Echo

all what had been foretold by her doctors as an abnormally short and difficult life span. She therefore, refused to fret like Jose did. See no evil … If she must put up with her amazing tail and some cryptic remarks from Echo in exchange, she was willing; outrageously, gratefully willing. She realized she wanted to live a healthy life so badly she would do anything, contend with anything. She wondered what her mom would think if she had lived. Abby ached with the thought of what she could have done for her mother’s hard and meager existence, the delight she would have taken in their good fortune. She longed to share her newfound love with her mother. She needed her. When would the pain of her loss go away? And poor Scotty; he still needed their mother’s guidance and unconditional love, a critical foundation from which all healthy children develop the courage needed to find their own pathway through an often turbulent and malevolent world.
    From out of nowhere, Mimi stood up at the side of Abby’s lounge chair, her cloudy cataract eyes unblinking, begging to be picked up. Most of the time, she scurried around like an orphan, afraid she was going to be shown the door. Funny, that’s exactly how Abby sometimes felt. Picking Mimi up, she cradled her in her arms, trying to reassure the little dog, knowing no one could. Just like no one could reassure her. Sometimes she felt if she could just keep her pain sealed up it would go away. Looking into Mimi’s tortured eyes she knew they could both only hope.
    Later that evening, as they clustered around their new 82 inch high-frequency macro digital television, she watched Jose tickling Echo, Barney and Penny on the sofa while Scotty lay on the plush carpet with Mimi. Abby, sitting in her favorite Chippendale style, wing back armchair, the one with the cabbage rose needlepoint, leafed through a vintage Stephen King novel as she tried to ignore the noise of the television. Glancing up, she saw a special announcement regarding the health of the Democratic Presidential candidate, Omar Nasir’s wife, Jane. She reportedly remained in a coma, doubtful she would survive. The news anchor moved on to another story.
    A young manatee was found floating alongside the shore at Philippe Creek. Badly injured by a boat propeller, his tail had been severed. Having little hope of survival, he was rushed to the Mote Marine Laboratory for assessment and care. Moving on to the next story, Abby lost interest. Her thoughts drifted back to the unfortunate Jane Nasir.
    When their realtor, the aging but elegant Joyce, with the ever quaffed honey blonde hair (expertly highlighted of course), toured Sarasota with them, she pointed out the mansion of many of the most famous residents of their community, including a mention of the Nasir mansion. Apparently, he did not spend much time there, as he was trying to beat his competition for his party’s nomination to run against the Muslim Brotherhood’s candidate for the office of the Presidency. At the time, Abby showed no interest in Joyce’s story. She was not a political junky like so many others. Today, the media sources in Sarasota were having a field day with the story of Mrs. Nasir’s sudden strange illness. Most residents, regardless of their political affiliations, prayed she would recover. The Nasir family was not the only local celebrities this town boasted. But they were the most important.
    Abby wondered if Omar Nasir were to win the national election, would it have any effect on the residents of Sarasota? She thought Jose should check on Peter’s progress with locating a diamond cutter. They didn’t need more money but they could use the sale of the diamonds to acquire more property on the island to further insulate them. Just in case.
    Seeing Jose try to stand and shake off his furry demons, Abby realized it was time for bed. Admonishing Scotty not to stay up too late, they said goodnight and retired to their bedroom, sometimes the best part of their day. Jose lay down on the purple patchwork comforter, flicking the gold rope trim with his fingers as Abby slipped into her modest cotton nightgown. Hearing a soft scratch at the door, he rose to let Mimi in. She ran over to the bed, her desperation to get up comical; the bed a full four feet over her head. Taking pity on her, Jose scooped her up, barely touching her as Mimi used his hands to push herself off and jump to the top. Glancing at Abby, he saw she noticed.
    “Every time I