I wake from my nap thirty minutes later and find Ted snuggled on the bed with me—propped against my legs. How on Earth did he hop up here with his leg? "Ted!" I say, and I nearly drop Willed. "What are you doing here?" If Natalie sees him on the bed—she'll insist we turn him over to the Humane Society.
Ted whimpers and looks up.
"Do you need to use the bathroom?" I inquire, patting his back.
He whimpers again.
"I'll take that as a yes," I conclude, closing Willed. I slide off the bed and help Ted, calling, "Natalie?" She doesn't answer, so I assume she's in the garden.
Sophie greets us in the den, her tail curled in a friendly fashion.
"Hey, Soph," I say, careful not to step on her when Ted and I pass her.
Sophie doesn't move at first—she's still checking out Ted—but it isn't long before she's purring beside my ankle in the kitchen. It has a wooden table with four seats (a perfect size for Natalie and me) and granite counters. However, we don't have a dishwasher, so we have to wash dishes the old-fashioned way.
Natalie isn't in the garden but in the second den at the back of the house, which is our main den. She sits in her favorite chair beside the sliding glass door, legs propped up, and reads. She started that book yesterday and is already halfway through it. I wish I could read that fast.
"Natalie, did you not hear me?" I ask. Am I whining? "I called you."
"Oh, sorry, Daddy." Natalie shuts the book and sets it down on the coffee table. "I guess I got too involved in my book." She smiles at Ted and Sophie. "Hey, Ted and Sophie. Did you have a nice nap, Daddy?"
I nod and pat Ted. "I did, but I think Ted needs to go out." He whimpers when I say this.
"Oh, all right." Natalie stands and reaches for Ted's box, which she's set beside the coffee table. She removes a green, slip-on leash and slips it over Ted's head.
He's amazingly well-trained. Why would someone toss him out? He wants to stay here as much as I do, so that may be it, too.
I follow Natalie outside and stand on the top stair of the back steps, my hand wrapped around the railing. I notice Ted squirms a little on the leash and pulls Natalie toward me.
"No, boy," she says, gently tugging the leash. "You pee over here."
Ted still pulls her.
"Ted." Natalie narrows her eyes before dropping her angry look. She frees the leash, and Ted hobbles up the stairs to me, tail wagging furiously.
"Look at that, Daddy," Natalie says. "I believe Teddy wants you to be near him."
This is all very unusual. Dogs have always liked me, but none have been as needy as Ted. What does he see in me—an older man still grieving a friend or something else? If only dogs can speak, right?
Ted backs up and waits while Natalie helps me down the stairs. I accept the leash from her and lead him to the back patio, where I point into the bushes. Ted instantly takes off, and I'm left alone with Natalie.
"Impressive, Dad," she says. "That dog definitely likes you more than me." She notices my face. "However, that still does not mean we'll adopt him full-time."
"Please, Natalie?" I find myself begging. "I'd be a great dog parent. It's been so long since I've had one."
"Dad, you're ninety-two years old."
My cheeks flush. "So? You would only need to help me with a few things for him."
"You're using the dog as an excuse not to try Patriots Point."
Natalie gets me there.
I shut down, and she nods. "I knew it." With that, Natalie passes me and enters the house.
Does something snap in my heart? Is this guilt I feel? I have been a rotten father, haven't I? While I wait for Ted to finish his business, I think of what I'll say to Natalie when I return inside—something to tell her that I care but don't know how to say it. It's been like this since Natalie started doubling down on the therapists, which was annoying because they never helped. However, Natalie never gives up.
After Ted finishes and I escort him toward the back door, I find the strength to face Natalie again. The door opens, and she soon stands in the doorway. "Take Ted to the car, Daddy. We're going to show him Downtown North Charleston."
Did I hear her right? Natalie wants to show a dog Downtown North Charleston, even after she claims I'm using Ted as an excuse to forget the past? I smell an internal conflict as distinct as mine with Patriots Point and ask, "Really?"
Natalie claps. "Come on! Let's go to Azul. We can sit outside with Ted."
I ignore the guilt and fluttery feeling in my tummy and start down the long driveway toward the car. The image of Valley Forge's Flight Deck enters my brain, and I see it: the straight, wooden deck before the Essex-class carriers received the angled Flight Deck and the planes ready for takeoff. The Corsair was big and heavy, but Ted and I still managed to fly it. I see us flying side-by-side during our first mission, remembering we were both excited and nervous. That was the day we were thrown into the brig because we fought over Willed that night during midrats.
"Dad, are you okay?" Natalie touches my shoulder, and Ted leans against me the best he can with his cone. He's one of those dogs, huh?
"I'll be fine," I say to Natalie, smiling feebly.
She nods, picks up Ted, and carries him to the car, slipping him in the back seat.
I wait for her in the front, my cane across my lap, and feel the AC whip through my mustache like a feral zephyr. Before I know it, Natalie joins me, and we're off to Azul to show Ted what Downtown North Charleston is really like.
