."
     She put the puppy back and steered Eli to the next group, a breed he didn't recognize. "These are a strange bunch, and not a common crossbreed. The mother was a white giant german spitz, and the father was a rather casanova golden retriever." The puppies, four in all, gamboled and played in their space. "A good pedigree, though. And you aren't going to find a friendlier mix than a spitz and a golden." The four puppies milled around next to Muriel as she stepped in. Three of them were shock white, but one of them was a golden color. "I see you've noticed the odd girl out. She got the most of her father's coloring." Muriel picked the dog up. "She's a cuddly one."
     The dog was placed in Eli's hands and it immediately began to nuzzle him. It's thick fur was the color of a lightly toasted marshmallow. It had a wolfish face and a curved, stubby tail. It's tongue was hanging from its mouth in an absurdly cheerful grin.    
     "This one likes you too," Muriel said. "What do you think?"
     "I like her," Eli said. He was holding the dog like a baby, unsure if there was a better way. It was looking up at him, still smiling and panting. "Does she have a name?"
     "Not yet. I usually leave that to the owners. What do you think?"
     Eli let the dog be taken from his hands and placed back with her family. "I don't know yet. A lot has happened recently. I don't know if I'm ready for this."
     "I understand. Let me give you some info about keeping dogs, as well as some contact info. You read up about it and make sure you're ready."
     Eli walked back to his car with his hands full of papers and pamphlets. He dumped them in the passenger seat and started the engine.

With all the lights on in his parent's room, Eli felt like an intruder. He half expected one or both parents to jump out of the closet and order him back to his own room. He had changed the sheets on the olympic queen bed that they had slept on for ten years, and now he stared at it.
     It felt wrong. It wasn't his bed; it was his parent's bed. It was were they slept and napped and -- Eli shivered subconsciously -- made love. He shouldn't be the one to sleep in it. He considered throwing it out and getting a new one.
     But that was stupid. Stupid. Why waste money getting a bed when there was a perfectly functional, if second-hand, bed sitting right in front of him? He switched the lights off, stripped down, and slid in. Light from the moon filtered in through the shades on the far wall and cast ghostly auras on the carpet. Eli tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. He was on the side that his dad had taken, and found that there was a dip in the mattress there. He sidled over and looked at the ceiling. There was a thin crack winding its way from the corner to directly over his head. He remembered his dad talking about it once, hoping that it didn't damage the house.
     An hour later Eli rolled from one side to the other, trying not to interpret the shadows on the walls as anything other than reality. He had gravitated to the center of the bed, finding that he desired symmetry. He wasn't any closer to sleep.
     After another half-hour, he got out of the bed and dropped into the one in his old room. It was smaller, but as soon as his head touched the pillow he felt better. He listened to the house make its noises as his mind rummaged through the day.
     It took him a while, but he fell asleep. When he woke up he had made up his mind to give Muriel a call. In fact, it was as if his mind had decided what was best, and then told him so.

"I'm sure that Juan will be willing to provide a character reference. Just the fact that he had you come see me is nearly reference enough, but some things have to be official." Eli nodded as Muriel led him to the solarium filled with puppies. It was sunny, and the midday sun blasted in through the windows. When the two of them entered the room, the puppies began barking rapidly, all clamoring for her attention. "Are you thinking the spitz-golden that you held?"
     "Yup."
     "Wonderful. Why don't you spend some time with her while I get the papers ready." She left Eli in the solarium, and he wandered to the puppy's enclosure with his hands in his pockets. When it saw him it padded over and looked up at him, tongue lolling. He squatted down and put his hand out. She sniffed his fingers and gave them a single lick. Then she sat and watched him.
     "Are you ready for this?" Eli asked the dog. the dog didn't respond. "Am I ready for this?"
     The dog yapped, and put its paws on the wire wall, stretching its face toward Eli's. He picked her out of the enclosure and held her up to eye level. She licked him, and Eli shuddered out of shock. The dog was only a dozen pounds, but thick hair covered it already.
     Muriel entered, carrying papers. "You won't be able to take her home tonight, I'm afraid. I'll give Juan a call later on and talk to him, and you'll need to fill these out." She handed Eli a packet. "These are papers stating that you agree to treat the dog humanely, contact information, and more information about the breed. Spitzs need to be groomed more often than most other breeds, but usually don't smell very bad and don't need many baths. They'll shed twice a year, but won't drop much hair other than those times."
     Eli nodded through it all. He and the dog watched each other. "They don't need a very big area, and like every dog you're going to need to take her out for a walk. Every day is a good rule of thumb, but missing a day won't hurt much. You have a yard?" Eli nodded. "That's fine then. Go out and throw a ball around for an exercise alternative. Male spitz giants are sometimes unwelcoming to other male dogs, but of course that isn't an issue here. They sometimes have problems with unfamiliar dogs or people, so I'd recommend frequenting a dog park and letting her meet new faces... so to speak. Sound good so far?"
     Eli looked up at her. "Yup."
     "Good. Here are a list of items to have before the dog arrives." She handed him a list that included food, bowls, a dog bed, diverse toys, leashes, collars, and grooming supplies. "There's a pet store just a few blocks over. Now, common medical problems include dental issues, retinal atrophy, tracheal collapse, and luxating patellas."
     "What does that mean?"
     "It's when the kneecap starts to move around. It's more common in the smaller breeds, and while the spitz giant isn't your biggest, we're talking toy-size." Eli nodded. "Some giants also present excessive barking. It's common for some owners to have them de-barked."
     "You can do that?"
     "That's right. Breeders are trying to get that trait out of the mix, though, and I think you have a fair chance of avoiding it, since the sire's a golden. They're relatively quiet dogs, you know." Eli didn't know, but he nodded anyway. "Anything else that you want to know?"
     "No. I don't think so."
     "Do you want to spend some more time with her? We have some space behind the house. I'll put her on a leash."
     The dog was tethered, and the two of them trailed around the small yard that was being threatened by giant bushes. The dog frolicked in the grass and Eli watched her with a smile. He tossed a ball and she tried clamping her small jaws over it, with no luck. Eli laughed as she growled at it. After an hour, Eli let the puppy be taken away, and he drove to the pet store with a foolish grin on his face.
     The next day he returned and signed his name on the dotted line as Muriel talked his ear off about proper care. They shook hands and Muriel said goodbye to the dog. "What do you think you're going to call her?" She asked.
     Eli didn't know. He drove home with her secured in a carrier in the back seat. She barked and whined as he drove home, but quieted down after a while.
     He carried her into the quiet house, and at that point didn't know what he was supposed to do. Had Muriel talked about letting her loose? Would the dog know not to do her business on carpet? Muriel had let them out into the yard to squat, but perhaps a new situation would confuse the dog.
     It barked at Eli as his hand hovered over the latch. He eased it open and brought her out. There was a bit of dog food in her bowl, next to the pantry in the kitchen, and she ran to it, scarfing it down. When she finished, she looked up at Eli with an expectant expression.
     Does she want more? Eli pulled the dog away and plunked her on the dog bed he had bought. It was a padded surface surrounded with a pillowy bunker. As soon as he paws landed, she jumped out and ran back to her bowl, looking up at Eli with shock when she found it empty.
     "You'll get more food later," Eli said. He sat next to the bed and watched the dog investigate the general area with her wolfish nose. Eventually she came back over to him and, to Eli's surprise, rested on her bottom like he was sitting. They looked at each other until the dog's eyes started roving around the room, taking in the new sights.
     Eli got up and went to a bag, and the dog followed him closely. He pulled out a small green ball, and gave it a squeeze. It squeaked, and the dog's eyes latched on to it. Eli rolled it across the ground and the dog gave chase. She got her jaws around enough to lift it off the ground and walked back proudly with it protruding from her snout. When she got to Eli she dropped it at his feet and looked up, tense. Eli took it and tossed it against the far wall with the dog right behind it.
     The next time the ball returned Eli took it outside. The dog went about sniffing the trees and bushes, and decided to mark its territory on the big oak in the corner of the yard. Once it was done it went to Eli and gazed at the ball in his hand, one paw just barely off the ground. Eli threw the ball and the dog ran after it.
     An hour later the dog stood next to Eli's ankle as he stirred a pot of macaroni and cheese. The ball was clamped in her mouth and she squeezed it desperately.
     Moving, watching his feet carefully, Eli stepped to the sink to drain the noodles. As he went back to the stove, he tipped the pot too far and a few noodles fell to the floor, where the dog quickly pounced on them, the ball forgotten. In a flash they had been eaten, and the dog looked up at Eli with her tongue hanging out.
     "That's all you get," Eli said.

"I guess you're going to need a name." The dog's ears perked. It was late at night and Eli sat on his bed with the dog next to him. It was exploring the area, sniffing and even licking at the odd object. Eli went through names in his head. It was a girl dog, so they had to be girl names. The first one that he thought of, Judy, was quickly turned down. "Don't want that kind of reminder."
     The dog jumped on the bed and curled into a golden ball. Eli went through common names like Brittany or Jessica, thought of others like Mary or Isabel, and clawed at the edges of his knowledge with names like Naomi or Gladys or Nadia or Janyka. He looked at the puff of fur cuddled next to him. Was there a gem that had that color? Not really. Amber, maybe. Not a bad name but it didn't sound right. What did she look like?
     "A marshmallow," Eli said aloud. The dog peered up at him. "A piece of burnt popcorn. Toast." The dog put its head down again. "Kind of like the color of leaves. After they've fallen off the tree." Eli paused. "Autumn."
     Incredibly, the dog gave a short growl, without even lifting its head. "Maybe not."
     Sighing, Eli got off the bed and started changing. When he was ready for bed he lifted the nameless dog off and set her on the ground. By the time he had turned the light off she was already on the bed again, watching him and yawning. Again he picked her up and set her down, but again she jumped up. Grumbling, Eli tucked the dog under one arm and, after climbing the stairs to the main level, set her in the bed he had bought for her.

