Chapter 404 The Happy House
Mia’s POV
“This is absolutely ridiculous,” I repeated.
But no one was listening.
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Alexander had already dropped to the floor, pressing his face against Gas’s side. He said, “You’re going to be a mom, Gas. Are you ready?”
Gas licked his face.
“She says she’s ready,” Alexander declared.
“She didn’t say anything,” I said. “She just licked your face.”
“That’s how dogs talk.”
Ethan crouched on Gas’s other side, his hand on her belly. “I can’t feel anything.”
“Of course you don’t,” I said. “If she really is pregnant–I mean, if—it’s only the first day. The puppies are just cells.”
“Cells become puppies,” Madison murmured. She was still standing by the couch, keeping her distance, but her eyes were bright. “Just like I was once a cell.”
“Yes,” I said. “Just like that.”
Kyle shifted from the wall. “You okay?” I asked him.
He nodded. But his face looked awful. That grayish–white color. Like old newspaper.
“You should go home,” I said.
“I want to stay here.”
The way he said it made arguing impossible.
I turned toward the bathroom. “Gas needs a bath,” I said. “She’s covered in mud.”
“I’ll help!” Alexander jumped up.
“Me too!” Ethan said.
“No,” I said. “You’ll just make the bathroom worse.”
“But Mama-”
“No. I’ll do it myself. You guys go play.”
Three pairs of eyes stared at me.
“Go,” I said.
They slowly dispersed. Alexander headed toward the TV. Ethan followed him. Madison remained standing by the couch, looking at Kyle, then at me.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” she asked.
My heart softened a little. This little girl. Always asking if someone needs help.
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“I’m sure,” I said gently.” But thank you for asking.”
She nodded, then sat down on the sofa next to Kyle, her small hands resting on her knees.
I walked over to Gas. “Come on, girl. Bath time.”
Gas lifted her head to look at me. Her eyes said she didn’t want to.
“Yes, now,” I said. “You’re covered in mud and who knows what else.”
She stood up, slowly, as if every joint protested. Then she followed me toward the bathroom.
The tub was small. Our entire apartment was small. But it was enough.
I turned on the faucet, adjusting the temperature. Not too hot. Not too cold. Just right. Gas didn’t like water that was too hot.
“Come in,” I told her, patting the edge of the tub.
She looked at me. Then at the tub. Then back at me.
“Don’t give me that look. You know this is inevitable.”
She sighed a dramatic dog sighs–then climbed into the tub.
The water rose over her paws, then her legs, then her belly. She stood there, wearing the expression of a martyr.
I laughed. For the first time today, I laughed genuinely.
“You’re such a drama queen,” I told her.
I picked up the showerhead and started rinsing her fur. The water turned brown, mud and grass and God knows what else washing off her.
Her fur was thick. Golden. Darkening when wet, clinging to her. I could feel the muscles beneath her skin, her ribs, her chest rising and falling as she breathed.
“You might be a mom soon,” I told her, my voice low enough that no one outside the bathroom could hear. “Are you ready?”
She didn’t answer. Just stood there, enduring the bath.
I squeezed some shampoo–dog–specific, lavender–scented–into my hands and began working it into her fur. Foam formed. White. Slipping between my fingers.
“Alexander says he wants to keep a puppy,” I continued. “If there really are puppies.”
Gas’s tail twitched gently.
“Ethan would be more practical,” I said. “He’d list the pros and cons of getting a puppy.”
)) ((
I rinsed away the lather. The water turned white again, then clear.
“Madison would love them quietly,” I said. “She wouldn’t ask for anything. Just sit in the corner, let the puppies climb onto her lap, and then she’d stroke them with that special gentle way.”
My eyes stung.
Not from the shampoo.
“And me,” I said, “I’d pretend to be angry. Pretend it was a huge hassle. Pretend I didn’t want puppies running around the house, chewing our shoes, peeing on the carpet.”
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I turned off the water. The bathroom suddenly fell silent. Only the sound of water dripping from Gas’s fur into the tub.
