A๎er the meal Nora went back to Dylanโs house to watch the Ryan Bailey movie.ย ๎ขey had a half-drunk bottle of wine that the restaurant let them take home. Her self-justi๏ฌcation regarding going to Dylanโs was that he was sweet and open and would reveal a lot about their life without having to pry too deep.
He lived in a small terraced house on Huxley Avenue that he had inherited from his mum.ย ๎ขe house was made even smaller by the amount of dogs there.ย ๎ขere were ๏ฌve that Nora could see, though there may have been more lurking upstairs. Nora had always imagined she liked the smell of dog, but she suddenly realised there was a limit to this fondness.
Sitting down on the sofa she felt something hard beneath her โ a plastic ring for the dogs to gnaw on. She put it on the carpet amid the other chew toys.ย ๎ขe toy bone.ย ๎ขe foam yellow ball with chunks bitten out of it. A half-massacred so๎ย toy.
A Chihuahua with cataracts tried to have sex with her right leg.
โStop that, Pedro,โ said Dylan, laughing, as he pulled the little creature away from her.
Another dog, a giant, meaty, chestnut-coloured Newfoundland, was sitting next to her on the sofa, licking Noraโs ear with a tongue the size of a slipper, meaning that Dylan had to sit on the ๏ฌoor.
โDo you want the sofa?โ โNo. Iโm ๏ฌne on the ๏ฌoor.โ
Nora didnโt push it. In fact, she was quite relieved. It made it easier to watchย Last Chance Saloonย without any further awkwardness. And the
Newfoundland stopped licking her ear and rested its head on her knee and Nora felt โ well, not happy exactly, but not depressed either.
And yet, as she watched Ryan Bailey tell his on-screen love interest that โLife is for living, cupcakeโ while simultaneously being informed by Dylan that he was thinking of lettingย anotherย dog sleep in his bed (โHe cries all night. He wants his daddyโ), Nora realised she wasnโt too enamoured with this life.
And also, Dylan deserved the other Nora.ย ๎ขe one who had managed to fall in love with him.ย ๎ขis was a new feeling โ as if she was taking someoneโs place.
Realising she had a high tolerance for alcohol in this life, she poured herself some more wine. It was a pretty ropey Zinfandel from California. She stared at the label on the back.ย ๎ขere was for some reason a mini co-autobiography of a woman and a man, Janine and Terenceย ๎ขornton, who owned the vineyard which had made the wine. She read the last sentence:ย When we wereย ๏ฌrst married we always dreamed of opening our own vineyard one day. And now we have made that dream a reality. Here at Dry Creek Valley, our life tastes as good as a glass of Zinfandel.
She stroked the large dog whoโd been licking her and whispered a โgoodbyeโ into the Newfoundlandโs wide, warm brow as she le๎ย Dylan and his dogs behind.