And when he opened his door the next morning, the dog was lying against it, looking up at him with bleary eyes. It hopped to its feet and nearly smacked into the bathroom door when he closed it. She was waiting outside when he exited. Her tail was wagging and her tongue was hanging out.
     In the kitchen, he gave her a scoop of food and got his own breakfast. Within minutes she had placed her paws on his chair. He looked at her, spoonful of cereal half-raised to his mouth. "You have too much energy."
     The dog barked, and ran off. For a second Eli considered following her, but she returned with the green ball in her mouth. He sighed. "No. Too early." The dog sat and watched Eli eat, all the while holding the ball in her mouth. When he stood, she followed him into the kitchen as he put his dishes in the dishwasher, making miniscule grunting noises as he walked.
     Eli got to working and the dog soon proved to be a distraction, pining for his attention. But he worked, looking for freelance design jobs and twiddling with a few designs he had begun.
     The work was difficult. He was tired and distracted, unable to concentrate on the screen in front of him. It wasn't the dog; eventually she settled into a ball near his feet. He couldn't get the few days after finding out about his family out of his head. The way he felt weighed on him and kept him still.
     He'd worked for longer than he'd intended, and looked up at the clock to find he had been sitting for almost four hours. It was now one in the afternoon. He looked down to find the dog sleeping on its back, but she woke up when he went into the kitchen. He ate, dazed from the passage of time. It had been a common occurrence for him to work past meals or late into the night when he was in college, but his roommates could normally be relied on to remind him of such things. As he ate, he could almost hear Greg pretending to fly a french fry into his mouth like he was a child at a high chair.
     After he was finished, he looked out the window it was a warm, clear day with gusting winds. The dog sat by his feet. "Walk?"

He snapped the dog's leash to the collar and stuffed a few plastic bags in his pocket. As soon as fresh air hit the dog's nose she was tugging him forward. She had a surprising amount of force, and Eli pulled on the leash to slow her down. She heeded and began to trot beside him.
     She would sniff at everything: flowers, signs, people, the curb, parked cars, and Eli had to stop her from going after moving cars. She did her business in a parched yard and Eli, trying not to get it near him in anyway, picked it up with the plastic bag. He tied the bag gently as the dog waited, tail swinging back and forth.
     The sun felt good to Eli. It shone from above him and warmed his skin. The wind kept him from getting too hot, but he started to sweat anyway. The dog pulled him along fast enough to get his heart pumping. Still the dog seemed to have bottomless amounts of energy.
     At one point they jogged around a corner and saw another dog-and-human pair coming toward them. Eli's dog barked and began pumping at her restraints. Eli kept her back as much as he could. The other dog was a jowly, drooly St. Bernard, whose whiplike tail started to slap back and forth when he saw Eli's dog.
     The two dogs pulled their owners together and started exchanging smells. Eli and the other owner, a balding man with a stretched-tight polo shirt, said hello.
     "Interesting breed you have," the man said. "Looks like a spitz and a..."
     "Golden retriever. That's where she gets the color," Eli supplied.
     "What's her name?"
     "I don't know yet. I've only had her for a day." Eli looked down at his dog. "I haven't come up with the right name yet.
     "A name doesn't mean much," the man said. "As long as you talk to them with a happy voice, they don't give a rip. Watch this." The man bent towards his Bernard, and a big smile spread over his face. "Hey Chong! Hey Chong!" The dog turned towards the man, every fold of skin flapping. "You big idiot! Who's my big idiot? You are! You are!" the dog pranced from foot to foot and it's tail chopped the air. Drool puddled under its big tongue. "See?" The man said, standing up straight. "They just want the right sounds." Chong barked. []
     Eli looked at his dog, who was watching him with her head tilted. "Still don't like the name Autumn?"
     The dog growled again. The man laughed. "I guess she really doesn't like it! Ah well, good luck!" He walked on.
     Eli looked down at his dog. "You be sure to tell me when I think of a name you do like." The dog seemed to ignore him and started sniffing the ground. "Come on."
     They resumed their walk with the dog out in front. Eli went through more names. Whenever he'd think of one that sounded okay, he'd say it out loud. The dog never responded, but kept pulling her leash.
     They got home and the dog made a bee-line to her water bowl, from which messy gulps soon emanated. Eli got himself a glass of water and wiped sweat from his forehead.
     He checked his email and found nothing worthwhile. A portfolio he'd created on a graphic design community site had a few more views, but he had no messages on the site. He messed around with the colors on a simple design for an hour before deciding he was going to have a nap.
     He flopped on his bed and the dog nosed his door open. All Eli saw before she jumped on him was the top of her tail peeking over the bed. Then she stood on his stomach and he got a full dose of dog breath. "Go on, get off," Eli said, pushing the dog towards the edge of the bed. Instead of climbing down, it dug itself into the space between the wall and his left arm. Eli thrust his arm under the dog and lifted it up. "No." He twisted around and dumped it off. He rolled onto his back.
     In an instant she had jumped back up and snuggled next to him, nearly pushing him off his bed. He sat up and rubbed his face. Turning and looking behind him, he found the dog already almost asleep. "You have your own bed."
     No longer tired, Eli stood and left. He went to the computer and browsed, idly clicking and scrolling. An hour later the dog appeared, slowly walking and sitting next to Eli's feet. She curled into a ball and settled down.

That night Eli heard small noises from outside his bedroom door. When he opened the door the dog darted in and jumped on his bed. Too tired to refuse, Eli pushed the dog to one side and climbed in. The dog gravitated down to the end and settled down, placing her head on his feet. He didn't have a lot of room to move and was unable to fall asleep for some time.

The next day Eli glumly sat at his computer and looked at the things on-screen. He had a browser open with his email, and his design program on the other screen. Nothing was happening. The dog, still without a name, sat by his feet. The blank screen held all possibilities, but Eli could see none of them. He cradled his head in his hands, feeling the first twinges of a headache. Outside it was raining, and the rain pattered against the window in a distracting beat.
     Soon the headache grew into a buzz, and the noise from the rain drilled into his eyes. He looked at the clock and found it to be almost noon. Groaning, he pushed himself away from the desk and stood, a bit unsteady.
     As he walked through the hall toward the kitchen, he stopped next to a family picture, taken years before. He stared at it, eventually losing sight of it for the images that ran through his head. He reached out and took it down, unable to let himself see it any longer. He put it face down on the kitchen table and got himself lunch.
     When he was done eating, the dog came out and stood by the sliding glass door, looking forlornly from Eli to the wet outdoors. She whined when Eli went over to her.
     "I can't sit at that computer anymore," Eli said. "Let's take a walk."
     The walk was a dreary, sodden affair. The dog made it her priority to jump through every puddle she could. Eli had a jacket and hood on, and still felt drenched when they had finished. He was cold and wet when they went inside; the dog dripped on the foyer floor. And yet his headache had cleared and his brain seemed to be working properly again. When he sat at the computer he found, to his surprise, a message from a small company looking for a graphic. They had looked at his portfolio and liked what they saw, and wanted him to submit sample designs based on their desires.
     "Yes!" He said, and the dog barked. He looked at her, but she just looked back with a grin on her face. He smiled and got to work. By the time dinner came around he had nearly put the finishing touches on one design and had basic ideas for two others. He ate dinner quickly and kept working.

After another night of cramped sleep, Eli submitted the designs and sat back. It was late in the afternoon, and he had stopped working only to eat and walk the dog. He went to the backyard with his dog and played catch, happy to have had something to set his mind to. The dog eagerly ran after the ball when Eli tossed it into the air, and the two wound down the afternoon together.

