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She won’t want forever with you, my conscience whispers.
I look into her eyes, and cup her face. “I wish we could.”
Bryce
“This is so fun.”
I smile watching Charly’s eyes bounce from vendor to vendor. Every year towards the end of the summer, Bar Harbor locals throw a festival. I haven’t attended since Mom and Dad were alive, but I knew I’d be here this time because of Charly.
I woke up this morning feeling more achy than usual, so I opted to take my wheelchair instead of trying to push through the crowd with my cane when I’m not feeling stable on my feet.
“Let’s start on this end, and we’ll work our way around.” Nana adjusts her sunglasses. “We have to take Charly to The Side Street Café for lunch. Their food is to die for. Plus, they have outdoor seating, so we’ll be able to take the pooch.”
Edward looks up at Nana with his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he trots beside Charly.
I smirk. “I swear, this dog understands what we’re saying.”
“Of course he does.” Charly leans down and scratches behind his ear. “He’s the smartest dog on the planet.”
“And his gas is the smelliest.” Nana scrunches her nose. “He was flatulating all over the dining room this morning.”
“I think that was Charly.”
Charly gasps, and smacks my arm. “It was not, you liar.”
I bark out a laugh. It feels good to be in town with her, to be a part of this tightknit community. I’ve missed out on a lot over the years—to no fault of my own—and it’s like I have my life back.
Charly helped give me my life back.
Which is why I have to make sure she keeps living hers to the fullest.
Charly points to the crowd gathering in the street. “What’s going on over there?”
“That’s the potato sack race.” Nana shakes her head on a smile. “My Benjamin was the reigning champ for almost a decade.”
I nudge Charly with my elbow. “You should bring the trophy home for us.”
Her eyes widen. “There’s a trophy?”
“Mhmm. It’s the Super Bowl of all potato sack races.”
She hands Edward’s leash to Nana. “Hold my dog, Nana. I’m gonna go win us a trophy.”
We watch as Charly marches over to the announcer at the podium. He tips the brim of his baseball hat, and hands her a tattered burlap bag. The other participants make room for her at the starting line, and she smiles at everyone, making small talk while they wait for the race to start.
I move my chair as close to the barricade as possible. Several people move out of the way, letting me in front of them so I can see the race, while others pretend like I’m not taking up space right beside them.
“Potatoes, take your sacks,” the announcer shouts, as laughter ripples through the crowd. “You know the rules. Stay in your own lane, no cutting each other off or tripping one another. Are you ready?”
Charly and the racers hoot, pumping their fists in the air.
“On your marks. Get set.” His starting pistol fires a shot into the air. “Go!”
Over a dozen potato sacks start hopping across the street.
Nana cups her mouth. “Go, Charly!”
Edward’s eyes dart from left to right, not sure what all the commotion is about.
