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Ty materialized out of the dark as Bryan close the basement door.
“What happened?” She asked. She had changed into her sleeping clothes, a well-worn T-shirt and a pair of loose pajama pants. She looked comfortable and warm. Bryan took her hand as he kicked off his shoes.
“Things just took a lot longer than I thought.” He took off his jacket. “And I had to wait for my mom to quit watching TV and go to bed.”
Ty brushed the snow out of Bryan’s headfur. “But are things OK now?”
“Not really. They’re not going to be happy when they find out I’m gone.”
Ty shrugged. She tugged at Bryan’s hand. “Come here. I need to show you this.”
“What?” Bryan let her lead him upstairs. “What is it?”
Ty put her finger to her mouth. She stopped at the top of the stairs and peeked through the railing into the hallway. “Look,” she whispered, and pointed to Farly’s door.
Bryan squinted, leaning as far forward as he could. He couldn’t see was well at night as his friends could, stupid human genes. But, after a moment, he could make out a figure, a person, curled up tight against Farly’s door. Ty watched him until he was sure he understood, her tail wagging behind her.
“Really?” Bryan asked, decending back into the basement.
“Yeah,” Ty said. “He’s been there for a while. Totally asleep, too. I mean, he took his pillow and blanket and everything.
Bryan grinned. He squeezed Ty’s hand. She yawned.
“Come on,” Bryan said, pulling Ty into her room. “You need sleep.”
They sat down on Ty’s bed, and for a moment, just stayed that way. Ty pulled Bryan’s arm around her, and snuggled down against him, closing her eyes and making content little noises. Bryan kissed her on the top of her head. He looked around her room, taking everything in, something he had done so many times before. Ty hid her walls with oversized band posters, the Pelts, Ska Against Racism, from when ska could pack an arena, and a framed Dirk Hopeless and Nikki Savage poster from their ’76 tour. That one was vintage. Some of Bryan’s own notebook doodles were stuck into the gutters between posters. There were fliers of all kinds too, for local shows, mostly, but one really special one. This flier was framed as well. It was the opening of the Feldman Skatepark, back when he and Ty were in seventh grade. They didn’t know each other then, so he had heard about it from the wannabe skate punks that hung out behind the band room of Rockcrest Middle and hacked their way through half a pack of cigarettes. Not that he had stayed too long. But this poster, it was special. After the date and the occasion, the list of bands playing, was one line: “Guest of honor, Ty Unix.” She never would tell him what it meant, just that it was important. Bryan hugged Ty.
“What do you think about Furball?” Bryan asked, his voice low.
“I think he’ll be OK.” She shifted, and put her arms around Bryan’s waist.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were trying to tell me about him.”
Ty shrugged. “It’s OK. We were all dealing with a lot.”
“I guess I just didn’t want something else. I think I was still pissed at Bourbon, I didn’t want something else to be upset about. Not like they’re the same or anything…”
Ty hugged tighter, and nuzzled against Bryan’s face.
Bryan whispered, “you’ll never do that, right?”
“Which?”
“Either.”
“Never.” She placed a slow, loving lick on the side of his neck.
Bryan sighed. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I know. I don’t want to lose you, either.
They laid down on the bed and pulled the covers over themselves. Their foreheads and noses touched, and the rested their arms around each other. They were warm and contented, and for the few moments before they fell asleep, nothing mattered to them but each other.
[g]
