Out Through the in Door by Ed Hilow Page B

reach through, and unlock the door. I tapped glass lightly. It was thin and would easily break. But as I readied myself, the door opened.
              Kylie, Joe's teenage daughter, stood there with a big smile. Amidst my surprise was annoyance. I hid behind a fake smile. I'd forgotten that she and her brother Liam were here this weekend. I walked in to hugs and dog kisses.
              It had been a hectic week and when Friday finally arrived, I expected to come home, crash on the couch and fall asleep watching TV until Joe got home, then spend the rest of the weekend being lazy. But with the kids here that wasn't going to happen. Still, I wore my adult face and pretended to be interested in what they were doing when what I wanted was to turn off my brain and ignore the world. 
              I sat on the couch watching Liam play a video game on the television. As I watched he explained the finer points of avoiding enemy soldiers, setting land mines and executing effective sniper attacks. I heard little of what he said wishing instead I could sit in silence.
              After my divorce, my life had gone from high drama to quiet resolve. Days and nights bled together with little distinction. For years, I lived in solitude. I didn't mind the quiet. I was free of my partner's lies and deceit. I was free of the illusion I had allowed to become my reality. What I did mind was defining my life by what it wasn't.  
              I longed to end my loneliness, but loathed the idea of a relationship or my dependence on it. Being in a gay marriage had been challenging enough, But because my ex-husband used love like currency and it was now an abstract thing to me.  
              When I met Joe, I wore my pain like armor – hard and impenetrable. I would never allow myself to be hurt by love again. Six months had passed, Joe moved in and still I remained resolute. I was an observer of my own life. I watched but didn't look too deeply or become too involved. My heart was a closed book. If it bothered Joe he hid it well. And, if it did, I didn't care.
                “Walter,” Kylie was yelling at the dog. She chased him through the kitchen. “Give that back.”
              The clamor shook me from my catnap  I followed the noise to Liam's room. The dog was standing on the bed with a shoe in his mouth. He caught my disapproving look and slid off the bed onto the floor belly up – his big eyes big as saucers.
              “Really?” I rolled my eyes and gave him a smirk. “Like that works.” I scratched his stomach.
              His tail twitched softly. He let go of the shoe.
              “That's the second shoes he's chewed,” Kylie groaned.
              “At least they match now,” I added. I handed it to her.
              Walter got up and pranced away, satisfied with the outcome of the game. He was a rescue from a local shelter. We had adopted him two months earlier. A mix of chocolate Lab, hound and a few more breeds for good luck, he was gentle, good-natured and stubborn. He liked to be with his people and hated being left alone – essentially an eighty-pound lap dog.
              He was a challenge. After two dryer hoses, three sweaters, a countless number of socks, two candles, earphones, a glass vase, a pair of jeans, three oven mitts, a ficus tree and the aforementioned shoes, he still hadn't figured out what bad dog meant.
              I  grabbed his leash and Kylie and I took him for a walk to the nearby park. I let him loose. He ran a few feet and turned waiting for us to join him. I sat on a bench.
              “You okay?” Kylie asked..
              “Yes,” I replied. “Why?”
              She looked at me with those blue