Blair and Emmit finally went back to Emmit’s house the next morning. They had been searching the neighbor and surrounding neighborhoods all night when Emmit suggested Bogart might have just walked back to the duplex on his own. Blair knew this was a long shot and suspected this was the only way Emmit could let himself quit searching, even if it was temporary. As she was also tired, Blair didn’t object.
-If I find Bogart, I think I’m going to make this place more dog friendly.
-How?
-I don’t know. Maybe find a copy of the famous painting where dogs are playing poker.
Blair knew the oil painting Emmit was referring to quite well. It was called “A Friend in Need” and was actually one of sixteen paintings featuring anthropomorphic dogs for a series of cigar advertisements. She also knew Emmit didn’t care and so didn’t mention it.
-Blair, if something ever happens to me, I want you to give Bogart a good home.
-You know I couldn’t keep him; my apartment doesn’t allow dogs.
-Oh yeah.
-But I’d find a good home for him.
Emmit felt bad about searching all night, knowing Blair wouldn’t leave him. Or maybe she thought Emmit wouldn’t look hard enough for the dog he originally got because of her. Of course Blair didn’t know that, nor did Emmit know she didn’t know. But Emmit sincerely cared about his missing dog and began to wonder why Bogart ran away. Maybe he felt neglected. Or forgotten. Maybe Bogart just wanted attention and could only find it by disappearing. Or maybe, and Emmit really hoped this was the case, Bogart knew something nobody else knew and felt he had a unique job to do.
Blair sat down on the couch with Emmit; both facing a TV neither wanted to turn on. The silence let her imagine what Emmit was feeling. He probably feels guilty, she thought. He doesn’t know why Bogart ran away. I never had a dog myself, so I can’t possibly know how he feels. How it feels when you turn your back and just like that: they’re gone. Didn’t even leave a message. Wait. Seph’s missing. All of a sudden Blair knew exactly how Emmit felt.
-Why didn’t he ever call, Blair wondered out loud.
-Probably a little difficult, said Emmit.
-Maybe.
-But we don’t even know he’s lost.
-Right.
-Maybe he just saw an ice cream truck.
-Nah, he doesn’t eat ice cream anymore.
-You fed him ice cream?
-I didn’t feed him anything.
-Oh, okay.
Emmit looked at his phone. 11:05? How was it that late in the morning already? Time didn’t make sense anymore. 26 hours without sleep. No. 27. Great, now basic math is difficult.
-It does seem rude though, continued Blair--still thinking about Seph.
-I don’t blame him, said Emmit--still thinking about Bogart.
-Why?
-Think about it. We’ve been running around, doing our own thing.
-What? You mean going to the pet store?
-I guess.
-I’ve never seen him do anything like this before, though. Go off by himself.
-Me neither.
-He probably had to get away because he doesn’t think we listen to him.
-Well I can’t understand him half the time anyway.
-Yeah, but it’s important to listen.
-I guess so.
Emmit looked at his phone clock again, not really expecting anything. It was 11:06.
-It’s strange, said Emmit, to think he could be anywhere in the city right now…
-Yeah.
-Just peeing in a back alley.
-What? Why would he do that?
-I don’t know. He drinks a lot.
-I know but shit; he’s not an animal.
-Except that he is.
-Whatever.
-He could be eating garbage. Or could’ve gotten hit by a car.
-That’s horrible!
-Or he could just be sniffing people’s butts in the park.
--the fuck you say?
-What? It was a joke.
Blair stood up from the couch to tower above Emmit.
-You think Seph has gone insane, she accused.
-Seph? Who the hell was talking about Seph?
-We were!
-What!
-What!
-Dammit Blair! We were talking about Bogart!
-Fucking--
-Shit.
Blair dropped back down on the couch but didn’t look at Emmit. Emmit grabbed the television remote control and held it up to the TV but didn’t click a button. He thought better of it and lowered the remote. He then thought better of that and raised to the remote only to lower it again.
Tired of nothingness, Blair stood up and walked to the front door. She waited at the door for just a second before opening it and leaving as if leaving an empty room. Emmit hunched forward. Seph had once told Emmit that for every 100 girls born in the world, there are 104 boys born. Only somewhat connected to that thought, Emmit realized he had nobody to talk to at this moment and the world seemed a lot bigger, a lot emptier. For the first time since his mom died, Emmit started to cry.
