Me & Jack by Danette Haworth Page A

pastor who spoke but didn’t really know my mom. Not to think of her body lying there with everyone staring at her. Her favorite flowers rested on top of her coffin. Dad had bought them. She would have liked that , everyone said. No, she wouldn’t , I wanted to yell. It means she’s dead .
    When someone dies, it’s weird because then there’s a kind of party afterward. People eat and some drink beer and then they actually tell stories and laugh. Laugh—w hile you sit there knowing that even right now, a hoist is lowering your mother into the grave. A backhoe is pushing dirt over her. I swiped at my eyes. I must have gotten some sand in them. “I’ll go with you,” I said to Dad.
    He didn’t argue.
    Jack pulled us along. Speedboats zipped out on the lake. The farther away we got from the building and paddleboats, the less populated the beach became. The arches of my feet were getting sore from pushing through the sand.
    Dad pointed to some patchy grass and a lone tree. “Let’s sit over there.”
    We caught a bit of shade. Some high schoolers were out chicken-fighting in the water, the girls on top of the guys’ shoulders tugging at each other and shrieking. Just as I leaned back to rub my foot, Jack took off.
    I leaped up and ran. “Jack!”
    He headed toward this boy and girl tossing a Frisbee. They didn’t even seem to notice him.
    â€œJack!” Behind me, Dad whistled.
    Then I saw—as if in slow motion—Jack spring up and catch the Frisbee. He trotted to me with the Frisbee in his mouth, the leash trailing behind him. But as I bent to grab it, he took off, stopped, and waited.
    The boy laughed. “That was a good catch!” The girl was smiling, too.
    I neared Jack. “C’mon, boy. Give me the Frisbee.”
    He huffed and planted his front paws in the sand, ready for takeoff. The boy and girl moved closer. Jack didn’t move at all, but his eyes darted between the three of us.
    â€œGotcha!” The girl lunged for the Frisbee.
    Jack hightailed it out of there, running right over the blanket of some adults.
    â€œDad, get him!” the girl yelled.
    By now, my own dad had joined the chase. Jack bounced between us like a pinball in a machine. His eyes shone with excitement and his ears were red. Like a deer, he leaped and darted; there was no catching him.
    Finally, their mom stood up with a sandwich. “C’mere, boy!” She waved it around. “C’mere!”
    Jack’s eyebrows lifted and crunched down as his gaze flitted over his pursuers. He took a halting step toward the lady, and she stretched her arm out with the sandwich. “Ham!” she called out to me, smiling.
    Taking another step and then another, Jack inched closer until his nose was almost touching the bread. I moved slowly in. His nose twitched, being that close to the ham. He dropped the Frisbee and I snatched the leash.
    â€œYay!” The girl threw up her arms.
    Their mom smiled at me. “Can I give him the sandwich?”
    â€œYeah, of course!”
    She glanced over at Dad and me. “Y’all boys look hot. Whyn’t you join us for some lemonade?”
    Dad said, “No, no, we don’t want to bother you. Thanks for helping us get the dog, though.”
    Waving him off, she pulled out paper cups and poured us some lemonade. “No bother a’tall.”
    Oh, man, that cold lemonade right then was the best thing I ever drank in my life.
    She invited us to sit down and eat, so before Dad could protest again, I had my butt down and my hand on a plate. The boy and girl came over, asking if I was from around here. Their accent was about as strong as their mom’s, and I was sorry to hear they were just visiting their grandma and heading back to North Carolina in a few days.
    But, for a moment, as Dad and I sat eating their ham sandwiches and tangy potato salad, we were all in one spot, talking with our mouths