“But really,” I whispered, “really, I’d love them. Just like I love you. Just like I love them all.”
Gas turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were brown. Deep brown. They looked especially big amid the wet fur.
“I know,” I told her. “I know.”
I picked up the towel–big, old, reserved specifically for bathing; Gas–and started drying her off. Her fur soaked up a lot of water. The towel quickly became saturated, and I had to switch to another one.
There was a knock at the door.
“Mia?” It was my mother’s voice. “Lunch is ready.”
“Okay,” I called back. “I’ll be right there.”
“Is Kyle here too?”
I paused. “He is.”
“Good. I made enough for everyone.”
I heard her footsteps recede.
Gas shook herself, sending droplets splattering onto the bathroom walls, the mirror, my face.
“Thanks,” I said, wiping my face.
I opened the bathroom door. Warm steam poured out, meeting the cooler air outside.
Sounds drifted in from the living room. Kids talking. The TV was on. Some cartoon. I heard Kyle’s voice, low, answering Alexander’s questions.
I led Gas out of the bathroom. She was still dripping, leaving wet footprints on the floor.
“You need to be dried,” I told her.
We walked to my bedroom. I took the hair dryer from the closet and plugged it in.
Gas backed away when she saw the dryer.
“Don’t be like that,” I said. “You know it’s necessary.”
She sat down. But her ears were flattened back.
I turned on the dryer. Not the highest setting. Medium heat. I began drying her fur, starting at her back, then her sides, then her legs.
The fur began to lift. Becoming fluffy. Returning to that soft golden color.
My hands ached. My arms ached. But I kept going. Brushing her fur over and over until it was completely dry, fluffy, smelling of lavender.
“There,” I finally said, turning off the dryer. “All done.”
Gas stood up, shook herself off, then walked over to my bed and jumped up.
“Gas, no-
–
>>
But she was already lying down, her head on my pillow, looking at me with an expression that said: I suffered. I deserve this.
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Chapter 404 The Happy House
Isighed. “Fine. You win.”
I stepped out of the bedroom. Sounds came from the kitchen. Clattering of dishes. My mom was talking.
I walked into the kitchen.
The table was loaded with food.
Too much food.
Pasta. Salad. Bread. And something that looked like meatballs.
“Mom,” I said, “when did you make all this?”
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“While you were bathing the dog,” she said, not looking up. She was slicing bread, “I figured since Kyle’s here, we should have a proper meal.”
“You didn’t have to-”
“I know I didn’t. I wanted to.” She looked up at me. “He’s dying, Mia. Let me cook him a meal.”
She said it calmly. No emotion. Just a statement of fact.
My throat tightened. “Okay.”
“Go get them,” she said. “Before the food gets cold.‘
I walked into the living room. Kyle was still on the couch, Madison beside him. Alexander and Ethan were on the floor, surrounded by a pile of Legos.
“Lunch is ready,” I said.
“Awesome!” Alexander jumped up. “I’m starving!”
“You’re always starving,” Ethan said, but he stood up too.
Madison slid off the couch and walked quietly toward the kitchen.
Kyle began to stand. His movements were slow and careful. His hands gripped the armrest of the couch to help himself up.
I watched him.
He looked so tired.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he said.
Lunch was eaten in silence.
Not an uncomfortable silence. Just the kind where everyone is eating, too busy chewing to talk.
Alexander ate three meatballs. Ethan carefully picked tomatoes out of his salad. Madison ate slowly, in small bites, but she was smiling.
Kyle didn’t eat much. He just moved his food around. Pushing it from one side of his plate to the other.
“Don’t you like it?” Mom asked, her voice sharp.
“No, it’s good,” Kyle said quickly. “I just–I’m not very hungry.”
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He picked up his tork and took a bite of pasta. Chewed. Swallowed.
1 I watched his throat work. Saw how much effort it took.
“Mama,” Alexander said, “can I have another meatball?”
“Sure.”
