The Do-Over(26)
Author: Suzanne Park

 

In my past life, when PetMania was one of my clients, it was my responsibility to conduct dozens of focus groups with pet owners. Self-professed dog lovers were lively in their discourse, far more energetic and chattier than I expected as they gushed about their pups, and this was definitely not how I would describe Jake. Seeing Jake in this slice-of-life moment was perplexing to me.

 

Simply put, he didn’t give off dog-owner energy. Not back then, and not now.

 

Did he give manic Asian Back to the Future Doc Brown vibes in college sometimes? Yes. But bubbly, yippy dog-owner vibes? No.

 

The rain continued to soak through my clothes, making them cling to me like an octopus clutching its prey. And of course I had on a heavyweight, absorbent cotton hoodie and jeans in the thickest fall denim. My waterlogged sweatshirt turned into a weighted blanket and the pants suctioned to my thighs, making my stride heavier and slower with each step. The only thing that was waterproof was my backpack, and thank goodness for that, because my laptop and reading materials were inside.

 

Jake veered off the path as his doggy contemplated a bathroom break next to a spindly maple. I drew closer and he saw me. “Hey, Lily! Wanna share? It’s a golf umbrella. Those backpacks are good but they’re water resistant, not waterproof.”

 

My sneakers squished as I continued walking. “No thanks.”

 

Jake cocked his head, and his dog mirrored his head tilt. Great, even this dog thought it was idiotic to turn down rain protection. “But the rain’s getting worse.” He was right, it was pouring now. And my refusing to take shelter under his umbrella was nothing more than me being petty. I sometimes wondered if holding long grudges was hereditary, because my parents did the same. If it was a sport, the Lee family would be Olympians. Maybe it was in our DNA, and as Kylo Ren tells Rey, “The dark side is in our blood.” It was just how we were. How I was.

 

But maybe just once I could resist it for the sake of self-preservation.

 

“Okay,” I conceded, while pushing my sopping wet curtain bangs from my eyes. I took steps toward him and the dog growled. “I’m headed to Cobbs Library, if you’re headed that way.”

 

“I’m going to my office, so it’s no trouble. And don’t worry about her. She’s just territorial. Thinks you’re trying to steal her favorite pee spot.” More snarling. “Sasha, no! She’s just sharing the umbrella with us.”

 

I swear, Sasha rolled her eyes at me as she squatted. There was more than enough room for the two of us plus Sasha under his umbrella. It was practically the size of a pop-up tent. “Thank you for the coverage. Is Sasha your dog?”

 

He nodded. “Yup.”

 

Silence fell between us. That’s it? No more info? No backstory on why a grown-ass man would have such a tiny-ass dog?

 

After a few seconds he asked, “Do you like dogs?”

 

Back when we were dating, this sort of thing never came up. We had other priorities besides discussing pet affinity.

 

I scrunched my nose. “I had dogs growing up.”

 

“That’s not the same thing as liking them.”

 

“It’s not?”

 

He answered, “It’s not. That’s like me asking, ‘Do you like popcorn, specifically those tins with caramel and cheese?’ and you saying, ‘I have some in my pantry.’ It doesn’t mean you like it, or even eat it. It could be your roommate’s, or a long-forgotten present.”

 

“People give popcorn as a present?” I gaped.

 

“Anyone gifting me popcorn would be my soul mate.” He stopped walking. “Garrett’s is the best.”

 

“I have a sweet tooth. I’d want perfectly baked chocolate chip cookies. Crispy on the outer rim, chewy on the inside. A hint of brown butter and vanilla flavor. My roommate makes them and they’re close to perfect.”

 

He turned to face me as we approached the campus grounds. “I bake cookies.”

 

“You do?” Who was this man?

 

“I preheat the oven, cut the cookie dough log, and let them cook for ten to twelve minutes until they turn a golden brown.” He showed a hint of a smile.

 

A snort escaped me. “That’s not baking. I can’t believe you said that. That’s offensive to all home bakers around the world.”

 

He pointed out, “Technically, it is baking, because I’m pressing the bake button on my oven. That makes me a baker, aka a person who bakes. And I’m afraid my human-walking services end here. No dogs allowed around the main campus library.”

 

While we chatted, I forgot that the rain had soaked every inch of me. Even my bra and underwear were drenched, and my running shoes made slurping sounds as I walked. Not too sad about leaving the downpour, but my heart fluttered inside my chest as Jake and Sasha waited for me to leave their umbrella canopy and enter the library building.

 

Jake’s eyes sparkled and his lips turned upward into a smirk, making me suspicious.

 

“Why are you smiling?”

 

“She likes you.”

 

He pointed to my feet. Sasha had finished sniffing me and sat on my right sneaker. “She hates everyone. Including my ex, her former owner.”

 

Aha! Thank you, Sasha, for drawing out Jake’s origin story. I owe you one for that.

 

I squatted down to pet her, and my knees popped, scaring her into a standing, teeth-snarling position, which made Jake burst into uncontrollable laughter.

 

“She gets this way only on the Fourth of July when the neighborhood goes berserk with illegal fireworks.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry for laughing. My knees pop like that too. Seeing her trying to act ferocious, as if her Chihuahua and Jack Russell terrier genes were not an impediment, is just so funny to me.”

 

Sasha’s ears pricked up, then she flopped down on my shoe again and rolled to her side.

 

He explained, “Now she wants you to rub her belly, even on the wet sidewalk. Man, I’ve really spoiled her.” Jake pulled gently on her leash, but Sasha wouldn’t budge.

 

With my knees already loosened, I attempted a second squat. After about ten seconds of petting, I resumed standing. Sasha rolled to her feet and barked. A soft, quick yip.

 

Jake tilted the umbrella and scooped her up. “That’s her way of showing appreciation. Thanks for the fun walk. And look! The rain is slowing.”

 

I hadn’t noticed it had transitioned from a cascade to a hard drizzle to a sprinkle. I’d missed the entire progression.