Men or Dogs

"What's the matter?" Dacon slurped around the milky noodles as he eyed Nessa, which made his already thick accent almost unintelligible. If Nessa hadn't acclimated to his voice after spending hours every night talking to him until she fell asleep over the phone, she'd have no idea what he was saying. 

Nessa poked at her meatball, which caused it to roll off of the heap of spaghetti and into the moat of mariana around the noodles. Someone using the drink fountain kicked the leg of her chair, jostling her. Dacon held his fork out like a switchblade to the oblivious man as he stood from his seat.

"Be respectful to the woman!" Dacon barked. The person at the soda fountain turned to stare at him, mouth agape. Nessa waved her fork consoling and he sat back down. 

"Having trouble deciding something," She confessed.

"I can help?" Dacon offered.

"It's something I've wanted for a long time, so I thought when I finally had the chance it'd be like," Nessa snapped her dark fingers. "But instead it's like," And she let her hand waver in the air and her shoulders slump.

"It can't be to marry me, we met three months ago." Dacon mused. Nessa snorted.

"And you're practically a baby."

Dacon pouted, which didn't help the impression. She slid her phone across the table and opened up her photo gallery. She scrolled to a short video of a prancing toy dog with long, fine fur and fox-like ears. The black speckles of his coat pattern faded in and out across his body unevenly. Big black eyes, one clouded with a cataract, bore into the viewer as his rat-like tail that ended in a large floof of fur swept the floor behind him with each wag. Skin hung loosely around his jaws and his tongue lolled out the side of the mouth where missing teeth had made a welcoming exit.

"That's Dan. He's already ten years old but he's tiny so he could live to eighteen." 

"Dan?" Dacon asked. 

"His fur is like a dead dandelion." Nessa's immaculate neon green nails ticked against the screen as she flicked over to the next video.

A large dog paced in circles, it's muscles sliding beneath a felt-like, rust colored coat. Patches of white trailed down from her chin to the stomach, as if she'd been lapping at a milkshake and spilled it down her front. It would have been cute if the pale fur didn't make the scar tissue that spiraled up and down her neck from months in an undersized chain choker unmissable. Her black nose swatted around a bouncy ball. Her long face said greyhound but the thick, corded muscle covering every inch below the collar bone said pitbull.

"That's Nia. Short for Titania." Nessa explained, before pausing the video. "Of course, I shouldn't name either of them yet, they're not mine." Nessa mumbled as she chewed on her knuckle. "Dogs usually only stay in the pound of a week, so if I don't pick one tonight I might not get either."

"Good, you shouldn't get either." Dacon shoveled a forkful of noodles into his mouth. "Your apartment doesn't allow dogs. You never told me but I know dogs aren't allowed because when I visit there aren't any dogs waking me up every five minutes, unlike at my apartment where everyone is undergoing sleep deprevation torture because there's a dog above, and to the left, and below, and none of them ever shut up." He mumbled around the food. 

"I bought a house." Nessa shrugged. "I moved in last week."

Dacon's brow crinkled.

"You didn't tell me? You only said you were looking."

"It was going to be a surprise, but this whole dog thing..." She sighed. "I'm going to the pound right after this and I still don't know who I want to take home." She addressed the next statement to her phone. "Plus, I don't have to tell you everything, we're not in a romantic relationship. We're just friends."

"For now! I turn eighteen in six months." Dacon swallowed. "And you should get a cat."

"Why?"

"Dogs are unclean." 

"Cats poop in your house."

Dacon rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders forward, gesturing as he explained this concept that should be obvious to the middle aged woman in front of him but wasn't.

"You're at work a lot, cats are low maintenance and you can get two to keep company with one another for cheap. Plus if you get a really fat, nice cat you can hug it and it'll purr and that's like a marshmallow pillow."

That did sound nice. Darn it, now there were three options!

"No, I want a dog." Nessa insisted. "I've always wanted a dog."

"Cats smell better."

"I'm not getting a freaking cat!" Nessa snapped. Dacon held up his hands in surrender. "I'm getting either Nia or Dan." Nessa switched between the pictures. Dacon, chastised, slurped cheesy noodles into his silent mouth. She showed Dacon the photos again. "Which one do you think fits me better?"

Dacon, who'd been in a warzone long enough to not sweat the small stuff, had already forgotten Nessa shouting at him and was studying the photographs. He swallowed with a gulp.

"The big one."

"Nia?" Nessa asked. "I'm surprised, most people who are afraid of dogs prefer them to be small like cats if they have to deal with them at all."

"I'm not afraid of dogs. They're unclean. If you have to have one, you should keep it outside in that big fenced yard your new house has." Dacon explained.

"What about when it rains or snows?"

"The house has a shed, you can put a heater in there for winter." Dacon smiled. "I can't wait, I've never seen snow before. Can we go skiing together this winter?"

"Working class people don't ski, Dii. Not around here." Nessa chuckled. "Maybe we can sled though."

"Even better."

"But I'm not keeping the dog outside. It's going to be a pet."

Dacon frowned. He spoke to his plate.

"I don't want to go into a house with a pet dog, Nessa." 

Nessa swirled her broccoli in pureed tomatoes until no green shone through. She sprinkled it with parmesan. She set down the glass shaker with a harsh clink.

"There's going to be a lot of doors closed to you here in America if you don't want to deal with dogs."

"Your door?" Dacon asked.

Nessa considered. She hadn't realized this would be one of her choices. Nia, Dan, or Dacon. She liked Dacon. She liked his goofy smile, his eager accent, his grateful attitude, and his silky black hair. She'd been looking forward to finally being able to hold him close once he was old enough since he'd confessed. Their little no-contact, no flirtation, courtship had been a welcome relief from the endless string of hook-ups and men in search of house maids she'd been dealing with on the dating market for years. 

But.

She'd been wanting a dog even longer.

"Yes."

Since it was a fast food restaurant where you paid before you ate, Dacon didn't have to wait for a check before he stormed out. His dramatic exit was sullied only a little by the junker car his cousin had gifted him dying three times in the parking lot before it finally coughed to life.

Nessa mopped up a splash of spaghetti sauce stain he'd left in his wake with a napkin. 

It wasn't Dacon she was rejecting. It was any guy that'd ask her to compromise her happiness for his comfort. She was almost thirty; she'd been putting her own needs and wants on the back burner for nearly two decades.

Hours later, her and Dan were at the pet store, picking out a handful of leashes that color coordinated with her favorite outfits.

"Can I sign up for the dog training on Saturdays?" Nessa asked as the cashier finished her order. "This is my first dog."

"Of course, here's the sheet. And, congratulations!"