It took a week for the company to respond to Eli, during which he received one other request for work. This second company, a plumber, liked what he had down with pipes in a few of his samples.
     The first company sent him an email: "Mr. Sean: Thank you for the designs, but we have decided to go with a different submission. Thank you for your time and energy, and good luck."
     Eli sat back in his chair. The happiness and excitement had drained out of him as he read the words. All that work, all that hope, had been for nothing. He put his head in his hands and sighed.
     He felt worthless. He felt tired, and unable to see the reason for working on. Why should he? It would just result in rejection.
     He reached down and scratched the dog on the neck, and it made a happy sound. He had still not thought of a good name for her. After a minute he got his hand back, and rubbed his face. The plumbing company wanted his submissions in the next three days, and he was halfway done with one of them. The other two that he had in mind seemed to be weaker versions of the same idea. Growling and startling the dog, he pushed away from his desk and stood too quickly, forcing himself to lean against a wall until the blood flowed back in to his head.
     He needed to do something. He needed to get out of the house. As Eli thought these things he looked down at the dog. She had grown a little bit in the last week, but still looked to be about the same size. He could tell she had gotten bigger because she felt heavier when she stood on his stomach while he tried to sleep. They had gone on daily walks, sometimes runs, and they were brief, glorious escapes from the confines of the house.
     He took down the pictures, leaving bare walls. His parent's and brothers' clothes had been boxed away, and Eli was trying to decide where to donate them. Hundreds of small items that he'd never need, like his father's law journals or his mothers gardening tools were put away where he'd hoped he would never see them again. The place felt even emptier because of these actions, but it seemed to be the only thing Eli could do. It was that or leave the painful reminders all over the house.
     Deciding on a solution, Eli picked up the phone and texted his old roommates. A few of them responded, and Eli asked them if they'd like to get together and do something. They said yes, and Eli drove to the store to buy pizzas.
     A few hours later they showed up. Greg, Samuel, and Peter arrived and, much to Eli's surprise, so did Michael. This erstwhile roommate spent most of his time with his fiancee, and so Eli hadn't bothered to even ask him.
     "Sam called me and told me what happened," Michael said, handing a case of beer to Eli. "I figured I would do what I can to help."
     "Eli!" Greg yelled from the kitchen. "Do you have a dog?"
     "Yup. I just got her a little more than a week ago."
     "Where is it?"
     "She's in the office," Eli said, leading the way. "I didn't want her getting too excited. She's still pretty young."
     "Why'd you get a dog?" Peter asked, loosening the top of a beer.
     "I've kind of wanted one for a while, but... my mom thought they were too dirty. And then now, the house is so empty..."
     Peter waved his hand. "Say no more. What's her name?"
     "I haven't thought of a good one yet. You guys want to meet her?" He was met with a unanimous yes, and he led the way to the office. "She's a giant spitz golden retriever cross." He opened the door, and the dog rolled off her back and got to her feet.
     "What the hell!" Greg said, laughing. "I've never seen a dog that color!"
     "Yup. It's pretty strange."
     "She looks like a toasted marshmallow," Samuel said.
     "That's what I said."
     "Like lightly done toast," Greg put in.
     "Like old leaves in autumn," Michael said without looking up from his phone. The dog growled, and the four roommates jumped. Peter slopped beer on himself. Greg laughed again, and the dog's face turned into a wide, panting grin. She trotted up to Greg and he bent down to scratch her.
     "She's pretty friendly, and I'm supposed to let her meet a lot of new people. The woman I got her from said spitzs tend to be nervous around new people or dogs."
     "If she is, she doesn't know how to show it!" Greg said. His hand had moved down to the dog's chin, and her tail was chopping the air. "Why haven't you thought of a name?"
     "I don't know. I just can't think of anything that works." Eli went back into the kitchen, and the others followed him. "I'm not very desperate at this point. I'll think of something." He opened the oven and looked at the pizza inside.
     They got to talking about other things: Michael's impending wedding, Greg's job at an accounting firm, and Peter's desire to get a master's degree. They told jokes, played Sam's Xbox, ate pizza, and watched a movie. Eli got pleasantly buzzed on the beer provided to him, and laughed as his dog jumped and caught small dots of pizza crust thrown by the five of them.
     Then they were gone, and the house was quiet once more.
     The beer wore off bit by bit, and the cooked pizza smell started to become burnt, almost rancid. The dog snored on her back with crumbs around her mouth.
     Eli threw the empties in the recycle and the trash in the bin. The house returned to its pre-guest state. It was almost midnight at that time. He wanted to vacuum the floor. He just didn't want to go to bed.

The next morning he woke up at ten. He had laid in bed for over an hour, tossing and turning until he simply became too tired to function. The dog had snored at the foot of his bed with animal oblivion. Now it walked behind him as he went into the office.
     Any lingering happiness that had come from the night before was long gone. The clock on the desk ticked with a deep, thrumming click, one that bounced around the room. He felt hot and tired.
     "I can't go through another night like that," he said out loud. He started working on his designs until noon, and after lunch he and the dog got ready for their walk.
     It looked like it was trying to rain, but the air was dry and crisp. Eli directed the dog down a different path than the one they usually took, and she stopped frequently to enjoy the new smells. After fifteen minutes of walking Eli went up to a corner gas station and opened the door.
     "Hey! No dogs!" The man behind the gas station yelled. Eli cursed, backed out, and tied the dog to the bike rack just outside.
     "Stay," he ordered, and the dog plopped down. He made sure the leash was tied securely and then went in.
     He wandered through the aisles until he found what he was looking for. He dropped it into his basket and then went about grabbing a few other things. Doritos, soda, beer: basic amenities. He also picked up toothpaste and toilet paper, and waited patiently as the man that yelled at him bagged it up.
     When he pushed the door open he found a small girl squatting, with her arms wrapped around her knees, a foot from the end of his dog's leash. She and the dog watched each other without blinking. Eli looked around for possible parents, and found one gassing a big van fifteen feet away, watching her daughter just as closely as the daughter watched his dog.
     "Is this your dog?" The girl asked Eli, without turning her head. Before he could respond, she continued. "What's his name?"
     "It's a her. She doesn't have a name yet," Eli said. He untied the dog from the bike rack and she stood, shaking her fur.
     "Can I pet her?" The daughter asked. Eli looked over his shoulder at the mother, who stood with one hand on the gas pump and the other hand on her hip.
     "I suppose you can. Let her smell your hand first." The girl held her hand out to the dog and the dog sniffed. Then the girl smoothed her hand down the dog's back a few times. The dog's tail wagged.
     "Cassie!" The mother yelled. "Let's go!" The girl stood, waved goodbye to Eli and the dog, and ran back to her mother. The mother acted in a way he immediately recognized: don't you touch anything with hands that could have germs on them. It was something that Eli had heard many times from his mother. She wouldn't let him touch anything but his pants until he got home and washed his hands, or scrubbed viciously at them with a bottle of foul sanitizer that she kept with her at all times. He knelt next to the dog as the van drove off.
     "Don't worry. You aren't dirty," he said to the dog. She continued looking at him with a blank smile. "Come on."
     They went back home, and halfway there it started drizzling. It was a refreshing mist, so when they got back home Eli unpacked his purchases -- setting aside the special one -- and got to work with a clearer head and the barest smile.

By the time he finished working, the smile was gone. The mother at the gas station reminded him of his own. He kept seeing her face. He kept hearing her make him wash his hands. When he was done working, putting the finishing touches on the second design of three, he went to the sink in the kitchen and scrubbed until his hands hurt from the friction and hot water. The clouds had gone, and the sun was being dragged down. The shadows grew. Eli stood, leaning against the edge of the sink. He looked out the window and saw the yard that he had raked over and over, or mowed. He saw the very spot where he had stood as he threw the football that would break his father's finger. He saw it broken again, in the morgue.
     He shook his head and pushed off from the counter. The dog walked after him closely. He cooked a pan of frozen lasagna, ate two portions, and stuck the rest of it in the fridge. After dinner he went into the den and watched TV with the dog at his feet. The pictures on the screen went past; he hardly knew what he watched.
     It was time for bed. He suddenly felt nervous. He got ready: stripped down to his boxers, brushed his teeth, and locked the house down. Then he went back upstairs with the dog at his heels. He took out the bottle of sleeping pills out of its box, and opened the seal.
     The dog whined as he looked at the small bottle. He hadn't ever needed sleeping pills before, and he decided they couldn't hurt. They weren't really pills. More of sleep aids. He took one and swallowed it with a glass of water. The brief period of sensation telling him he was going to choke passed in an instant, and then he went back to his room.
     Sleep came easier that night. His muscles felt more relaxed, and he woke up refreshed the next morning.

The third design was finished and sent; Eli leaned back in his chair. It had been a good day so far, but he had put off walking the dog because he wanted to get the design done. Now it was later than normal, about two in the afternoon, and the dog sat on her haunches next to him. He stood and went into the foyer. The dog vibrated with happiness as he clipped the leash to her collar.
     Again they went in a different direction than normal. Eli had found a nearby dog park, and decided to take her there. She would stay on the leash, he'd decided. Not only was he not sure what she would do if released, but he didn't even have a way of calling her back. If he yelled "dog" he'd probably get a hundred of them all around him.
     The sun shined, and fluffy clouds drifted west. There was no wind but it was cool enough. They stepped into the dog park and Eli gave the dog more leash to use. He expected her to go about doing her dog thing, sniffing trees or grass or barking at butterflies.
     Instead the dog pulled Eli over toward a group of people that were standing and talking as their dogs played around them. To Eli they looked like parents at a playground, chatting as their children played on the monkey bars. Every few moments they would shoot their dogs a look to make sure they knew where they were. And then he was upon them.
     His dog saw another Spitz, this one smaller. It was fully black, and had longer hair and a similarly wolfish face. The two dogs sniffed at each other, and Eli watched nervously. One of the people from the group was coming over to him. It was a woman about his age of Asian descent. She had long black hair and a pretty face. She wore a white knee-length skirt and a yellow pullover.
     "Hi! You must be new he... I've never seen that color on a Spitz before!"
     "She's part Golden Retriever," Eli explained. "And I am new here. I only got her a week and a half ago." He knew what she would ask next.
     "What's her name?" The girl kneeled down and put out her hand for his dog to sniff.
     "I don't know yet. I haven't thought of any good ones."
     "Really." She stood. "My name's Tennin. Tennin Sato."
     "Elijah Sean." They shook hands. "It's our first time. I thought she might want to meet some other dogs."
     "Yeah. Spitzs need that early on. How old is she? Enjeru here is three. You must have a Spitz Giant."
     "Yup. She's only a few months. What kind do you have?"
     "A miniature. He's never going to get as big as yours, no matter how old he gets." She smiled. He nodded. She started nodding too. They stayed that way for a few seconds, in which Eli felt mute embarrassment flowing in his veins.
     Finally: "Why don't you meet some of the other regulars here?" Tennin said, pointing at the group she had detached from. Several of them looked over with curious faces. Eli was introduced to several people, and struggled to keep their names with their faces. They chatted around him as his dog rolled in the grass at his feet. A few of them picked up a conversation with him, commenting on the dog's color. They pet her, and her curled tail swished back and forth. Eventually the group began to break apart, and Eli said good night and left. He felt grimy and tired when he got back, and took a shower as the dog emptied her water dish. He ate more lasagna and spent the evening playing games online before taking another sleeping pill and drifting off with the dog at his feet.

