Sweet Dandelion

I hope one day, when I’m married and have kids, that we live on a farm. With chickens, goats, cows, all the animals and wide-open space. City living, while convenient, isn’t for me.

I walk outside into the darkness. Thankfully, my phone is in my pocket if something should happen.

Inhaling the cold air into my lungs, I force myself to slow my steps. My thoughts are erratic and I need to calm them down along with the beating of my heart.

I should open up to Sage when my feelings overwhelm me, but I already feel like a big enough burden on him without adding more onto his shoulders.

The streets are bustling with activity, but no one pays me much attention. I turn the corner at the end of the long block, head bowed.

All I want, more than anything, is to feel normal but I know that’s a reality I’ll never live again. I have to learn to live this new existence. One where my mom is gone, my friends died, and evil people destroyed my feeling of safety. Nothing can give that back to me.

“Dani?”

My head shoots up so quickly I nearly get whiplash. “Mr. Taylor—oh my God is that a bear?!” I jump back in surprise.

Logically, my school counselor walking a bear on a leash makes no sense, but the dog is massive. The biggest I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t seem real.

The giant brown bear—dog—sniffs at my body.

“No,” Mr. Taylor chuckles, “he’s a Newfoundland.” He smiles down at the beast. “Zeppelin, say hi to Dani.”

The dog’s long

pink tongue flicks out to lick my fingers.

“Zeppelin? Like Led Zeppelin?”

He laughs and starts walking back the way I came, so I’m forced to join him. “I’ve always had a thing for English bands.”

“Interesting.” I tuck that tidbit of information in the back of my mind. Learning about him makes it easier to open up. It feels as if we’re on equal footing. I don’t want anyone to know more about me than I know about them.

“What are you doing out here walking in the dark?” He pauses, letting the dog smell the sidewalk.

“I … uh … needed air.”

“Air.” He presses his lips together fighting a smile. “There wasn’t enough oxygen inside?”

I shake my head, exhaling a breath. “No.”

He frowns. “Wanna talk about it?”

This is why I’ve decided I like Mr. Taylor. He doesn’t press me to talk.

I bend down to his massive dog, rubbing his head. I laugh when Zeppelin gives me a wet sloppy kiss on my cheek.

This is why dogs are wonderful. They don’t judge. They give love easily. If only everyone was so kind to each other.

“I was thinking about my mom,” I admit, my throat thick. I stare into the warm brown eyes of his dog. It’s easier to speak to him than to look at Mr. Taylor.

“She should be here. I should be back home in Oregon having dinner with her. She should be scolding me for something I did or said, or begging me to stay home instead of going out.”

I laugh humorlessly, and finally look up at him. “I regret that so much—that I didn’t spend time with her. I took everything for granted, naively—no, selfishly—believing there would always be more time.”

I stand up, my left side tingling all over as I do. I look Mr. Taylor in the eyes, putting my thoughts out there.

“She’ll never tell me goodnight again. She’ll never ask if I finished my homework. She won’t see me graduate. She won’t drop me off for my first day of college. She won’t tell me to think twice about my decisions. She won’t see me meet my future husband, or get married, or have kids. She won’t see me build a life. And Sage…”

My throat closes up, tears spilling down my cheeks.