Page 70 of Melancholia

Barking catches my attention and my heart suddenly flutters with surprised hope. I know that bark. And sure enough, I know the black German Shepherd who charges me, only to stop at my legs, panting, to lick at my fingers in greeting.

“Umbra!” I gasp happily, finally able to tell the two of them apart by the slight amount of silver-white fur she has on one hip. “Hi pretty girl! Who’s my gorgeous girl?” Scratching her ears, I notice that there’s a leash trailing behind her, and she’s alone. “Where’s Noctis, huh?” I ask, not seeing any sign of him. My heart lurches in my chest, and alarm jolts through me. Is he lost? Did she get away from Amir somehow, and⁠—

Someone screams in exasperation, rather than alarm. Another dog rounds the corner, and before I can even reach a hand up, Noctis is pressing into me and Umbra, sniffing my hands and arms like there’s something tasty on them instead of just chemicals.

Hestia rounds the corner a second later, the panic in her eyes fading when she sees me. “Oh, thank God,” she gasps, sagging against the wall. “Holy shit, I thought they were going to run away. Fuck.” She pants, her hand going through her hair. “I love Amir, and I swear I love them. But I can’t do this today like I thought I could. There’s overstock here, and the truck came late, and⁠—”

“I can watch them.” The offer is out of my mouth before I can think to say otherwise. “If Amir is okay with it. Want me to text him?” The irony of my willingness to text him when I can do something for him, but not when I could really use his company or even his conversation to help me, is not lost on me.

“Are you sure? I mean, that would be so incredibly helpful. You can take them up to the apartment if you want. I don’t care. I know they aren’t gonna shit everywhere.” She looks at me with hope in her eyes. “You sure you don’t mind? I’ll make you a coffee for your way up.”

“I really, really do not mind,” I assure her, my phone already in my hand.

Hestia needs a break from the dogs. Mind if I watch them?

The message is fired off before I can consider that it sounds way too forward and personal. But thankfully, before I can second-guess myself, his reply comes in.

Do you need me to come get them?

No. I don’t even hesitate. No, I really like them. I don’t mind if you don’t.

I don’t mind. Thank you, my little mortician.

The term of affection seems so natural at the end of his message, and I feel a small shiver go through me. The private endearment warms me up no matter how cold the abyss in my head feels.

When I’m back inside, Hestia stops me just long enough to make my drink. “Do you like pumpkin spice?” she asks offhandedly. “I just got it in for the season.”

“Of course I do. Look at me,” I joke, gesturing down at my all-black clothing. “I’m that kind of stereotypical sad girl.”

“I had no idea.” Hestia’s teasing strikes me as familiar, affectionate…and something I haven’t had from someone around my age in a long time. She moves to put a few pumps of pumpkin spice in my latte, then hands it off to me with a flourish of pumpkin-colored cold foam on top. “Let me know what you think. The cold foam is new from the company I get it from.”

I take a sip as the dogs hang out at my sides, never once pulling or acting like they want to topple the natural order of Coffee Crest. I lift my brows at the hit of nutmeg and spice on my tongue. “Oh. That’s so good, Hestia. It’s spicier than I expected? But in a really good way.”

“Yeah?”

I nod and head to the door leading to the stairs. “Thank you! And I’ll text Amir about picking them up or whatever. Just, uh, I guess if I don’t come down and they don’t come down for a few days, maybe assume I died and they’re eating me?”

“In which case I will call Amir to clean you up. No offense, but I’m too squeamish for that.” She makes a face and shudders, her look causing a grin to curve up over my lips.

“Fair.” I lead both dogs up the stairs, opening the door to my apartment with a little flick of my hand.

“Okay, so. House rules.” I unclip their leashes and coil both on the table, watching the dogs wander the studio apartment. “Don’t break anything or chew anything beyond repair. Don’t eat me, because I feel like that wouldn’t be very comfortable for you in the end. I probably taste gross because of all the meds, anyway. But other than that…” I walk over to my bed, sitting down and patting it. Both dogs hop up on it before I can question if Amir lets them on the bed, and Noctis sprawls over the foot, while Umbra throws herself onto a pillow with a sigh like a single mom with two jobs.

“Yeah, life is so hard, huh?” I sigh, reaching out to scratch behind her soft, long-furred ears. “I get it. You have it harder than any of us.” Turning on the TV, I navigate to my streaming services until I end up with The Golden Palace starting on the screen.

Noctis sneezes, and it’s too opportune for me not to snort. “Yeah, I get it. Absolutely awful sequel. But I gotta take a break from the originals or else I’m going to start telling people to ‘picture it’ and addressing myself as a southern belle.” As if in response, Noctis kicks out his back legs until his paws hang off the bed.

With the episode holding my attention, I only belatedly remember I really have to figure out what this number that’s been calling me is. Or at the very least figure out if it’s truly spam. My phone doesn’t say so, and from what I’ve discovered online, it doesn’t come back to any questionable activity. Instead, it keeps coming back to a law office in Michigan. Not that I have any reason to be getting calls by any law office.

I dial the number again, and when the call picks up, I get the same rush of anxiety I always do when I have to talk to a stranger over the phone. Like maybe this time, I’ve called the devil, and I’ll get murdered through the phone somehow.

There’s no other explanation for how my nervous system lights up over a phone call, I figure.

“Hello? Michaels and Waters Law Office. How can I direct your call?” The woman sounds pleasant and professional, and the law office part catches me off guard.

“Um… I think maybe I have the wrong number,” I admit, pulling my knee to my chest. “I’ve been getting calls from this number for about a week now? I’m trying to figure out why.”

“Can I get your name, ma’am?”