Three days passed. Eli was watching a movie on TV during the evening when he got a frantic phone call from Michael. One of the groomsmen in his wedding had dropped out a month before the wedding, for some reason that Michael was not at liberty to divulge. He said that Ariel was demanding an equal number of groomsmen and bridesmaids. He begged Eli to stand for him, and Eli agreed.
     "Oh thank God. You'll need to get fitted for a suit. We have black coats and pants and dark green ties, white shirts and black shoes," Michael said breathlessly. "You'll be first down the aisle with Ariel's cousin, but you'll be farthest from the altar." Eli heard papers being shuffled frantically. "Do you know where the church is?"
     "Hold on. I have your invitation here somewhere." Eli went to his computer and rummaged through the papers there. "About twenty miles south of Albany?"
     "That's right, in Catskill," Michael said. His voice had a familiar, frantic quality in it, one that Eli recognized from their first year of college, during which Michael crushed hard on Ariel. Eli grinned to himself. "Ariel's grandparents live there. They're both getting up there in age so they wanted her to get married close. I'm really sorry to drop this on you so close to the wedding--" It was a month away "--but when Dan backed out I didn't know who else to call."
     "It's fine. Don't worry about it," Eli said. "I was going anyway."
     "Okay, okay. Thanks again. I need to call Ariel. Thanks." Michael hung up, and Eli was left with his cell phone in his hand at his computer.
     "Should I get fitted for a new suit or use an old one?" Eli asked out loud. The dog, standing next to him and panting, didn't answer. The last time Eli had worn his black suit was at his family's funeral. He decided to get a new one.
     After a restful night of sleep and a morning looking for design work, Eli went to a shop and got fitted. He had lost muscle weight since leaving college; he used to work out regularly. He'd gained some weight in fat, and resolved to take longer walks now that the dog was getting bigger.
     And she had. There was nothing strange about her growth Eli knew, but it seemed every day she weighed a little more when she stood on his stomach in the morning. He had still been unable to get her to sleep on her own bed, though she had dragged it into the office to nap while Eli worked at his computer.
     "It's like you have separation anxiety," Eli said to her that night with his mouth full. The dog lunged at a mite of food that flew from his mouth. "I guess I can live with that," he said to himself. He looked down at her again. She stood at attention waiting for more scraps. "What to call you?"
     He hadn't thought about it very much. It was becoming more and more printed into his mind that she was just Dog and wouldn't ever need a name. "That won't do. There has to be something I can call you. Mary-Ann. Jasmine. Princess Guggenheim?" The dog decided not to deign the last option with a response. "Why don't you write down what you want to be called, and I'll just call you that."
     She ran off. Eli watched in disbelief. Then she returned with the fuzzy green ball he had thrown to her countless times, and dropped it by his chair.
     Eli cleaned up dinner and they went into the backyard. The trees rustled with a slight wind and the sun lit them up with orange evening rays. He spent his time throwing the ball to the dog and thinking of names. Every time he thought of one that he liked, he would say it out loud. The dog never responded to him, she just kept chasing down the ball and bringing it back to him.

"Elijah Sean?" The woman called. Eli stood and walked after her, into the doctor's office. He was left by himself for a few minutes, and then doctor Dara entered.
     "Elijah, good to see you. Here for a checkup? Or something in specific?"
     "It's... I can't sleep." A week had passed. The pills Eli had bought were gone. He tried falling asleep on his own but it left him lying awake at one or two in the morning with the dog snoring at the foot of his bed. "I got some relaxants. They helped for a while, but I tried going without them and couldn't fall asleep for a long time." Through all of this the doctor nodded. "I don't know if it's something I can fix on my own or not."
     "How long has this been going on?" Dara asked.
     "It's getting close to a month now."
     "Any big changes in your life at about that time?"
     Eli didn't know how to respond. He hesitated for a few seconds. "The rest of my family was killed in a car crash the day before I graduated from college."
     The doctor didn't hesitate. "I'm sorry Eli. That will certainly mess things up. Is there anything else?"
     "I got a dog," Eli said. "To help. It's probably done more good than bad, though. It gives me something else to focus on."
     "Right. You aren't overworked?"
     Eli almost laughed. "I'm looking for graphic design work and designing when I find some. The closest thing I have to a steady job is walking the dog every day."
     The doctor nodded and listened. When Eli finished he spoke. "Well, sleeping pills may help, but it's always better to go without them. I'll tell you what I can do. I can write a prescription for you, but it will only be valid at the pharmacy here, and there will be a note attached to it saying it isn't valid until a week from now. I want you to try and sleep on your own for a week. Don't drink caffeine less than four hours before you go to sleep, try to get as comfortable as you can while sleeping. Does your dog sleep on the bed with you?"
     "Yup. I barely have a say in the matter."
     "Don't let it. Stick it outside if you have to. I'm sure you know plenty of ways you're supposed to fall asleep. Anything else?"
     There wasn't. Eli thanked the doctor and left, clutching the prescription. He drove home, and that night was unable to do anything but think to himself as the dog made noises outside his bedroom door.

Two weeks later Eli went up to a neighbor's house and knocked on the door.
     The plumbing company had responded to him, saying that they were going with someone else's design. The email said it was better by a slim margin. Eli read the email twice and felt like crying. More time wasted, more hours burned doing something that got him nowhere. He had flown to the bank site and checked the amount of money he had remaining, and calmed down when he found it remaining far above five hundred thousand dollars. He read the email again. A slim margin, it said. He just needed to try harder.
     He'd had no luck coming up with a name for the dog. She seemed to defy branding. He thought of old names, mythological names, Italian names, German names, Scottish names, Irish names, and more and more. Nothing stuck. The fact might complicate things, but he figured it would be all right.
     The week without pills went by slowly, and every night Eli dreaded getting into bed. All night he would think about his family and their absence, toss and turn until he thought he was going to drill into his mattress. When the week was up, he went to the pharmacy attached to the doctor's office, and went home with a bottle of pills.
     He didn't know if he wanted to keep taking them. He'd certainly not been sleeping well, especially since the plumbing company got back to him. He thought about what his mother would say. Those pills will mess with your head. She'd even been disgusted at Eli's father for taking vicodin after his finger broke. She said that it wasn't right for humans to have pills like that. Eli had shaken his head and taken a pill, as some post-mortem act of defiance.
     In the present, a man about ten years older than him came to the door. His wife, holding a child, looked down the hall at them.
     "Hi Malik. Do you like dogs at all?"
     Malik, an Arabian man that had moved in while Eli was in high school, shrugged. "Who doesn't?"
     "I'm going to a wedding in a week. I'm standing in it so I'll need to stay for a few nights. It's a little south of Albany. Would you mind feeding and taking my dog for a walk on the days I'm gone? I'll pay you."
     "Of course. I'd be glad to. What's his name?"
     "It's a her, and she doesn't have a name yet. I'm having trouble thinking of a good one. I've only had her about a month."
     Malik nodded and drifted a bit closer. "Listen, Eli, we know what happened with... you know." Eli nodded. "If there's anything you need, you tell us. You're welcome here anytime. How have you been?"
     "Well... better," Eli lied. "The first few days were difficult." Eli looked back at the house. "The dog helped."
     "They're God's creatures, surely," Malik said, nodding. "Don't worry about paying me. Call it a favor."
     A rush of gratitude hit Eli. He swallowed. "Thanks. I'll stop by again when I'm about to head out."
     As Eli crossed the street he wondered about the feeling he'd had. He wasn't poor; he could certainly afford to give Malik, who was raising two children, ten bucks a day to walk a dog. He felt blessed by Malik's goodness.

Eli drove to the wedding on Friday, two days before. He'd given Malik a key and instructions and introduced him to the still-nameless dog. She'd played in the yard a bit with his children, and then Eli brought her back to his house.
     He drove north, singing along to the radio at times, until he reached Catskill. It was a small town, just over ten thousand in population, and fairly quiet as far as Eli could see. Eli found the church the wedding was going to be held in, and then found a hotel. He'd need to be at the church at one in the afternoon the next day for the rehearsal.
     He was unpacking when he found that the sleeping pills were still at home. He had forgotten them. He sat on the edge of his bed and wondered if he could get anything to help him sleep in Catskill. Then he shook his head and figured he could go one night -- or two nights -- without them.
     And yet when he got into his bed, the strange smells, sounds, sights, and all other kinds of surroundings disturbed his mind and kept him from falling asleep. To his surprise he found he missed the weight of the dog on his bed, and wondered how she was doing without him. Was she destroying the house? He shouldn't have left her alone. What if Malik let her out without putting the leash on her and she ran off? Would Eli return home to an apologetic neighbor and an empty house?
     Thinking these kinds of thoughts, the night wrapped around Eli. His head hurt.

