November, 2016

"Close that fucking door already!"

Dale quickly complied with the scathing command and pushed the front door closed with his back. Ingrid soon emerged into the hallway, bending over as she did to pick up a...puppy? When she straightened up, Dale could see that beneath her beaming grin, Ingrid was indeed cradling a puppy at her chest.

He frowned. "What'd I miss?"

He stepped out of his shoes and advanced towards the kitchen, to put the groceries away. It was Saturday morning and, knowing Ingrid's fridge would be empty by the end of the week, he'd stopped by the supermarket on his way over.

Ingrid followed him, kissing and cuddling her pet.

"I found her in the garden a couple days ago," she said, "sniffing around the food bowl because there was nothing left in it. She was limping a little, so I took her to the vet. Apparently, she's just a couple months old and had been on the street for a while. Possibly abandoned. It's miracle she's made it this far."

Dale, all done with the groceries, walked up to her and scratched the little dog between its ears. Ingrid passed it to his arms and the same brilliant smile she'd had earlier now lit up his face.

"What's her name?" Dog and Dale stared at Ingrid with his question.

She raised a quizzical eyebrow. "I was thinking Dale, just now. You two kinda look alike."

His own eyebrow rose in response. Then it lowered with the grin splitting his mouth.

"Because we're both too damn cute?" He lifted the little dog's head to be level with his own and offered his best puppy-eye rendition.

Ingrid actually laughed.

She reached up to pat and peck the puppy's forehead, which made Dale pout. Ingrid bit her lip. Dale dipped his head lower and she wrapped a hand around the back of it, leaning into the kiss. The ignored puppy began to whine and grumble, until its two humans separated and paid attention to it again.

Dale set it down, but it jumped up Ingrid's leg and when she tried to walk, it restlessly circled her feet.

"I think she loves you," Dale said.

Ingrid crouched down and got the dog on its back, to scratch its belly. "Yeah, well, too bad I can't keep her."

"Well, why not?"

"Well, for one, I don't want her wrecking the place." Ingrid stood up and went to wash her hands at the kitchen sink. "But mainly, I don't really have time for her. I just picked her up from the vet today, she'll need constant care for a while and that's not something I can provide. Not the way work is going right now."

Ingrid sat down and her puppy came to paw at her toes.

"I can look after her," Dale suggested. "I can stay here when you're not home, make sure she's fed and whatnot. I've got dogs of my own, you know. Back home."

Ingrid looked like she began to consider it.

"You can help me foster her for a while," she said in the end, "but she can't stay. I'll find her a family who can love her forever."

A stretch of silence passed between them, save for the pup panting and grunting.

"Still," Dale said, "you should give her a name."

Ingrid stared down at the excited mutt clawing its way up her knees, its tongue hanging out between its tiny fangs.

"Lassie," she blurted.

"Lassie? Seriously?"

"Yeah," Ingrid nodded. "I loved that movie as a kid. I named all our dogs Lassie, even though none of them were ever girls."

Dale smiled. A sweet, touching smile, which Ingrid couldn't bear to look at.

"Lassie it is then."

*

Even though they avoided each other for the most part, Ingrid and Oskar still had mutual acquaintances—such as Dale—and were bound to occasionally find themselves at the same party at the same time. Oblivious to the tension between them, Dale even made an effort to bring them together. Oskar and Ingrid were his two main pillars of support and was happiest when spending time with both.

Today in particular, his happiness hinged on them.

"Happy birthday, man!" Oskar greeted Dale, pulling him into a hug.

"Thanks, mate." They gave each other firm pats on the back and shook hands. "Thanks for coming."

"Hey, thanks for having me on your special day." Oskar lightly slapped the birthday boy's shoulder and held up his beer.

They clinked bottles and Dale looked around the club for someone he couldn't find.

"Have you seen Ingrid?" He checked his watch. "She said she'd be here."

Oskar's heart clenched. "I haven't, but if she said she'd be here, then she'll be here. Trust me."

Dale smiled, reassured. "You're right. Well, I guess I'd better go make my rounds. Thanks again, Oskar. Means a lot."

Oskar grinned as Dale moved on to his other guests, then turned around and got out his phone. His finger hovered above Ingrid's number.

"Scheisse," he spat through gritted teeth and made his way outside for better signal.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stood listening to his phone ring. It seemed to him that she took forever to pick up.

"Oskar?"

Time stopped when he heard her voice.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" he asked in the harshest tone he could muster.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what is your current location? Hopefully, not far from the club."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "What club?"

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

"The club where Dale is celebrating his twenty-first birthday."

She gasped and cursed away from her phone. "That's today? Fuck. What day is it, I—" She sighed, overwhelmed. Something clattered. "I'll be there," Ingrid said and her voice sounded distant. "Do me a favour and text me the address, please?"

"Will do," Oskar replied and hung up.

For minutes after he sent her the message, he stood staring at the black screen of his smartphone, as if she would materialise out of it. She never did and his absence grew long enough for Dale to come out looking for him.

"Hey, mate, what's wrong?" His hand fell heavy on Oskar's shoulder. "I thought you'd gone."

Oskar shoved his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. "Oh, no, I was just out here to take a call."

"Did something happen?"

