Ding, dong.
That must be Tallulah. I stand from the living room couch, Teddy at my heels, and open the front door. There’s Tallulah, carrying a small, blue-and-white cooler.
“Hi, Mr. Beckington!” she says, grinning. “Sorry I’m a little late; traffic was crazy on I-26.”
“It’s all good,” I reply, opening the door wider. “Come in. Natalie is cooking the barbecue out back.”
“I thought I smelled barbecue. And thank you.” Tallulah enters the house, and her eyes roll down to Teddy. “Oh! You must be Teddy!”
“He is,” I say, shutting the door and re-locking it.
“Hey, boy.” Tallulah sets the cooler down and kneels, scratching Teddy behind his ears. “I’ve heard many good things about you.” She looks up and meets my eyes. “Natalie said that y’all also have a cat?”
I nod. “Yes, a Maine Coon—Sophie. She was initially named Kimbra, but Natalie didn’t like that.”
“Oh, yuck.” Tallulah scrunches her nose. “I like Sophie a lot more.”
“Me, too,” I agree. “She should be in the back if you want to meet her. I’ll let Natalie know you’re here.”
“Thank you, Bill.” Tallulah picks up her cooler and stands. “I have a lemon meringue pie here for us after dinner.”
Mmm, more lemon meringue. I fight the urge to lick my lips and say, “I’ll show you where to put it.” With Teddy following, I lead Tallulah into the kitchen and gesture at the marble counter beside the sink. Sophie’s in the back den, resting on her tower, her head on her paws. “There’s Sophie,” I tell Tallulah, pointing at her.
At my voice, Sophie lifts her furry head, and her eyes land on Tallulah, who places the cooler on the counter.
“Oh, my goodness!” Tallulah says, approaching Sophie. “So, you’re Queen Sophie.”
As if she understands what “queen” means, Sophie stands on her tower and arches her back, tail straight up.
While Tallulah mingles with her, Teddy and I slowly approach the back door and push it open. A whiff of barbecue slams my nose, and I see Natalie hovering over the grill, humming to herself. Her new book rests on the steps behind her.
“Natalie?” I hoarsely call, but then I clear my throat. “Um… Tallulah’s here.”
“Tallulah?” Breaking into a smile, Natalie turns.
“Hey, Natalie!” Teddy and I jump slightly at the sound of Tallulah, who has snuck up behind us. “Oops. Sorry, Bill.”
“It’s fine.” I step aside, and Tallulah jogs down the stairs. She and Natalie embrace, and Tallulah sniffs the barbecue.
“Mmm, that smells wonderful.”
“I’m not used to making barbecue,” Natalie explains, “but I thought I might try for Daddy’s first birthday in the Deep South.” She gives me a loving look, her white teeth on full display. “Why don’t you and Teddy wait for us inside, Daddy? The barbecue will be ready soon.”
“Of course.” I back away and shut the door, asking myself again what Natalie and Tallulah are hiding because I still don’t know the “big” surprise.
Because of this, I can’t help but watch them talking out the den’s sliding glass door and notice them hugging; however, their stances speak concern this time instead of happiness.
Have I done something wrong?
Teddy sits back and offers me his paw, panting. At first, I push it away, but he holds it up again. I finally have no choice but to shake it and give him a small smile.
We wait patiently for Natalie and Tallulah. I flip through my new Corsair book, and Teddy curls in a ball at my feet.
The back door opens after another fifteen minutes, and Natalie and Tallulah enter. It’s just in time because a thunderclap explodes outside, and it begins to rain. There’s nothing like an evening thunderstorm in the Deep South. I’ve learned it happens nearly every day in the summer.
Teddy curls into a tighter ball, and Natalie pulls the drapes before the sliding glass door to comfort him.
She and Tallulah chat while they spread the meal and fill water glasses. Tallulah fixes a salad, and Natalie slips Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo into the DVD Player. She puts the TV on mute when the main menu pops up and claps, asking, “Who’s hungry?”
You know, I may be old, but I still have an enormous appetite. I stand and am the first to say, “I am!” I can already taste the sauce and mustard in the barbecue.
Natalie grins and waves me over. “Well, come on, birthday boy!”
I blush and hide behind my book for a second before lowering it. I toss it in my seat and hobble into the kitchen. My wrinkly hand grabs a plate, and I study the display before me: ribs, mac and cheese, baked beans, coleslaw—an authentic Southern meal. It looks so tasty that I do not know where to start, so Natalie appears beside me.
“What would you like, Daddy?” she inquires.
“One of everything,” I answer, and she chuckles.
Once my plate’s ready, I return to the living room and sink into my chair.
Teddy slips between my legs and the chair with another thunderclap.
“Aw, it’s okay, boy,” I say, rubbing him behind his ears.
Tallulah fixes her plate next and wraps around Teddy, plopping onto the couch. She pushes aside a deck of Uno cards and inquires, “So, what’s this movie about, Bill?”
“The Doolittle Raid,” I explain, continuing to pet Teddy. “Particularly”—my breath hitches slightly—“Ted Lawson.” It still hurts to say his name aloud, but it’s getting easier. Everything has become easier since I started at Patriots Point and met Teddy. Ted’s still fresh in my mind, but now I see good memories vs. terrible ones, knowing that maybe I will grant his wish for us to reach ninety-seven.
Just keep moving and volunteering, Bill. That’s the best you can do at your age.
Natalie hums again while she slaps a spoonful of coleslaw on her full plate. “I’m coming, Tallulah and Daddy! You can go ahead and start the movie.”