"You look a bit smashed there, buddy," Greg said. He was acting as an usher in the wedding, and Eli looked at him with a drooping face and sagging eyes. "Late night partying?"
     Eli shook his head and it nearly made him dizzy. "I haven't been able to fall asleep lately. I have a prescription for sleeping pills but I left them at home." He rubbed his face. "Sleeping in a hotel didn't help."
     "I guess not. Here comes Michael. Try not to look like you could mess things up."
     Normally a standard level of nervous, Michael had gone into overdrive during the preparations for the wedding. "Eli! You have everything for the wedding? Suit? Shirt? Tie?" Eli nodded. "Okay, good. Eli, why don't you help Ariel's sister with the decorations, Greg I need you to count out the servings in the fridges in the kitchen. The church is letting us use them until tomorrow and we need to make sure there are enough."
     Greg frowned. "Are you serious? Why don't the caterers do that?"
     "One of them burned himself earlier or something and had a major freakout." Michael bustled away before Greg could continue arguing.
     Greg shot Eli a look, grumbled something about counting meals, and stalked off.
     The rehearsal went smoothly, with nothing more than minor timing mishaps with the sound system and the procession. Eli managed to go at the right time and at about the right speed, though Ariel's cousin, a girl five years his younger, helped him out. Eli dreaded the fact that people thought he was sick or drunk, and tried his hardest to work well. The day progressed, and Eli found himself at the rehearsal dinner with the rest of the wedding party. He felt better. The dinner, wheat noodles in the richest sauce Eli had ever seen, smelled, or tasted, was being served and people introduced themselves. The parents of the bride, Michael's father, aunts and uncles involved in the wedding, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, and so on. Eli introduced himself as a last minute addition, and one of Michael's oft-neglected roommates. He got a laugh, the biggest of which was from Ariel. After the introductions finished, they began eating.
     The food was good, and it banished any remaining traces of Eli's exhaustion. Now he was simply tired. Michael's friends wanted to take him out drinking but he denied, saying he didn't want to mess up his vows. He took an early night, as soon as he could, and Eli went out with several others.
     He was afraid of going to bed. He thought that maybe if he stayed up later he would be able to fall asleep, that if he had enough to drink he would stagger into his hotel room and fall asleep as soon as he touched his bed. But he knew that Michael wouldn't like that, especially if he was supposed to walk in the morning, so he had a few beers and got dropped off by Michael's best man, his older brother Zac.
     It was torture. He felt the alcohol inside him, sloshing and deadening his senses, but he was still awake. Noises came from nowhere and pounded at his ears. He was too hot.
     His father had been too hot frequently. Eli had the suspicion that it was because of the fat that accumulated around his belly, the same belly that would eventually grow on Eli, if he kept drinking beer and lying stagnant. His parents tried many things to help him sleep more comfortably, but it went down to wearing little or nothing in bed and leaving the windows open wide, or the air conditioner on at full blast.
     Eli saw his father's face. A face that so many times meted punishment down on the guilty from his small claims court, and one that did not hesitate to punish any of his sons. But there was love, and mercy, too. Edward Sean knew what to say, and he knew what to do. He was smart and strong. Eli missed him. He wished he had been able to see him one last time, because the only thing he could remember of his father was the way his finger was broken on the table in the morgue, and the way his big belly had bloody chunks missing.

He slept maybe three hours. The clock drilled a bright red reminder of his wakefulness, so he tried not to look at it. Breakfast was nothing more than a memory of toast and orange juice. He wasn't drunk, but he wished he could have a drink. Coffee helped a little, but he swallowed it too fast and burned his tongue.
     He wanted a pill. He wanted to take a sleeping pill and fall right asleep, like the wonderful days before leaving for the wedding. It had been a mistake to come here, he knew. In his exhaustion he would commit some fool error, some terrible mistake.
     After checking out of the hotel he ate lunch at a Burger King and the fish sandwich almost made him sick. He could smell it too well.
     The wedding was at three in the afternoon, and he reported to the church by with time to spare. He sat in a hard wooden pew as other people arrived. A few people looked at him with expressions he didn't like. Did they again think he was drunk? Did anybody recognize two nearly-sleepless nights in a row? Did anybody know he had eaten a fish sandwich for lunch, and feel for him? Eventually he got up to see if he could help. He was given a boutonniere and stared in fear at the sharp pin before asking one of the bridesmaids to help him with it. She said she would and mutely went to work. Eli stood stock still. He thanked her when she was done, and she said "you're welcome" with a tone that said spruce yourself up, buddy.
     There was a tray of coffee for the people in the wedding and Eli had a cup. It was burned and nearly tasteless, and his tongue still hurt from that morning, but at least it was hot. He went to the bathroom and carefully scrubbed his face with water. He came out looking and feeling better, though still not his best by a long shot.
     The wedding was an hour away. Eli stood where he could and helped where he could with decorations. At one point Zac came over to him.
     "Eli, Michael's worried about--"
     "I'm fine," Eli cut him off. "Just tired."
     Zac shook his head. "Well, okay, that's good, but not what I was talking to you about. Ariel's grandparents are going to show up soon to meet everybody, and he wanted to ask you to help them out of the car. They're both kind of old, and Ariel's grandmother has had hip surgery twice. And she's blind."
     "Oh. Yeah. I can do that." Zac looked at Eli for a moment before turning away. Five minutes later an old gray Cadillac pulled up to the church and Eli went down to it. He opened the passenger door and helped a miniscule, decrepit woman from the seat.
     "Bath? Is that you?" Ariel's grandmother asked.
     "No ma'am. My name's Eli. I'm one of Michael's groomsmen," Eli said as the car drove into the parking lot. "Michael asked me to help you into the church."
     "Oh! Well, it's nice to meet you!" The woman's grip was firm but he steps were slow and low. Eli decided that taking her up the ramp would be the better decision. "My name's Muriel. It seems you're taking me toward the ramp. That's fine. My hips've been giving me a bit of trouble this morning. I don't mind going it slow. How do you know Michael?"
     Muriel. "We were roommates for four years. Before he even started dating your granddaughter."
     "She took him away, eh?" Muriel nodded. "That's what happens." She laughed, a low laugh that was growly and fatigued from life-long use. "You'll see him still, I know you will. My husband, driving the car, spent his Fridays with his mates at the pub. He'd always come home on time though. I could always trust him to -- what was that?"
     A sob had escaped Eli. Muriel's talk made him think about his father again. As a judge he would work late, but he was never so late that he couldn't give Eli a big hug before bed. Sometimes he was tired, and sometimes he was mad, but Eli waited on the stairs reading a book or playing Gameboy or doing his homework until he heard the garage open and the car slide in. Then, as his father entered, Eli would hug him as tight as he could and tell him about his day.
     "It was me, Muriel," Eli said. "I almost sneezed. I know someone else named Muriel. She sold me my dog."
     Muriel grunted. "Had him long?"
     "It's a her. Actually I've only had her about a month." They had reached the top of the ramp, and Eli pushed open the door to the church vestibule. "Here we are. Let me get the other door."
     She followed him into the sanctuary, and suddenly Ariel was there, dressed in most of her gown. "Nani!" She squealed, hugging the old woman gently.
     "Ariel, dear. I wish I could see you. I bet you almost look lovelier than I did on my wedding day." She waited a beat, then burst out laughing. "How are you? Smiling as always, I bet. Oh, I bet you're radiant right now too."
     "Mm-hm!" Ariel said. "Thank you Eli. Do you think you could take her down to the front row? I need to finish getting ready."
     Eli nodded and Ariel ran off. He took Muriel's arm in his again and started to lead her down the aisle. They started running into people who knew Muriel, and they greeted her with the same happiness that Ariel had. Eventually Eli brought her to the front row and let her fall gently into the seat. Her husband had joined them, and sat next to her.
     "Thank you Eli. It was nice talking with you. I bet you're ready for the wedding to be done so you can go back to your dog, right?"
     His dog, shaggy golden coat and pointed nose, appeared just for a moment in his head. Then his bed and a pill in hand replaced it.
     "Yes ma'am, I am." He walked back to the lobby. More guests were arriving and being escorted down the aisle by Greg and the other ushers. Eli went to the side room where the other members of the wedding party stood. They stood and waited there while the ushers and got everyone seated, and then the processional started.
     Eli was first out the door, with Ariel's cousin on his arm. They made it to the front of the church without any mistakes. Slowly the other groups joined them, and eventually Michael came down the aisle on his own, his mother years dead. Then the music changed to the traditional wedding march and Ariel appeared with her father.
     She was beautiful, Eli could see that. Her dress was long and white with silver pills that shimmered as she slowly walked the aisle. She had a white veil over her, but Eli could see she was smiling. It looked like she couldn't stop. Eli smiled for her, and for her joy.
     Then she was past, and the spell ended. Eli watched the pastor speak about love, and marriage. He was a bony, thin, tall man, and he spoke at length.
     The last time Eli had been in a church it had been to wish his family farewell. There he had lost family; here Michael and Ariel gained.
      Eli felt very hot; his suit stifled. He was still tired. He hoped and prayed that he wouldn't pass out.
     The pastor talked about the groom's mother, so dearly departed. He talked about his father, here to witness his son's bonding with a godly woman. He then went to the bride's family. The parents, able to see their daughter at her most beautiful. Her grandmother, a staunch member of this church, able to witness if not see her granddaughter be wed in the same church she was. Muriel was crying to herself in the first pew.
     Eli stood stoic through it all, unable to heed the images he brought up. His father would never see him married. His brothers would never be able to act as groomsmen. His mother would never see him with his wife, most beautiful.
     Eli felt drained and weak by the time the couple said their vows. Eli barely heard them. They were words just over the waters of his mind. He thought of his family. He clapped when everyone else did, he at least could do that, and, once everyone else left the sanctuary, he and Ariel's cousin walked out, arms linked. She pressed close to him for some reason.
     After greetings, and congratulations, the guests left for the reception in a connected building. The reception was loud and boisterous. There was good, hot food, and Eli gladly ate it while talking to Samuel on his right. There was no one to his left, as they sat at the long head table, looking out toward the eating guests. He drank champagne along with the toasts, and laughed at the embarrassing stories told about the happy couple. After eating, the tables were moved and the dance floor opened. Eli watched the father-daughter dance with an impassive face as his thoughts roiled. More and more people joined the dance as the songs changed, and Eli harbored thoughts of only watching. But then one of the bridesmaids, another one of Ariel's cousins, asked him if he wanted to dance, and he gave in.
     An hour passed and the day grew late. The older guests had all gone home, and the families were leaving. All that remained when the couple left for their honeymoon was the young crowd. By the time the hall emptied it was eight in the evening. Eli helped tear down the decorations until nine, said goodbye to everyone, and burned rubber for home.
     It started raining as he drove. He flew down 97 in the left lane. It took him a few hours to get home, and they ticked by. His energy dropped. It was after midnight when he finally pulled into his garage. The rain came down like he was in a drum. He hauled his suitcase into the foyer of his house and was greeted by a ball of hyper fur.
     "Hey you," Eli said as the dog got to its hind legs and pressed its front feet against his leg. "Miss me?" It seemed she did. He threw his suitcase into his room and started getting ready for bed. The dog sniffed his clothes as he undressed, and she followed him into the kitchen.
     Eli dumped a pill into his hand. He was so tired. His mind raced with the after-effects of the wedding. The drink. The heat. The motion. Talking with Ariel's grandmother. Thinking about his missing family.
     He felt alone. The dog sniffed his pant leg, but it wasn't a person; he couldn't talk to it. It couldn't respond, at least. He wished that somebody knew what he went through. He wished that he knew what he went through. He wanted to sleep.
     He shook out another pill and swallowed them both.