***
"Oh, my gosh! He's so cute!" The young woman kneels and pats Ted's back while Natalie and I wait for dinner outside Azul. The Mexican restaurant is relatively busy, but I've still seen worse. We're in the heart of Downtown North Charleston, surrounded by old-timey buildings and the narrow street.
"What's his name?" the woman asks, meeting my eyes.
"Teddy, but we call him Ted." I gently tug the leash, and Ted lies down on request.
"Poor baby," the woman says, focusing on his cone and bandaged leg. "I hope you get better soon."
"He's tough," I say. "Aren't you, Ted?"
He looks at me questionably.
The woman stands and smiles at me, saluting. "Thank you for your service, sir. It's great that you're volunteering at Patriots Point."
Wait, what? Am I—? I am! I'm still wearing my Valley Forge cap and Patriots Point volunteer shirt. Why didn't Natalie let me know earlier?
"Uh, thank you," I stutter, trying not to ask something rude.
Natalie nods and sips her sweet tea. It's a sought-after drink here in S.C., next to boiled peanuts and barbecue, but I can see why; I've never tasted such fantastic tea. I wonder where they make it.
The woman grins at Ted before nodding and strolling down the sidewalk and around the corner toward Itinerant Books, a tiny bookstore downtown. Why do I feel like Natalie's going to take me there next? More importantly, though, why am I still wearing this damn shirt?
I clutch it, and Natalie smirks (she and I share the same cheeky smile). "So, you finally noticed you still have it on?"
What is she pulling? I begin to ask, but the waiter comes with our meals and places them before us. Seeing the tamales makes my mouth water, but I wait until Natalie's settled before diving in.
While we eat, Natalie explains, "If you didn't like Patriots Point, Dad, you wouldn't still be wearing your volunteer shirt."
What if I merely forgot?
Natalie reads my mind. "Knowing you, you're sharp as a tack. You don't forget things easily."
"May we not talk about this now?" I plead, glancing down at Ted, who hungrily watches the tamale in my hand. "There is a dog here."
Natalie snorts but covers her mouth before she spits her burritos on me. "I'll never understand you, Daddy."
"A dog is like a child," I argue, petting Ted. "They don't need to hear this unless they have to. I'm not returning to Patriots Point, Natalie; I'm sorry."
"Then why are you still wearing the shirt?"
Would you stop that?
Natalie and I are quiet for the rest of our meal and don't speak again until we make our way to Itinerant afterward, as expected.
I wait on the front porch with Ted while Natalie spends time in the bookstore. She takes forever, but that's Natalie. She will come out of the store with five new books and finish all five in a week. Her favorite series is Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas. She's collected the hardback and paperback versions of those books.
While I wait and feel Teddy on my leg, I remember Ted and I's most incredible memory—when we were thrown into the brig.
The Marine guarding us pulled us out the next day, gave Ted and me a bucket of water with cloths, and pointed at one of the hatches. "The hatch could use a rub-down," he had said. His other hand rested on his gun.
Ted and I groaned but wiped the hatch down until it was spick-and-span.
The Marine carefully watched us.
Ted waited until he turned briefly, and then he playfully pushed me with his rag.
I glanced at him, but Ted whistled and pretended nothing happened. He did it again when I focused on the hatch.
Finally, both of us laughed, and Ted asked, "Why are we fighting again? You know you can't get rid of me that easily, Bill."
If only that were true.
Then, Ted said something I never thought would leave his lips; however, he whispered so the Marine wouldn't hear: "Do you know why? Because I love you."
And crash! If only that were true, too.
The memory leaves my mind when Teddy lies down and his tail frantically wags.
"He loved me, Teddy," I say, sniffing, "but I didn't love him back. I just wanted to be friends. He didn't." I guessed that Ted was queer but never thought he would openly admit it. It makes me feel even worse about shooting him down—as if I never accepted it, even though I kept his secret. What hurts the most is that I'm not queer.
Natalie exits the bookstore before another grief wave hits me, five new books in her arms. They look like a mix of Fantasy and Romance, her favorite genres.
"What'd you get this time?" I ask, urging Teddy to his feet.
"Oh, nothing that would interest you, Daddy," Natalie admits, looking away from me.
Well, damn. Natalie's giving me the cold shoulder, and I believe I know why.
"Okay, fine!" I say when we stop beside our car on the backside of Azul and across from the bookstore. "I'll give Patriots Points one more try."
I swear that Natalie jumps out of her skin. She almost shoves Ted into the backseat but catches herself before she does and gently sets him down, facing me. "Really? Really, Daddy?" It's like she's a child again.
"Just one more try," I emphasize, climbing into the car's front seat. "If you want me to continue with them, I only ask for one thing in return."
"Which is?" Natalie questions while she starts the car.
My eyes roll over to Ted, who yawns and soon falls asleep on his front paws.
I nod. "You reconsider adopting Ted full-time."