He reached for the plate. “Kyle, do you want a meatball? They’re delicious. Grandma makes the best ones.”
“Maybe later,” Kyle said.
“You should eat now,” Alexander insisted with the persistence of a five–year–old. “Because if you wait too long, they’ll get cold and won’t taste good anymore. Plus, Ethan might eat them all.”
“I won’t eat them all,” Ethan protested.
“You might. You like meatballs.”
“We all like meatballs.”
“Right. So Kyle should have one now, while they’re still hot.”
Kyle looked at Alexander. Then at me.
I shrugged.
He picked up a meatball. Took a bite.
“How is it?” Alexander asked, full of expectation.
“Good,” Kyle said. He was telling the truth. I could see it on his face.
“I knew it,” Alexander said, satisfied. “Grandma’s meatballs are the best in the world.”
“I don’t know every meatball in the world,” my mom said, but she was smiling. “But thank you, Alexander.”
After lunch, the kids wanted to go out and play.
“The park?” Alexander suggested.
“No,” I said immediately. “No park today.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“Today is the reason.”
“But Mama-”
“Alexander. No.”
His face fell. “What can we do?”
I looked at Kyle. “Kyle can play with you,” I said. “Here. In the apartment.”
“Really?” Alexander’s face lit up.
Kyle looked at me.
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“If you want to,” I said.
“I want to,” he said.
“But,” I added, looking at Kyle, “don’t indulge them. They’ll want to do all sorts of crazy things. Don’t let them.”
“I’ll try.”
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“I mean it, Kyle. Alexander will want to jump off the couch. Ethan will want to take something apart to see what’s inside. Madison-“I paused, “Madison’s usually fine. But you never know.”
“I understand.”
“I mean it. Don’t-”
“Mia.” His voice was gentle. “I’ll be careful.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I turned to the kids. “Listen to Kyle. Don’t get too wild. If he says stop, stop. Got it?”
“Got it!” Alexander said.
“Got it,” Ethan said.
Madison nodded.
“Alright,” I said. “I’m going to lie down for a bit. Mom’s in the kitchen. If anything happens, call her.”
“We’ll be fine,” Alexander assured me. “We’re very responsible kids.”
“Twenty minutes ago you were trying to jump from the window onto the tree.”
“That was before I became responsible.”
“Alexander-”
“Just kidding! Just kidding! We’ll be fine.”
I glanced at Kyle again. He nodded, offering his assurance.
I walked back to my bedroom.
Gas was still on my bed, now fully stretched out, taking up the entire space.
“Move over,” I told her.
She lifted her head, looked at me, then sighed and shifted to one side of the bed.
I climbed in. The mattress dipped under my weight. Gas’s warm body pressed against my leg.
Sounds came from outside. Kyle’s voice, low, saying something. Children’s laughter.
I closed my eyes.
Sleep came quickly. That heavy, irresistible sleepiness. Like being wrapped in a warm blanket, pulling me down.
I held Gas. Her fur was soft and fluffy, smelling of lavender. Her breathing steady and calm.
Ten puppies, I thought, on the edge of consciousness. Alexander said there would be ten.
I saw them, in my mind. Tiny golden fur balls. Tripping over their own paws. Tumbling over each other.
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Then the image changed.
A room. Not my apartment. Somewhere else. Bigger. Better light.
Windows. Big windows. Sunlight pouring in.
Wood floors. Light–colored. Warm.
The walls were white, but not that hospital white. Soft white. Creamy white.
And color. Color everywhere.
A blue sofa. A yellow chair. Green plants in the corner.
Bookshelves. Filled with books. Not neatly arranged. Casually stacked, like people actually read them.
A table. A big table. Wood. Where kids could draw, do homework, eat snacks.
And space. Space everywhere. Space to run. Space to play. Space to breathe.
The Happy House, I think.
The kids are there. Alexander is laughing. Ethan is reading. Madison is by the window, sunlight on her hair.
Gas is there, lying in the sun, puppies climbing on her.
And me-
I’m there.
Smiling.
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Chapt
