By Zephyria The two ordered cola, burritos, and chili fries.
Tennessee’s gaze lingered for a moment on the happy-looking Amber. Whenever they were together, Amber’s mood tended to trend upward, sometimes reaching the very edge of the sky. Amber seemed to be trying to maintain his composure in his own way, but unfortunately for him, it was transparent to Tennessee.
“Why the shelter?”
“Do you like dogs?”
Amber didn’t answer immediately. In Michigan, he had raised several dogs. A chocolate Labrador had lived for 16 years and passed away; now, a Pitbull and a Chihuahua remained. As a side note, the Chihuahua was the top of the hierarchy.
To be honest, Amber found dogs overwhelming. It was because of the way they clung to him, wagging their tails and showing affection despite him having done nothing for them; the way their eyes always met whenever he looked back; and the fact that they relied on him completely, yet he felt unable to reciprocate.
“Want to raise one?”
He couldn’t help but ask back.
“What? In Chicago? Is that why we’re going to the shelter now?”
Tennessee nodded. Amber began to lecture him, saying that dogs aren’t raised on impulse, that economic conditions must be met, an environment suitable for a dog must be prepared, one must know about dogs, and there must be a sense of responsibility.
“I didn’t say we’re bringing one home today.”
Tennessee worried he might be buried in nagging. Since childhood, Amber had been a bratty kid. It seemed to be his innate personality; even after all this time, Amber occasionally tried to get the upper hand.
That fact wasn’t particularly unpleasant for Tennessee.
Amber could feel that Tennessee had given this quite some thought. It wasn’t an impulsive suggestion. Economically, it was feasible.
But regardless of other things, wouldn’t he fail to meet the passing grade in terms of responsibility?
Amber, who had fallen into the hell of farewells and reunions multiple times? Though he loved him dearly—he couldn’t help but give a cold, objective assessment.
“Do you like dogs, Tennessee?”
Now it was Tennessee’s turn to think. As Amber held a fry to his lips, Tennessee opened his mouth.
“I wanted to try raising one.”
He mentioned that in the second place he had been adopted, there had been a large dog. Tennessee had only mentioned that he had been adopted and returned repeatedly, but he had never given the details. Amber’s ears perked up.
“It wouldn’t let me touch it.”
The one on the leash wasn’t the dog, but the young Tennessee. Tennessee recalled his childhood. In reality, there wasn’t a leash around his neck, but that’s how it felt. It was a life like a prison.
Not long after, he stole money and ran away from there. While wandering the streets, he committed his second murder. He only killed because he didn’t want to die, but the second murder was as disgusting as, or even more so than, the first. He was in his teens, perhaps. He couldn’t even remember properly.
Then he committed another crime, and not wanting to go to prison, he pretended to be an innocent child. At the time, Tennessee had a particularly youthful face and a delicate impression compared to his peers, which made him a child who received unwanted attention from adults.
“So you wanted to raise one?”
“I didn’t expect much.”
Amber felt he could understand Tennessee’s faint longing.
“I had something like that too.”
“Like what?”
Since his early childhood, even before entering elementary school, there was something he desperately wanted to do. He had never spoken of it for fear of being teased.
“A birthday party. Hitting a piñata.”
The sound of applause, cheers, and joyful laughter. Not feeling anxious even with eyes covered, and not feeling alienated even while standing alone among people. He wanted to hear “Happy Birthday” while gathering the candies scattered across the grass.
Thinking about it now, Amber realized he might have wanted it not because of the piñata itself, but because it symbolized a happy, normal family.
That didn’t mean he disliked piñatas. Before his adoption, Amber had never even received a proper cake, let alone a piñata, so he had fantasies about such things.
Whether they noticed or were simply concerned, his adoptive parents threw grand birthday parties every year after his adoption. Though he had become too old to burst a piñata.
“Want to go to the shelter?”
At the softness imbued in the low voice, Amber nodded as if possessed. Then, Amber rubbed his chest.
How should he put it—it felt as if Tennessee was preparing to take root. It was an intuition.
“I’d like that.”