“No, we’ll wait for you, Nat,” Tallulah says. She looks at Sophie, who hops onto her tower again.
Another thunderclap brings a whine from Teddy.
Natalie licks barbecue off her fingers and almost jogs into the living room, excitement on her face. Nevertheless, she trips on the carpet with a final thunderclap, and her right foot crunches down on Teddy’s tail.
He cries out and leaps to his feet.
Natalie tumbles over him and lands on her hands and knees. Her plate smashes into pieces when it hits the floor, and food catapults in all directions.
Sophie jumps down from her tower and hides behind Natalie’s chair.
Teddy lifts his lip, revealing his sharp teeth. He barks, growls, and launches for Natalie.
“Ahh!” she screams, crawling away.
“Teddy!” Tallulah and I yell simultaneously. I have never seen him this aggressive! Natalie!
She backs into the cupboards under the TV and curls up. Natalie shakes, and tears run down her cheeks as Teddy draws closer.
No! No! That’s the traumatized child I saw in the New York City alleyway!
“Daddy!” Natalie shouts. “Please!”
“Teddy!” I struggle to my feet and threaten him with my cane, raising my voice. “Get away from her! Bad dog!”
Finally, Teddy calms down. His growls change to whimpers, but the damage has been done.
Tallulah grabs a bucket from the kitchen and hands it to Natalie, who vomits.
She slaps her hand to her chest and breathes heavily. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe,” she rasps, clutching her shirt.
I have not seen a panic attack like this from her in years. My eyes narrow, and I shout at Teddy, “Get out of here! It’s dogs like you that she’s scared of!”
Teddy again whimpers. He backs away and crawls under the kitchen table.
When Natalie throws up again and shows no signs of calming down, Tallulah scoops her phone off the couch and dials three numbers.
She’s calling EMS, and that only makes me angrier. I will never forgive Teddy for what he did to my little girl, the one person who’s tried helping me for forty years.
EMS arrives within ten minutes, and Tallulah lets them through the front door. She has just finished cleaning the mess in the living room and still carries a broom when they roll the gurney into the den.
They give Natalie oxygen and place her on the gurney, and all I can do is watch while she screams and thrashes under the medics. I should’ve gotten her help for cynophobia a long time ago, but I’m a terrible father—a terrible father—who only cares about himself and has been this way since the war. The guilt is atrocious—like a wildfire spreading, no matter how much firefighters try to contain it.
My weak legs jiggle, but Tallulah catches me. “Don’t worry, Bill. I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“This is all my fault, Tallulah.” My bottom lip twitches. “I should’ve never gotten Teddy in the first place.”
“Hey!” Tallulah gently pops me behind the ear. “Don’t say that. You picked up Teddy because he needed help. And what happened was an accident; he didn’t mean to do this to Natalie.”
I know that, but…
“She’s my daughter,” I choke out. “I wouldn’t still be here if not for her and Ted.”
Tallulah nods. “Exactly. And now she and Teddy need you more than ever. Come on”—she tugs my arm—“let’s get your neighbor to watch the animals.”
We learn from the paramedics that they’re taking Natalie to MUSC in Downtown Charleston because they sense something more than a panic attack is happening with her.
Oh, God, what have I done to my daughter? I think while the ambulance pulls out of the driveway and Tallulah jogs through the rain to the next-door neighbor. Has Natalie been getting sick, and I never even noticed?
I sit on the front steps, my face pale, and hear the pitter-patter of furry feet behind me. Teddy attempts to stick his nose under my arm, but I yell, “No!” and he cringes. He dips back into the house, and the next thing I see is Sophie lying under a table beside the front door. I pull her out and set her on my lap, patting her head. “Your mommy will be back soon, Sophie; she just needs to get checked out since she’s a little older.” Why Natalie, though? Why not me?
Sophie mews and cuddles into my arm.
Tallulah soon returns with Natalie and mine’s neighbor, Greg, a tall, middle-aged man who wears an olive rain jacket and a hood over his messy, red hair.
“Greg is happy to watch the animals until we return,” Tallulah says.
“I’m so sorry about your daughter,” Greg apologizes. I see he has a small suitcase behind him. “I’ll spend the night watching the animals. Right now, you and Tallulah need to hustle.”
“Thank you, Greg,” I whisper, handing him Sophie. “This is Sophie, Natalie’s cat. Teddy’s inside, but I don’t think he’s coming out for the rest of the night.” Serves him right for hurting my daughter.
Tallulah enters the house with Greg and returns with my Corsair book and the Thirty Seconds Over Tokyo DVD. “Just for comfort,” she says. “Now, let’s go.” She helps me down the front steps, and Greg appears in the doorway.
He grips the doorframe and nods at us.
I’m quiet on the way down Spruill Avenue toward Downtown Charleston. I’m not paying attention to Tallulah’s fancy Jeep; I’m thinking about Natalie, Ted, and Teddy. The last time Natalie had a panic attack that required hospitalization was when she was in her twenties, and I know part of it was because she had just begun looking for help for me.
Tallulah carefully weaves around the few drivers on Spruill and grips my hand.
A tear drips down my cheek, and I sniff. I thought things would work out with Teddy, but I’ve been living in a fairytale over the past few weeks. As soon as Natalie returns from the hospital, he’s going to the Humane Society, where he will never hurt my daughter ever again.
“I’m sorry, Teddy,” I think aloud, “but I have to do this.”
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