He woke at almost eleven in the morning. The pills had done their work; he had slept without waking. His mind felt clear and cool for the first time in almost two days. He set to work on a few new designs, and solicited for work. After lunch he went out with the dog and had a nice run.
     When night fell he went next door to talk to Malik.
     "She was right little darling," Malik said. "She got along great with the kids -- except when Parisa shook a rattle, she didn't like that at all, but she didn't cause any trouble. We had nice long walks. It was good to get some exercise. How was the wedding?"
     "It was good," Eli said. "I was a bit tired during it. I left my sleeping pills at home, and sleeping in a hotel didn't help that at all. But it was fine."
     "Good, good. Say, Lailah and I would like to have you over for dinner sometime. It's a rather hectic week for me at work right now, but how about next weekend?" Malik asked. "We'll serve some authentic Indian food. Good for what ails you."
     "Well... okay," Eli said. "That'll be nice. Thank you."
     "Of course. Have a good week. I'll remind you a day before," Malik said before saying goodbye and closing the door.
     Back in his own home, Eli patted the dog. "Malik thinks you're a little darling. I think that deserves a treat." Eli went to where the bag of dog snacks was stashed, in a cupboard, and found the bag ripped and empty. Slowly he turned to look at the dog, who tried not to look guilty. "I guess that puts that on hold." He sighed. "Come on, you little angel. No treat for you." The dog followed him downstairs, where they sat on the couch and watched TV. She only became interested when a dog barked at the protagonists of the show that was on.

The next day, after a chemically-induced sleep, Eli got together with Gaby again. He brought his dog with him to show her.
     "She's so cute! And her fur is such a cool color! It's like it's celestial or something!" Gaby kneeled and rubbed the dog's fur. The dog panted with a big smile on her face. They were at a wide, green park in the afternoon. The sun shined good, fresh light down on them, and the dog cooled off in the grass. Eli had done a small amount of work trying to find work, but nothing had changed since the day before. The lists he frequented remained still, so he packed the dog into the car and drove to the park. They sat on a bench next to a rustling tree.
     "How was the wedding?" Gaby asked. "I saw that you were a groomsman."
     "Yup. One of them dropped out at the last moment, so Michael asked me to cover. He was a wreck the entire time. He gets so nervous about things. One time he went to a job interview. Not only did he have a tie pre-tied, but he had a backup tie too. In case the first one didn't work." Gaby laughed.
     "The pictures that were online made you look a bit strange," Gaby said. "You looked a little out of it."
     Eli sighed. "I haven't been sleeping well. Ever since... I graduated. I got a prescription for sleeping pills a week ago, but I forgot to bring them with me. I had to stay a few nights. Because of the rehearsal wedding. I could hardly fall asleep." Eli paused. He looked between his feet at the grass. "By the time the wedding came around it looked like I had been hit by a bus. It was a bit difficult. With all the family and happiness." He felt stupid for saying so.
     "I'm sure it must have been," Gaby said. She was sitting by the dog, scratching. "But I'm also sure that Michael appreciated you being there." She looked up at him. The wind pulled back her yellow hair. "Would you rather have not gone?"
     "No. It was fun being there. Just difficult."
     "Then you did the right thing." Gaby stood and sat next to him on the bench. "Have you been able to find any work?"
     "Almost. A few companies asked me to submit designs, but they were never picked. I look every day." Eli shrugged, and took a ball out of his pocket. The dog got to her feet and focused on it. "I work on designing every day, but I'm not sure what else to do." He threw the ball, and the dog took off after it. "I don't know of any other ways to use it. I just like to design."
     "A lot of big companies employ artists and designers for manuals and things like that. It wouldn't exactly be what you do, but it would be design," Gaby said. Eli nodded as the dog spat the ball out on his pants. He threw it again.
     "I feel like if I do that I'll feel like I've sold out. Lost my artistic integrity or something like that. But it's an idea."
     "Don't you have to be an artist to have artistic integrity?" Gaby asked. Eli scowled at her and she laughed. "Maybe you're right, but you'd have something to take up your time. Heck, maybe you won't need pills once you get a job. It might tire you out."
     "That... would be nice."
     "And you can keep looking for design work that you like, too." The dog dropped the ball on Gaby, and it left drool stains on her lap. "Eugh." She flung the ball with two fingers. "Anyway, you said that you had enough money, so maybe you shouldn't worry about working for a little while. Maybe you look for design work, and if you find some you take it," she said, wiping her pants.
     "Maybe. But like I told you last time we met, I just feel like I need to work. I don't like wasting time."
     "If you don't have anything that needs doing, it isn't really wasting time," Gaby said. Eli figured she had a point. "But I know what you mean. My dad's like that too. He doesn't ever stop working. Things have to be perfect." She saw his look. "He isn't bad. I love him. He just feels the need to always be active." The dog trotted back to them, and Gaby crossed her legs.
     The dog went to Eli and spat the ball out again. He threw it, and a spinning trail of drool sprayed out in an arc. They watched the dog chase after it. After a few throws that went in silence Gaby asked Eli why he didn't have a name for the dog yet.
     "I haven't thought of a good one yet. It seems like nothing I suggest I like." Eli watched the dog track through the grass toward them with the ball in her mouth.
     "That's silly. Just give her a name. Here." She took the ball from the dog carefully, and looked it in the eye. "Your name is Lucy."
     The dog growled, and her tail stopped moving. Gaby sat back quickly. The tail started up again, and the dog's eyes latched onto the ball. Gaby threw it.
     "See what I mean?" Eli said. "It's either the name doesn't sound right to me, or the dog doesn't like it. She also doesn't like the name 'Autumn.'"
     "Shame," Gaby said. She yawned. "I should be getting back. One of my roommates is cooking dinner tonight, and I don't really want to miss it. She's training to be a chef."
     "Okay. I think I'm going to stay here a bit with the dog. She was cooped up for a few days."
     "Okay. Bye." Gaby walked to her car and drove off, leaving Eli on the bench by himself. The dog trotted up to him and dropped the soggy ball on the grass. She looked unhappily in the direction of Gaby's retreating car. Eli picked the ball up and threw it across the lawn, and after one last forlorn look, the dog took off after it. "Lucy?" Eli shook his head. There seemed to be something almost... evil about the name. He didn't know what. Sarah? Crystal? Cindy? Yelena?
     Eli sighed and leaned back against the bench. He'll come up with something. The dog came back to him and sat. Her sides heaved, and her mouth dripped with perspiration. "Ready to go home?" Eli asked. The dog kept panting. He stood and they went to the car.
     At home he felt hot and grimy, so he showered and shaved what blond fuzz had been able to grow on his cheeks and chin. He started laundry and paid bills. He decided he wanted to work on a few designs. After a few hours of that, he felt his focus slipping. He found it was almost midnight. The dog was asleep in her bed, but she woke up when he rose. She followed him to the kitchen, where he took a pill and washed it down with water, and then to the bedroom.