"No, no, don't worry. Ingrid just told me to let you know something came up and she'll be late, but she'll be here."

"I figured," Dale said, "she had a hectic week at work. Overtime every day."

"Really?"

Oskar suddenly believed that she had indeed lost track of time. Then he admonished himself for doubting her. She never lied.

"Come on, let's go back inside."

Dale put an arm around Oskar and walked with him into the club.

Thoughts of Ingrid didn't occur to either of them until she actually made her appearance, in clothes too casual for a night out and a tired expression on her face. Nevertheless, she smiled and let Dale knock her off her feet with a drunken embrace.

"Hey, baby!" he drawled, eliciting shocked looks not only from Oskar, but also from Ingrid. "So glad you could make it!"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

He moved in to kiss her and she turned her face to the side, letting his lips land on her cheek. No public kissing was her rule of thumb, but Dale was too drunk to remember it.

"I'm a little late, aren't I?" she observed to Oskar.

"That," he conceded, "and he's a lightweight."

They chuckled at each other, while Dale very nearly drooled all over her. Ingrid went to sit at Oskar's table, with several of Dale's classmates and a couple of Erasmus kids who'd been on the summer school as well and remembered her from their outing in the park.

"So what do you do?" a girl with a vaguely familiar face asked her, once Ingrid had explained how work had taken up most of her time lately.

"I work at a liquor company," Ingrid said, "in the sales and marketing department. My team analyses consumer patterns and how effective our marketing efforts actually are, so that we can properly implement new projects."

"Wow," was the general response of her audience.

Ingrid laughed. "That sounds really fancy, but really, we just spend a lot of time talking about booze and how drunk people can get."

"It's The Brennan Company, isn't it?" another girl asked. "I went there for an interview the other day and I thought I saw you in a meeting room."

"Yeah, that's right. Did you get the job?"

The girl shrugged. "They haven't told me yet."

The conversation carried on like that, touching only on safe topics. Everybody wanted to know how to make it in life like Ingrid and she didn't mind dispensing advice. Oskar kept quiet throughout most of it, joining in when prompted and sinking away when nobody noticed.

All he saw was that Ingrid was so tired, she struggled to sit up and stay awake. A bouncy song came on at some point and everybody got up to dance. Oskar slid over to Ingrid, craning his neck to whisper in her ear.

"Why don't you go home?"

She yawned and rubbed her face. "It's not like I don't want to."

"I can get you out."

She lifted a corner of her mouth in a crooked smirk. "What about Dale?"

"We should probably get him out, too, before he spills his guts on the dancefloor."

"Good point."

Oskar went to announce their departure to the other guests, while Ingrid looked for Dale. She found him half-asleep at the bar.

"Come on, big guy, let's get you home."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, we probably should. Let me just get the bill."

Ingrid got it for him when he took out his wallet and peered into it as if into an abyss. The bartender looked grateful that he didn't have to wait ages for the wasted youth to get his shit together and pay up.

The small gang Dale had gathered saw him off and moved on to the next party. Ingrid, Oskar and Dale got together into an Uber to Ingrid's place, where Dale was dumped like a sack of potatoes on the living-room sofa.

"It was very nice of you to come," Oskar noted.

Ingrid glanced over her shoulder at the snoring Dale. "It was nice of you to ring me up."

"I did it for him."

"I know."

She crossed her arms over her chest, unwittingly drawing closer to Oskar and further away from Dale. Something stirred inside her, he saw it in her eyes, when she breathed in his cologne, infused now with sweat and cigarette smoke. He remembered, just then, that it used to be her favourite and realised he must have chosen to wear it because, in the back of his mind, he always knew she wouldn't miss Dale's birthday party.

That feeling she battled, whatever it was, mirrored itself in his own chest. "I miss you," he murmured, unaware he thought it aloud.

Ingrid stepped closer still. "Go," she warned him, "now."

His lips trembled, vulnerable to her proximity. Weakness overtook him and he bent over to kiss her, hands framing her head as if she was precious prey he had to keep from flying off. He poured his hungry soul into that kiss, replete with anguish and adoration. It knocked her off balance, she had to latch onto his wrists to steady herself.

He sucked the living lights out of her, leaving her begging for air in the darkness. Her forehead fell on his chest, his hands now in her hair, as she caught her breath. He told himself he had to go, but he couldn't let her go, although the longer he stayed, the longer he suffered. Over her head, he saw Dale on the sofa, remembered the many nights he had spent on that sofa and tightened his grip.

"Please, just go," Ingrid mumbled into his shirt. "You're only making it worse."

Suddenly, wordlessly, he released her and took off.

Ingrid watched him disappear, then went to shower and sleep.

At some point during the night, she felt Dale climb over her into her bed. He kissed her face, like a bored cat might have, and snuggled up to her. Lassie used to sneak under her covers like that, and lick her cheek—Ingrid scrunched her eyes shut and had to physically shake the thought, hoping Dale would get the hint, too.

He didn't.

"I adore you, Ingrid," he said in a hazy voice, "do you have any idea what that means?"

"That I'm adorable?" she retorted without second thought.

He gave a sleepy chuckle into her back. "Yeah, you're fucking adorable."

"Good boy," she murmured, reminiscent of their first night together, "now shut up and sleep. I'm tired."