There were numerous dogs at the shelter. There were cats too, but when Tennessee mentioned cats, Amber dismissed it with, “One is enough.” Suddenly, Tennessee had become the cat. Of course, Amber wasn’t talking about a house cat, but something like a giant black panther with yellow eyes.
They say animals have a sixth sense. Perhaps that was why, even the dogs that were said to love people and the small puppies didn’t particularly like Tennessee. When Tennessee approached, they whimpered, wet themselves, or tucked their tails and trembled.
“Oh dear… this won’t work.”
Far from getting close, it seemed the dogs would have a seizure just by his existence.
Actually, he didn’t really want to raise a puppy—as he was gathering these words to soothe Tennessee, who might be disappointed, a dog lying flat on the floor caught Amber’s eye.
Unlike the other dogs who were making a fuss or were terrified, that dog was lying leisurely and let out a wide yawn. The dog, which had been lying still and apart from the others, stood up as Tennessee approached. Then, it began to wag its tail gently. It was a dog with blue eyes and black markings, appearing to be a Border Collie mix.
“I’ve picked a name.”
“……Already?”
He had picked a name before even adopting it. Amber smiled at the surprised Tennessee.
“Nashville.”
After that, every time the front door opened, the sound of an excited beast’s claws could be heard. Of course, he was referring to Nashville, not Amber.
Woof! Woof!
When they entered the door, Nashville barked first. He didn’t bark much for no reason, but he always barked two or three times as a greeting upon their return, wagging his tail like a whisk.
Behind him stood Amber. From Tennessee’s perspective, except for the fact that he walked on two legs, Amber’s welcome was not much different from Nashville’s.
“You’re home?”
From the greeting instead of barking to the affectionate welcome.
On the small table of the living room sofa, a laptop and reference materials were scattered. It reminded Tennessee once again that Amber was a college student.
Lately, as Amber began to resume the duties he had previously neglected, he spent more time looking at his laptop and books.
“Eat.”
Another change was that the subject who brought food to the nest had shifted from Amber to Tennessee. Amber was busy, and Tennessee didn’t like him splitting his busy time to do housework, so it was a natural progression in a way.
“Wow, hamburgers.”
As Amber took the bag and headed to the kitchen, Nashville stretched his long legs and leaned against Amber’s back.
“I bet they’re delicious. Where is this from? Ann Jeromia? I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s a new place.”
It was a burger shop he had seen while stopping by downtown. Putting on his jacket, Tennessee ruffled his hair, which he had kept pinned up. As he took off his shirt intending to shower, Amber, who should have been in the kitchen, followed him.
“Haa… once you get busy, we won’t be able to see each other this often, right?”
Imagining himself waiting for Tennessee again in a dark house, Amber let out a sigh.
Unfortunately for Amber, Tennessee had recently started working again. With so much money, why on earth did he work? If he had that much money, Amber wouldn’t work for a single day and would stick close to Tennessee’s side.
But it wasn’t that he completely failed to understand Tennessee.
‘If I do nothing, I think too much.’
‘Do you think of the children sometimes?’
Tennessee had told him many stories. Bacha Posh, who couldn’t become a man; Bacha Bazi, who couldn’t become a woman. And,
‘No, people.’
War, famine, blood clinging to military boots.
The time he lost money after being deceived by a gang, and the story of how he had to kill someone unwillingly—that the third family he was adopted into might have actually been good people. But Tennessee’s childhood was such that he wasn’t in a position to give them a chance to prove they were good people. Such regrets.
“I love you, Tennessee.”
“I know.”
“Huu… you smell good too.”
Hugging Tennessee and resting his chin on his black hair, Amber took a deep breath.
If you have sins, I want to take them from you.
He hoped such a feeling would be conveyed.
Thinking of himself as a deadly poison, Tennessee didn’t even think of escaping it. He clearly believed he didn’t deserve to. But such things don’t exist. There are no restrictions or qualifications for individuals to pursue happiness.
Even for someone like Huston. Pursuing happiness must be the inherent right of those who exist. Especially since even Huston was struggling to live, Tennessee should not live such a withered life.
“Let’s shower together.”
“Sure.”