The next day the garage door broke. Eli didn't discover it until the afternoon, when he and the dog went on their walk. He went into the garage to grab a few plastic baggies, and when he hit the button to let himself out, the door opener ground and shrieked. The dog cowered and Eli groaned. The shrieking went on until he climbed up a ladder and disconnected it from the power.
     "I don't know how to fix this," he said. He let his head fall until it rested on the top of the ladder. "Do I call somebody?"
     After a morning that he wasted trying to find somebody willing to accept his work, whether freelance or solid employment, fixing a garage door opener was not something he wanted to spend his time on. He felt hot, almost as if he was in a crowd of people that jostled him. He went back inside and took his shoes off. The dog looked from him to the front door in confusion.
     Eli sat on the top step down to the basement and put his head in his hands.
     He had woken up during the dark, silly hours of the night to a thunderstorm, and had not been able to fall asleep for a few hours. The dog hid in fear from the booms and flashes. Eli watched the lights dance in through the barely-open shades and cursed them.
     The dog went up to Eli as he sat and hovered just behind him. She whined, just a bit, yet Eli felt it drill into his ears. He turned on the dog, and just for a moment considered shouting at it. She backed away and watched him.
     He sighed, put a hand through his hair, and stood. He took a few deep breaths, grabbed the end of the leash, and headed out the door. The jogging made him feel a little better, but when he got back the only thing he could think about was the broken garage door. He sat at his computer and considered his options. He could look through the manuals his family had kept and try to find the right one, and perhaps fix it himself. He could look online for something that could help him, whether a tutorial, or an online version of the manual. He could contact someone who would know what the hell he was doing to fix it for him.
     He sat at the computer, unable to decide or take action for several long minutes. Finally he started to search for something online that would help him. He didn't find anything specific, but he did find general information about garage door openers that looked useful. If he was lucky he could see that a part was broken, identify it, and get a replacement. He started to feel a bit better. It gave him something to do besides look for work. It would feel good to tinker with his hands; perhaps even get them dirty. He went to the garage to get his dad's old tools.
     Not very well kept, not very well organized. There were tools that Eli recognized, such as wrenches and hammers and pliers, and tools he did not. Strange contraptions with twists, or angles, or joints, or edges.
     He opened the door by hand, which was harder and more complicated than he at first thought, and backed one of the extra cars out. It was the car his mother had used to do her errands, and he remembered all the time he had spent in the backseat, being taken to and from baseball practice or guitar lessons, two hobbies that he had since dropped. He set up the ladder again and took a good look at the motor that opened the door.
     He stared at the motor for a few minutes before unscrewing the screws that held the case in place, exposing the guts of the machine. There were gears and boxes untold, and he suddenly felt even more out of his depth than before.
     With the case removed, he went to the button and, after pressing it, ran to watch the motors spin. He saw clearly that one of the gears was splintering and unable to catch. The grinding sound was the gear rubbing against a chain futilely. Well, there was no way Eli would be able to fix it without taking the whole thing apart, and at the thought of starting such a chore at this time made him weary, and it grew late.
     He repositioned his mother's old car out of the way and went inside. He still thought he should sell the old car but hadn't got around to it. Like so many other things, he barely knew how to start.
     The dog was waiting by the door when he entered, and took to her standard routine: following him around the house. Eli led her into the kitchen and started a pot of water boiling. He threw a ball for the dog in the yard with the glass door open until he heard the lid rattling. He dumped a box of noodles into the water and continued throwing the ball. After turning the heat down he waited inside, getting hungrier by the minute.
     Finally the noodles were ready. He rose to carry the pot to the sink, to strain, and took two hot pads. One of the pads was thinner than the other, and Eli squeezed his eyes shut, as if to avoid the pain, as he poured into the strainer.
     With his eyes closed he didn't notice his other hand was slipping. The pot fell from his grasp and bounced against the counter, spilling boiling water on his right knee. He cried out in pain as the dog yelped and the pot clattered to floor, empty. Eli followed it, unable to support himself on his leg.
     He hit the ground hard. "Shit! God damn it!" Hot water soaked into his clothes. He ripped off his jeans and exposed the burnt leg to air, the skin already red and puckering. Pain flashed up and down his leg and he cursed under his breath. Leaving his jeans on the kitchen floor, he hoped to the bathroom and got found a bottle of aspirin. He swallowed three, and then hobbled back into the kitchen. His jeans soaked through with the water, and steam rose from the floor like a sauna.
     He went to the sink and grabbed the washcloth. He soaked it under the cold water and then squeezed it out over his leg. The pain jumped and then fell away slowly until the washcloth was dry. The cold water ran off his leg to mix with the hot already on the floor. The dog watched him from the safety of the foyer. Eli grabbed the pot and dropped it into the sink. He rested against the counter, clenching his jaw against the pain that radiated from his leg.
     He looked down at the leg again. The skin was red and cracking, and blood seeped through the cracks. Eli couldn't tell what degree the burn was, but it certainly wasn't first. The burn wrapped around most of his knee and down the right side of his leg. It almost smelled cooked, and he turned his head away from the scent. His stomach heaved but stayed where it was. He took a step into a still-hot puddle and cursed again, loudly. Now his left foot complained as he walked into the bathroom. He threw the bottle of pills back into the cabinet and slammed the door. He heard a whine and saw the dog poking her head around the corner of the bathroom door.
     Eli sighed and let himself fall onto the toilet. He rubbed his face and looked down at the burn again. Every time he moved it felt like it was frying anew. Yet another time he didn't know what to do!
     The dog padded into the tiled room on silent feet and sat by the toilet, looking up at Eli. He looked down at her. His right leg was stretched out away from him, and his left foot was up on its toes. "What am I supposed to do?" He asked. His voice sounded strained.
     The dog did nothing but tilt her head. Eli sighed. Were the pills beginning to take effect? He couldn't tell. He wondered if he should take more. Once more, he looked at his leg. It didn't seem to be a third degree, but it hurt. He sat in the bathroom and felt his leg howl at him, until he realized he'd left the oven on.
     "Shit!" He got up too quickly and his leg screamed louder. He growled and limped into the kitchen, over the puddles of water to the oven. He switched it off, and looked around. The water had spilled down the length of the kitchen, toward the den. The dog lapped at the edge of it. Water-logged noodles floated.
     What do I deal with first? Eli asked himself. His leg answered the question without hesitation, and Eli went back to the bathroom. He found a bottle of lotion and very carefully spread it on some of the worst parts of the burn. It hurt, and tears came to Eli's eyes. He found a mostly used roll of cloth, and wrapped it in a few places. The lotion was helping, but he had used too much. It spilled over the edges of the cloth. It was a powerful smell, but one that Eli would rather smell than cooked flesh.
     He went down the stairs and got a mop and bucket. The trip up the stairs took longer and hurt more, but eventually he stood in the kitchen and pushed the water around with the sponge head of the mop. After a few minutes the floor was drier, and Eli sat on a chair to rest his leg.
     He realized, then, that he still hadn't eaten. "Not noodles," he said to himself as he opened the pantry. He took out a can of refried beans and a few tortillas and made tacos. There was a small portion of rice in the refrigerator. He ate the meal as fast as he could without burning his mouth; that would be just the thing.
     After eating he finished with the kitchen. The lotion could only do so much and his leg was constantly fighting for his attention. When he was finished with the kitchen he went to the den and turned the TV on. He sat in the center of the couch with shorts on. The pant leg was rolled up as far as it would go. The dog sat to the left of him, with her head on his uninjured leg. She looked up at him with sad eyes, and he scratched the fur around her neck. He took in deep breaths to calm himself. He was tired.
     The dog watched him watch the television, understanding that the man was in pain. The dog knew that the man was having a tough time with things in general, and that any happiness she could inject into his life would be welcome. So, the dog got up and went out the door, got one of the green balls, and went back into the den. He sat in front of the man and started rolling on the ground with it. The man took notice, and laughed as the dog was just unable to keep the ball clamped in her mouth. She kept dropping it and making it roll under things. She whined as she tried to get it out with the knowledge that she could get it out any time she wanted. The man kept laughing.
     Eventually the man took the ball from her and went outside, sitting so that his injured leg didn't move. Eli threw the ball over and over. The sun was gone and the sky was dark by the time they went in.
     Later Eli took more painkillers, and a sleeping pill. He got into bed carefully, with his injured leg exposed, and drifted to sleep.

Two days later Malik stopped by. He heard clanking and grunting from the garage, and knocked on it. Eli lifted the door by hand carefully. He had taken the motor down and was taking it apart. The nameless dog went to greet Malik with a wagging tail.
     "Hello Eli. I thought I'd remind you about dinner. Are you free tomorrow?" He saw the bandage on Eli's leg. Eli had reapplied it that morning after waking to find dried lotion all over his bed sheets. He had laboriously stripped his bed and washed the sheets before getting on to the computer. "What happened to your leg?"
     "I spilled boiling water on it last night," Eli explained. "I was trying to make dinner. I'm surprised you didn't hear me cursing. I was pretty angry about it."
     "Did you see a doctor?" Malik asked. He knew the answer already. He knew Eli.
     "No. If it was any worse than this I would have. I took care of myself." Of course you did, Malik thought.
     "I want you to promise me to see a doctor if it gets any worse. Dead skin like burns can get infected."
     "Okay." Eli lowered himself onto the garage floor. He pointed at the motor. "This broke yesterday, too."
     "I'm sorry, I don't know anything about garage doors," Malik said. "So, are you free tomorrow?"
     "Yup. At least, I should be. I don't do much anyway." Eli looked up at Malik. "Do you want me to bring anything?"
     Malik shrugged. "If you want to bring something that's fine, but everything's being provided. Lailah has a few good dishes lined up. I think you'll like them."
     Eli nodded. "Can't wait. What time?"
     "Why don't you come around about six."
     "Okay. I'll be there. Thanks."
     "My pleasure. Bring the dog, too. The kids like her," Malik said, and smiled. He scratched the dog between her ears and walked out of the garage and across the street.
     A few minutes later Eli hoisted the motor back to the ceiling and screwed it in place. He skipped to the button on the wall and pressed it. The motor whirred, and the door started to lower. A familiar screeching and grinding came from the motor when the door was a foot above the ground, and it refused to move again. "Well, damn it." Eli looked at the motor. Had he forgotten a part? There was nothing on the floor where he was sitting. Could the dog have done something with a part? No, he would have noticed.
     "I guess it's staying there for now," Eli said. The dog squeezed under the door and then squeezed right back into the garage. She seemed pleased with herself. "Good job girl, you can go through a door." Eli went inside, accidentally brushing against the doorway with part of his burn. He nearly fell over it hurt so much. He bit down on his tongue to keep from swearing and thought he tasted blood. I'm tearing myself apart, he thought as he went into the kitchen. He fed the dog, got out a cold beer and savored it as the dog ate. His shoulders hurt, but they were nothing compared to the pain from his leg. He figured he should change the bandages again, but he wanted to wait until the next morning.
     He put the shower on an ice-cold temperature and low pressure, and stood so that no water directly hit his burns. The shower stall wasn't the biggest, so it was a difficult and time-consuming activity. His burns murmured low-level pain at him as he toweled off.
     Another night, more pills. He took two painkillers and a sleeping pill with the rest of the beer. He felt drowsy immediately, and settled down on his bed.
     He didn't notice that the dog wasn't with him. She was still in the kitchen, glaring at the bottle of pills that the man had taken from every day for weeks. His hand went to it quicker and quicker, it seemed. She turned away from it and went down the stairs into the man's room, and laid down on his bed, careful to avoid the wounded leg. She enjoyed being near him.
     He smelled good. He didn't smell healthy, not to her, but he smelled good. Here was somebody that she could help, the smell told her. Every once in a while the smell would get even worse, and the dog would worry. These periods of worse smell were always right before the man took one of the pills.
     In fact, the smell was changing, day-by-day. Smelling more and more... fake. The dog didn't know why.
     The man was snoring now, as he did. The dog turned her face away from the pungent scent of the chemical he covered his leg in, and fell asleep herself.

