Page 44 of The Fast Lane

I paused at the gate to the front yard and listened. Mack seemed to hit his stride when he got to the chorus and started to really “shake it off.” I couldn’t help smiling.

Mack and Grandma Grace had been a case of opposites attracting. Michael “Mack” Sullivan was the life of the party, quick to make friends, and always willing to chat with a stranger. He could charm anyone he met within minutes. So, it wasn’t a surprise he’d started as a salesman at a furniture store after he got out of the Navy and worked his way up to regional manager by the time he retired.

Grandma Grace was quiet and thoughtful, happy to be in the background, allowing Mack to have his fun, but always by his side. They went everywhere together. I’d never known a time when they were separated.

Grandma Grace had been my person. As the youngest of four, I always felt lost in the shuffle. The boys all had each other; they shared a room, friends, and a camaraderie between them I wouldn’t ever understand. While I had lots of friends, it wasn’t the same as a sister. Plus, no one ever listened to me.

When I was seven, I campaigned to get a little sister. That is until Mom sat me down and told me how babies were made. If her plan was to gross me out enough to never ask again, it worked.

But Grandma Grace always remembered me. I loved making the long drive to Amarillo because she’d be there waiting. Grandma Grace, with her faded blue eyes and soft gray hair, asked me questions about school, and what my favorite color was and my favorite food, and she listened to the answers. She’d been gone a little over a year now and I missed her. Mack missed her too, even if he pretended he was fine.

Mack was starting to fully commit to the song, belting it out without any care of pitch or correct lyrics. Theo and I caught sight of him repurposing a pair of garden shears as a microphone. His hips shimmied to the music.

He was in his “gardening” outfit which consisted of cargo shorts, socks and clogs, and…that was about it. His shirt was tossed on the grass and his shoulders and back had taken the brunt of the sun.

“He’s got some moves, doesn’t he?” Theo said.

I bumped his hip with mine. “Runs in the family.”

Mack moved on from singing to chatting up the roses.

“Now, listen here,” he said in a stern voice. “You’ll do well to listen to the neighbor while I’m gone. Don’t go getting any ideas about withering away.”

He paused, his ear tilted toward the roses.

“Well, of course, I’ll be back. I’m headed to Oregon to see my grandson get married. I have to go, there’s no way around it.”

Mack had always been a little eccentric. I’m not sure being alone helped any. There was no one around to rein him in like Grandma had done. Mom had brought up the topic of him selling the house and moving closer. But Mack was having none of it. This was the home he and Grandma had lived in for over fifty years, raised their kids there, made lots of happy memories. It was the last place Grandma Grace had been alive and I think a part of him worried leaving would mean letting go of her completely.

“Mack.” I called from across the yard.

He turned and grinned. “Ali-Cat!”

I was three steps away from him when The Thing appeared. A tiny little hairy ball of…something scampered out from behind the rose bushes and launched itself in my path. It emitted a low growl that gave off, GET AWAY. I’M SUPER-SCARY. Which might have been true if it didn’t look like it weighed more than five pounds and three of those were hair. The sandy-brown fur looked wiry and thick, and stuck out in all directions, like the thing had been electrocuted. It made the small, random patches of baldness even more noticeable. It could have been a large rat, a very small raccoon, a possible alien life-form, or a tiny dog with an attitude. It was hard to tell based on appearance alone.

Startled, I jumped back. Theo caught me and pulled me against him.

“What is that?” I straightened, but for some reason, Theo kept his hands on my hips.

“Karen, now, stop that,” Mack scolded as he bent and picked it up. “That’s my granddaughter. We like her.” The Thing yipped and proceeded to lick every inch of Mack’s face its tongue could reach.

“That cannot be a dog,” I said.

Mack frowned. “Be nice. Karen is very sensitive.”

“When did you get a dog?”

“Last month from the county shelter.” He brushed the hair off her face and that did not make things any better. Karen’s bottom teeth protruded from her mouth in an unfortunate underbite. It made her look wicked angry even without all the growling and barking.

“Does she have a lazy eye?” I asked.

“Yes. But she sees just fine, don’t you, little one.” He held her up, so they were face to face. Karen went to town, licking all the spots she hadn’t been able to reach before.

“Mack,” I said, “that is the ugliest dog I have ever seen.”

“Don’t listen to her, my sweet baby,” Mack said to the dog. “She’s just jealous of all your charm.”

I snorted. “Yeah. That’s not it.”