At that exact point, Blair walked back into the room without knocking, thankful that Emmit hadn’t locked the door behind her. Emmit watched the blank TV screen as intently as a falcon watching a prairie field. Blair sat back down on the couch next to him. Blair smiled but didn’t let Emmit see her.
-I’m sorry, Emmit.
-I’m sorry, too.
-It’s been a weird couple of days.
-It’s been a weird couple of months.
Blair looked at Emmit’s drying eyes, knowing he meant more than he said. She had forgotten how much heart he had, how much he cared about the things he cared about. That’s why she had originally liked him and at this point she was glad he hadn’t changed. Blair let her own eyes fill with happy memories.
Emmit turned to his side and saw Blair looking at him. Emmit wondered if he was just becoming delusional after not sleeping in over twenty-four hours or if Blair was at her most beautiful after not sleeping herself in over twenty-four hours. He somehow had scooted so close he could feel her breath. Her eyes slowly closed. Emmit stood up from the couch.
-Blair.
-What?
-We can’t be friends, I’m sorry.
Blair stood up. Why?
-I tried to kiss you, he said.
-Well you missed.
-I mean that I wanted to.
-That’s okay.
Blair took Emmit’s hand in her hand.
-Because I still love you, he said.
-That’s okay, too.
With that, Blair leaned forward and kissed Emmit. But the kiss was more than a peck and at 11:11 in the morning, Emmit decided to swing for the fences. He put his hand under her shirt and waited for a rejection. Nothing. The shirt went flying. Emmmit’s own shirt flew across the room. Then followed his belt. And then—
Two knocks at the front door.
-Emmit? Hello? You awake yet?
Lily? Oh shit. Lily will talk. Oh shit. Seph can’t know. Seph nothing, I don’t want her to know! Why is she here? O shit, I said she could come over. When? Oh shit. Where’d you throw my shirt? I don’t know! Find it! My shirt? You don’t need a shirt it’s your place! Shit.
-Emmit? Can I come in?
Emmit looked at Blair across the room. Great, he thought. The one time he didn’t want to see her topless. Lily turned the door knob and opened the door a few inches before Emmit lunged forward and front-kicked the door closed. The door slammed shut and hit Lily in the head.
-Ow!
Lily stumbled back on to the front porch. Blair gave Emmit a silent, insulted, horrified expression that combined all of the world’s worst swear words.
-Sorry! Emmit yelled. Um…who is it?
-Emmit! Yelled back Lily, it’s me! Lily!
-Oh! Sorry!
Emmit looked back into the room and saw Blair had disappeared. Confused, but trusting, Emmit fully opened the door for Lily and let her finally come in, still rubbing her head. She didn’t accept any ice for her head but she accepted all of Emmit’s apologies. As if timed on purpose, when Lily sat down on the couch, Blair—wearing a shirt—walked into the main room from the front door Lily just came through.
-Oh hey, Lily! Did you just get here?
-Yeah, were you just here?
-No. I mean, I’ve been helping look for Bogart. So kind of.
-That’s too bad you guys haven’t…wait. Blair.
-Yeah?
-Are you wearing one of Emmit’s t-shirts?
-Oh, this? No. Well, kind of. When we were going out, months ago, I made a joke about his shirts…
-Yeah, added Emmi, she’s always making jokes, you know.
-And so, continued Blair, um, he gave me this shirt.
-Did you give him one of your shirts?
-Um. Yes.
-Could you even wear one of Blair’s shirts, Emmit?
-Uh, as a, uh, a muscle shirt.
-Oh. And as a dust rag?
-What?
-There’s a shirt behind the TV.
Lily pointed straight ahead. Blair’s shirt was behind the TV. Emmit slapped his forehead. Of course. That’s where he threw that…old rag. Emmit grabbed the shirt and said he’d put it somewhere safe. Here, on the chair by the front door. Right here. By the door. Blair forced an acknowledging smile so that Emmit would just shut the hell up.
The three of them then sat down on the couch, with Lily in the middle—who never thought anything more than she has weird friends. Emmit lifted the remote control to the TV and this time flipped it on.
And that’s when the friends found Seph.
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