Agency

In Which Berenice Knocks on Simon's Door at Midnight

much later that night

There was only one way to manage this. At least, there was only one way that had occurred to Berenice.

She said nothing to Berry about the phone call. She couldn't be sure on which side his loyalties would lie, and since it seemed he'd lied to her about where Waffles had come from, it stood to reason that he could not be trusted at this point in time.

Instead, she waited until everyone in the house was asleep. She was fueled by caffeine, self-righteous indignation and a determination to keep what was rightfully hers.

When she was sure nobody would hear her leave, she crept to the kitchen and struggled in the dark to clip the leash onto the sleeping dog's collar. She had to employ a pocketful of treats and a fair amount of physical strength to convince the lazy animal to leave his bed.

Once she had him moving, she led him out into the quiet back yard, let him pee in one of the holes left by Papa's crew (not the one they'd found the remains in just in case -- it does not pay to have spirits annoyed with you) and then hurried him into the car.

Berenice had not driven a car in years, always preferring to let Berry do the driving. She sat for a moment in the dark car, trying to work out how to turn the headlights on. Waffles snorted companionably in her ear as she got her bearings.

"Don't worry, Waffles," she whispered. "I'm not going to let her take you."

For his part, Waffles had no idea what the lady was talking about. And truthfully, if he had known, he wouldn't really have cared. This lady and the red-haired lady were much and such the same to him. Although this house did have food-flavoured children in it and so he might have chosen to stay with Berenice if he'd understood his options and had any amount of agency (which, as a dog, he really had very little of, and he knew it).

In the end, as long as he wasn't going back to the pound, he was happy.

Jerkily, Berenice maneuvered the car out into the back alley and angled it toward the street.

***

It wasn't until she arrived at Simon's door that she wondered if she oughtn't to have texted him first. It was nearly midnight, and they both would have classes tomorrow.

Oh well, she thought, steeling herself for what was bound to be a strange conversation. She was here now. May as well move ahead with her plan.

She knocked loudly, assuming Simon would probably be asleep.

When he came to the door almost immediately, she was surprised.

"Bee?" he looked at her through the door chain. "What in the hell are you doing out in the world so late at--"

"--Simon, I need your help. I don't want to lose him," she said beseechingly.

At that, the chain slid across, and the door was opened all the way.

Simon was shirtless and, she couldn't help but notice, was a single button-fly button shy of also being pantless. That didn't stop him from gathering Berenice into his arms and smoothing her back comfortingly.

"Oh no, what's Berry done? Tell me everything," he said. "Don't leave anything out."

She shook her head. "Not Berry. Waffles!" She led the dog into the apartment and shrugged off her coat. "Can we go sit down?"

Simon rubbed the back of his neck, uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Ah... it's just that it's not really a good time..."

Seeing the desperation in Berenice's face, though, he melted.

"I mean, yes, of course. Of course, you can come in." He followed her into the living room, where she wasn't expecting to find the handsome waiter from Rafael's sitting on the couch. Despite the hastily grabbed cushion covering his lap, it was clear that he was totally, completely naked.

"Oh!" she said in surprise. She turned to Simon.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I've barged in on your... date. I knew I should have texted first.

Both Simon and the waiter rushed to make her feel better by waving her mortification off and acting as though it was all no big deal.

Which, she supposed, it really wasn't.

"What's going on?" the waiter asked with genuine interest. "That is a huge dog," he added.

Simon jumped in. "She's split up with her husband. Something to do with waffles. Scooch over, Rod."

Rod -- a name which seemed straight from a 1970s homo-erotic novella -- scooched and patted the cushion beside him.

"No, I..." hesitated Berenice. "I don't want to intrude."

In all honesty, she didn't mind intruding. It was sitting beside a naked almost-stranger that she wasn't sure about.

"Oh, honey," said Rod. "It's no trouble. We're here for you. Tell us what happened. Who did you catch him having waffles with? Men can be such dogs, no offence to those present."

Against her better judgement, she went to the couch and sat woodenly beside the man she was more accustomed to seeing in a white shirt and black bar staff apron.

Simon came and sat down on her other side.

"It's not my husband I'm worried about losing," she tried again to explain. "It's the dog. Mister Waffles."

Rod and Simon looked at each other over the top of Berenice's head. Then they looked at the dog.

Rod burst out in giggles.

"That huge animal is called Mister Waffles?" he laughed. "Waffles!"

"My kids named him," explained Berenice, although secretly she thought it was a perfectly lovely name. Better than Rod.

"Okay," said Simon. "You're going to have back all the way up. This is your dog? I didn't even know you liked dogs."

She shrugged. "I didn't know I did either, but he... he's become really important to me."

"How long have you had him?"

"That's not the point," she replied. "He's the only thing I understand right now."

"Awwww," said Rod, picking up Berenice's hand and tutting over it. "I totally, totally, get that. Loving an animal can be just... you know... so simple. It's loving humans that can be a real bitch."

Simon looked skeptically at Rod but didn't pursue it.

"Bee? I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to think about it before you answer me."

She nodded slowly.

"Is this really about the dog? Or is there something else?"

She sniffed haughtily.

"This Englishwoman called me, claiming Waffles is hers. She wants to take him away from us. I'm not going to let her."

"Where's Berry in all this?" Simon pressed. He was always so damned good at finding a vein. Berenice paused, looking from Waffles to Simon and trying to skim politely over naked-but-for-a-cushion Rod who hadn't yet let go of her hand.

She crumbled.

"I don't know. Berry's been acting strangely for weeks. Months. It all started when they dug up that bone..."

The whole story tumbled out as the two men listened carefully. Jim's cancer secret, the debt, Berry's late hours and sneaky behaviour, the phone call, and the spectre of an angry spirit waiting for her to make things right. It was a relief to say it all out loud.

When she was done, Rod pulled her into an awkward embrace, which she allowed. So what if he was naked? It felt nice to be held.

"Okay," said Simon, grabbing his shirt and throwing Rod his waiter's uniform. "Enough feeling sorry for ourselves. What are we going to do about it?"

Then, Berenice, Simon, and a handsome waiter named Rod came up with a plan.