"Be good now," Eli said, clipping the leash to the dog's collar. "Be gentle with the kids, and try not to break anything." He didn't know why he was speaking to the dog in this way; she couldn't understand him. He straightened up and adjusted his own collar. He had a yellow polo shirt and white shorts on. The burn looked a little better, but it still hurt more than enough.
     He had found what could be called a possible job this morning, and applied. He'd worked on the garage door opener with no luck, it remained stuck at the position it had been yesterday. He wasn't sure what to do next with the motor.
     They went across the street, the leash limp in Eli's hand. He rang the doorbell at Malik's house and listened to growing steps.
     Malik's older child, the girl named Parisa, opened the door. "Puppy!" She yelled, and gave the dog a hug. The dog smiled back with an open mouth, and started sniffing her leg. Malik appeared behind his daughter.
     "Come on in, we're almost ready to eat. Lailah just has a few things to pull out of the oven and we'll be ready."
     Malik gave Eli a short tour, leading him through the kitchen, living room, and family room. They spent a few minutes throwing a ball for the dog as the rest of the foods were taken out of the oven or off the stove. Malik held the smaller child in his hands as Parisa ran with the dog in the yard. There was a cool breeze, and it lightly shivered over his burned leg. Parisa stared at it every once in a while, but apparently knew that she wasn't supposed to.
     Lailah called them into the dining room, and Eli joined them at the table that was covered in unrecognizable dishes and, sometimes, colors. Lailah began introducing the food. There was khichdi, appam, vindaloo, tandoori chicken, chana masala, asparagus with spices, beer to drink, "and chhenagaja for dessert!" Lailah finished. "Please, eat!"
     "It looks great," Eli said. "I don't know what to eat first."
     "Try the tandoori chicken," Malik said. "That's what we'd call the main dish if we had to pick one. Then move on to the khichdi or the vindaloo. Don't forget the asparagus though! It has ginger and ajwain. Both spices have the interesting effect of..."
     Eli got lost in the food and talk. He hadn't had a home cooked meal of this size and quality in a long time... probably the last time he had visited home before graduating.
     After that realization, the food became smaller in his eyes. It still tasted good, and smelled good, and looked good, but it became worth less. There were so many times that he had sat down at the table in the house just across the street to a meal cooked by his mother on white segmented plates. Chicken, turkey, hamburgers, pizza, pasta, tacos, and on. This wasn't the food his mother would cook; this wasn't any food that she could even eat.
     His father would eat it in a heartbeat, though. The vindaloo was caustic in its spice, the chana masala also spicy but hearty, too. The Asparagus and its spices, the ones that had some effect that Eli had ignored, tasted fantastic and Eli had seconds. His father would have loved all of it, just as Eli loved it.
     Without becoming aware, he sank into a spiral of depression. His father would have loved it, and his brothers would have eaten it without qualm. they would have fought over the good pieces of chicken, poo-pooed the asparagus, and wolfed down the sweet chhenagaja, the dish that Lailah brought out after they had finished with the other dishes. It tasted similar to fried doughnuts to Eli, and they were covered in sweet syrup. His family would have all loved the little rolls of dough as if they were the last thing to eat in the world.
     He stopped eating. He felt sick. He was tired and his leg hurt. He wondered if he could thank them and leave this early. He'd already been there for an hour, but Eli guessed that they would have liked him to stay for a while. The dog was lying on the porch's bench, just outside the window from the kitchen. She looked asleep.
     Malik's family talked around him; it was as if he couldn't speak. There failed to be much reason to. Most of the talk was about how the baby had spilled mashed food down his front. Eli, down at the far corner from the baby and Lailah, watched as these four people lived out the family roles that they had been given: mother, father, older sister, baby. Eli yearned for his old role, the oldest brother. He would have eventually told his brothers about how to date, helped his aging parents until they grew too old to take care of themselves, perhaps moved them into a home or an apartment, taken his kids over to see them as his mother's hair turned gray and his father's scalp wrinkled, spent holidays with them, opening presents containing tools or fruitcake or cheesy sweaters, celebrated the birthdays of their growing family together, as aunts and uncles and cousins and nephews were added, and then, finally, when the time was right, send them away into the next life with this one well-lived. Not cut short by a driver who'd had too many to drink that night. Not.
     He realized that the table was quiet. Malik was looking at him. Eli had been staring at his empty plate, focused so intently on it that it was invisible, that everything was invisible. Even the baby was looking at him, just because everyone else at the table was. Eli couldn't meet their eyes.
     "Eli?" Malik said softy. "Are you all right?"
     "Is the food disagreeing with you?" Lailah asked.
     "No. It's fine." So tired. He wanted to sleep. "I... thank you. It was a wonderful meal. But I think I need to go." He started to rise.
     "Are you sure?" Lailah asked. "There's no need. Have another chhenagaja!"
     "No!" Eli shouted, and the family jumped. The baby puckered his face. "No, I'm, I'm sorry, I need to... go." He rose awkwardly, and ended up scraping his burn on the table leg. His knee buckled as pain snapped his body into a convulsion, and he smacked his hand down on the corner of the table to keep from falling. Malik rose.
     "Eli!"
     Eli stood and put his hand out. Malik stopped. Tears were in his eyes. Eli went to the porch door and let the dog in. She looked up at him knowingly. He went to the entryway and buckled the leash on her collar. Malik hovered.
     "I'm sorry if we did something to offend you," he was saying. The baby cried in the dining room. "Do you need help? Your leg is bleeding again."
     It was. Blood seeped from around the bandages where Eli had hit the table leg. He could hardly see the blood for the pain that he felt. He stood.
     He wavered, seeming about to fall. Malik stepped forward to catch him.
     He put his hand on the door and steadied himself. He looked at Malik.
     "I just... I have a lot on my mind." He looked down at the dog, and then back at the man. "Thank you for dinner."

He was out the door and across the street, nearly dragging the dog along with him. He put minimal pressure on his leg and still it cried out in fury at his stupidity. His eyes drooped and he thought he could feel his heartbeat more than he should have.
     He got inside and dropped the leash on the ground, not bothering to unhook it from the dog's collar.
     His leg hurt. He limped to the bathroom and took four pain pills. His head swam. The dog barked at him. Did she always make so much noise?
     His head hurt. His stomach hurt. He was so tired. He felt like crying.
     Why did he have to lose his family? Why did that tragedy have to land on him? Did he deserve it? The dog barked. There was so much noise. His head pounded. He couldn't see for some reason. He stumbled to the kitchen. He could almost hear his mother asking him why he had taken so many painkillers. He pushed it away. His hand hit something on the counter. Now his hand hurt and he wanted to pound the counter, but that would just hurt more.
     He found the bottle of sleeping pills, shook it, and opened it up. The dog barked. They would help him sleep; they would let him feel nothing. He tilted the bottle toward his mouth and heard sweet clattering noises as the pills tumbled towards it, ready to do their work.
     Something collided with him, in the chest, and he fell to the ground. Skittering noises came from all around him. He opened his eyes and saw, in the dim evening light of the kitchen, the dog standing by him, barking. All in a rush his hearing caught up and the barks exploded in his ears. A pill was near Eli's hand, and he reached for it.
     The dog gobbled it up before he could grab it. The dog coughed and growled. Eli looked at it in surprise. "What's wrong with you?" He shouted, standing. Pills littered the tile. He went for the closest one. The dog jumped in front of him. "Get out of my way!" He reached.
     The dog swiftly clamped her jaws on his hand and released, so the interaction added nothing more than a quick pain. Eli stumbled back, holding the hand to his chest. His foot crunched something, and he looked. There was a smashed pill. He looked around the kitchen. Pills were everywhere. I almost took these. All of these. How many were there? Twenty? Thirty? Enough to kill him, or put him in the hospital. There had been beer at Malik's house too. He had just swallowed four painkillers.
     "I almost killed myself," Eli said out loud. "I was going to." he looked at his hand, then at the dog. She stood still. "You just... saved my life."
     He sat at the table there. He couldn't look anywhere without seeing the pills. He looked at the dog. "Come here."
     The dog walked forward. She put her front paws on his knees and licked his face. "How did you know?" Eli asked. "How could you tell?"
     The dog tilted her head.
     "And you don't even have a name," Eli said. The dog got down, and Eli kicked a pill away from his feet. "How could I have been so stupid?" He got to his knees and started gathering the pills. The dog watched him. He gathered them and put them back in their bottle. He felt dizzy and weak. There were so many strange chemicals in his body he knew that if all those pills had entered him it would have been the end.
     "Good girl," he said to the dog. Her tail wagged.

The next day Eli sat on the front step of his house and threw the ball for the dog. She chased it happily. She had gotten more sleep than normal the night before, thanks to the pill she swallowed. Eli hadn't slept well, but he had slept. He made the decision to move to his parent's old bed, and that seemed to help. There was more space for him and the dog.
     Malik wandered over with his hands in his pockets. He saw Eli smiling as Eli watched the dog.
     "Sorry about yesterday," Eli said. "I made a fool of myself."
     "It's alright," Malik said.
     "I almost killed myself." Malik looked in shock at Eli. He sputtered. "I didn't mean to. I was about to swallow a dozen or more sleeping pills when she," Eli motioned at the dog, who had come to sit next to him, "stopped me. She knew, somehow."
     "Well, thank God she did!" Malik said. "You might have died!"
     "I didn't take a pill last night. I didn't sleep very well. But I think I can do without them."
     "That's good. And Eli, if you ever have thoughts like those again--"
     Eli waved him off. "I know, I know. I didn't want to kill myself. It just sort of almost happened." Eli sighed, and rubbed the dog. "But I will. I promise."
     He still hurt with the memories of his family. His leg still pained him. Those things wouldn't leave, not for some time. "It will be tough for me," he said. Malik said nothing. Eli sat and rubbed the dog for a few minutes, until Malik turned to leave.
     "Did I tell you I figured out her name?"
     Malik stopped. "No, what is it?"
     Eli smiled. "Angel."