7: Clear Skies
Bedded down on the couch, Izzy slept better than usual despite the raging storm outside, and woke to a wet but sunny morning, the storm vanquished again to the horizon by bright rays of sunshine. A rainbow was just starting to peek through as well, arching through the sky and disappearing into the horizon.
Shortly after she awoke, Shawn appeared, picking his way across the muddy back lawn to the house with Storm squirming under one arm. As soon as the door was shut the puppy escaped, running straight under the coffee table and peeking out at her. Laughing, Izzy stretched out a hand to him, trying to coax him out of his cover.
"He kept me up almost all night," Shawn said as he passed, heading straight for the kitchen.
"What was he doing?" Izzy asked, throwing off her blankets and trailing after him, leaving Storm to fend for himself. She grinned at the sound of him creeping after her but ignored it, not wanting to scare him off.
"Running around and stuff." He pulled half a dozen cereals out of the cupboard as he talked, setting each on the bench as if he couldn't just decide on one. "He's scared of storms, by the way."
"I still like his name," she replied defensively, seeing what he was getting at.
Shawn just shrugged, shoving the fruit loops in her direction. "So you're naming him after his phobia?" he joked. "That's harsh."
"What do you call a fear of storms?" she asked, pouring a bowl of the cereal. Fruit loops had become her favourite cereal and snack since that one day she had eaten them with Shawn some weeks ago.
"I dunno, what?"
"I dunno. I was asking you."
"Oh."
She gave his shoulder a half-hearted shove and headed to the breakfast bar with her bowl of fruit loops, taking a seat. Milk appeared beside her, courtesy of Shawn, and within moments she was savouring her first mouthful of the heavenly cereal. As she swallowed, she heard whining beside her and looked down to see Storm sitting at her feet and looking up at her hopefully.
"Oh man, you must be so hungry," she said suddenly, glancing up at Shawn and then back down to the dog. "Got anything for a dog?"
Shawn paused, looking thoughtful. "I think there's dog biscuits in the garage," he said finally, turning his attention back to his own cereal. Apparently, he wasn't in any hurry to find said biscuits.
Izzy sighed and lay down her spoon. "Alright, I'll get it," she said peevishly, earning a sharp look from Shawn. She stuck her tongue out at him. "You coming Storm?" she asked of the dog, who stood and wagged his tail hard, looking up at her with big eyes. That was a yes, she assumed. He followed at her heels all the way to the dark garage, balking at the door and refusing to come in until she found the light switch. Even then, he tiptoed in, paws barely making a sound on the hard concrete floor.
It took a thorough search of three shelves to find the small bag of dog biscuits, shoved behind a box of spare parts for the dragster that took up the space made for three cars. There was a dusty bowl shoved in next to it, which she took as well after a thorough check for spiders. That was one thing she wasn't particularly keen on being bitten by. "Why do you have dog biscuits?" she asked Shawn, dumping them on the bench and crossing the kitchen to give the bowl a thorough clean.
He watched her pass. "My dad bought a dog," he began. "And then Nan rescued it, and now it lives with Bess' other mum Margaret." He shrugged and went on eating cereal like what he had just said wasn't one of the most confusing things she'd ever heard.
"Well that explains it," she said sarcastically, drying the food bowl and eyeing her own cereal, sitting deserted on the other side of the kitchen, as she poured out a healthy serving of biscuits. Storm fed, she sat the bowl on the floor by her feet and went back to eating her own breakfast, the black puppy chowing down happily beside her. Shawn sat down next to her a moment later with his own bowl, earning a wary look from Storm, before the dog decided he wasn't a threat and continued eating.
While Shawn was distracted, Izzy leaned over and dipped her spoon into his bowl, stealing a mouthful of thoroughly soaked coco pops and chocolate-soaked milk. They were cold and soggy and not half as appetising as her own cereal. "What are you doing?" Shawn asked as he blocked his bowl much too late.
She made a face in response, not at all enjoying the mouthful of slop. "Are you really enjoying that?" she fired back, throwing two spoonfuls of fruit loops into her mouth at once in an attempt to forget the taste of soggy coco pops, minus the coco. It wasn't working.
"Yes." He sounded offended, but it didn't even make her pause – he couldn't possibly be silly enough to hold a grudge over cereal.
"I think I know where Storm can go," Shawn said later, as they finished their cereal and brought the bowls to the sink.
"What do you mean?" Izzy asked, dumping her bowl and crouching to scratch Storm's ears.
Shawn turned, leaning against the counter. "Well, we have to find another home for him, because he can't stay here or at your place."
Izzy glanced up. "You know someone who will take him?"
He nodded. "Nuts might. His dad is kind of crazy about dogs – they have like three already, but they might be willing to take Storm."
"That'd be awesome." Right on cue, Storm barked loudly, as if to sound his approval as well, making them both laugh.
"You think that means he's happy about it too?" Shawn asked, gesturing at the dog.
Izzy gave the puppy another scratch behind the ears. "Of course."
She came home Sunday afternoon to an unusually active May Crescent. The woman who lived across the road was out watering her garden for the first time since Izzy had moved here, despite her plants having passed the point of no return long ago. She stared curiously as Izzy approached, not bothering to hide her obvious interest. The rose bush that had previously poked through the fence next door had been cut back and brought under some semblance of control, and she could see movement in the front room of that house.
Most surprisingly, her own mother was sitting out on the porch step in front of the house instead of inside on the couch, smoke curling from the end of a lit cigarette in her right hand and from her mouth as she breathed out, a beer on the cracked concrete beside her. It wasn't until Izzy got closer that she saw the blooming purple bruise on the woman's left cheek, reaching across her cheekbone and colouring her eye black as well. She almost stopped in surprise, but her mother just sat there as if her face wasn't turning black and blue by the minute.
She looked downright pissed as well as bruised, so Izzy avoided conversation and headed straight for the door. "You don't want to go in there," her mother said abruptly as her hand touched the handle, making her pause.
"Why not?" she asked.
Anne Walker sighed heavily, took a swig of her beer and a long drag of the cigarette in her hand, and then turned to answer. "Why do you fucking think?" she replied with more force than she'd meant to, snapping back around to avoid saying anything more that she might regret.
Izzy took a step back at the sudden, blinding rage, hand dropping from the door handle. "Did Dad do that to you?" she asked awkwardly after a pause, shifting the heavy bag on her shoulders to a more comfortable position.
Her mother just puffed smoke in reply.
The sound of the door handle turning stopped Izzy from saying anything more; instead, she scurried to the other end of the porch, as far away from the door as she could get, a moment before it opened and her father stepped out, blinking, into the late sunlight. "Anne," he said gruffly, shutting the door firmly behind him.
"Just go," the woman sitting at the foot of the porch replied coldly, smoke curling from her mouth and staining the fresh afternoon air with the acrid smell of burning nicotine.
Remarkably, he listened, stomping off towards the car and driving away without another word. Stunned, Izzy went for the door again, and this time she made it inside without interference, dropping her bag on her bed and locking her bedroom door. She didn't need answers to her questions. She already knew them.