The Six Rules of Maybe

of outside and motor oil and grass that he brought back in. You wanted it.
    “I’m not even in the mood for pizza,” he said.
    “Neither am I,” I said, although I didn’t care what we had. I wasn’t hungry. Maybe it was the heat, but more likely it was the moment, which filled every bit of me, even my stomach. My body was humming oddly, more awake than awake, conscious of every one of his movements. He put down the back of his truck for Zeus to get in, and Zeus leaped up.
    “Careful. Hot,” he said to me of the vinyl truck seat, and he was right. I could feel the sear of heat through my dress on my thighs and back.
    “Ouch,” I said.
    “Here.” He tossed me a towel, and then leaned over to hold it against the seat so that I could set my back against it. His face was right near mine. I could see the places where the stubble grew from his cheeks. “That’ll help,” he said.
    “Thanks.”
    “What do you want to eat? Burgers? Fish?”
    “Anything is fine.”
    “There’s that great burger place by the docks.”
    “Pirate’s Plunder,” I said.
    “Annoying treasure boxes on the napkins?”
    I nodded. “Sounds great.”
    We rode with the windows down. I felt uneasy, but it was stupid because feeling easy with him was one of the things I liked best. No one else was feeling guilty tonight. He turned on the radio, some cowboy song that he knew the words to, and he sang loudly, a show for me. He kept looking at me sideways, to make sure I was appreciating the fineness of his terrible voice.
    “So, why do you think dogs can’t see themselves in a mirror?” His voice was raised over the wind and the radio.
    “Or feel music,” I said.
    “Right. That, too.”
    “The eternal questions.”
    “And maybe they can talk, but they just choose not to.” He was grinning.
    “Messing with us.”
    “They talk to each other behind our backs,” he said.
    “So that’s what that noise was.”
    “I crack jokes to him all the time, but … no answer.”
    “Maybe it’s the jokes,” I said.
    He laughed. “Do you know this is our second meaningful conversation about dogs talking?”
    He remembered. Of course I did, but now I knew that he did too.
    We got our food, wrapped in foil, sat out on that same bench in front of the Hotel Delgado, which overlooked the marina. The water off the straits cooled the air, and finally you could take a breath thatwent all the way through you. The metal rings on the tops of the sailboats clanged against their masts, and you could hear the flap of the flag on the hotel and, on the boats—a couple of guys joking, who later appeared and called out Zeus’s name as if they were old friends. Zeus went over for his own visit and the guys waved to Hayden and then disappeared again. It reminded me that Hayden had his own life outside of us, and this thought took me by surprise even though it shouldn’t have. He had a life and experiences and a past and his own private thoughts and it could be a scary realization, that one. It meant a person had options. It meant they had chances, maybe, to leave.
    “Larry and Gavin,” he said. He leaned over and took a man bite out of that burger. Zeus was back again and sitting politely for food, his Please notice, please notice look on his face, sitting as straight as the second-grader who wants so badly to be excused for recess first.
    “Your friends,” I said.
    “Not exactly. I haven’t seen my actual friends in a couple of months. These guys sailed in from the Keys. I would bet money that Gavin’s running from the law or something. What do you think? Drugs?”
    “White collar crime. He used to be a banker,” I said. God, those fries were so good.
    “You gotta wonder about guys like that who just disappear.” He froze his burger halfway to his mouth. “Christ, I’m sorry. I can be such an idiot.”
    I didn’t know what he was talking about. If he thought he was offending me, he wasn’t. Then I realized. “Oh, you mean our father ?”
    “You sound surprised. Okay, great. You didn’t even care. Now I should apologize for apologizing.” He took another bite, chewed with appreciation.
    “It’s just, we don’t even really think about that. Him. It was a long time ago. I don’t have a single memory of him. Not one. So, nonissue, you know? I don’t exactly cry over it every morning.”
    “I thought maybe it bothered you like it does Juliet. Zeus, quit it. Back off. Those are not your business.” He leaned down, lifted our