#philtheo

Still, she smiled and sighed in satisfaction on that pleasantly chilly October morning, as she stood on the threshold of another pause, another brief moment of peace. She could always sense them coming, she knew exactly the conditions, the situation she needed to set up to make one happen and as such she could engineer them into her schedule as tightly and efficiently as she did everything else.

All she needed to do to get there was exactly what she did that morning, to the letter. Theo woke late, when the morning sun was already filtering in from under her curtains, a little thin and washed out with the oncoming winter sapping it, but all the same. She enjoyed the warmth of her thick, down comforter (Theo believed in being frugal in most parts of her life but never, ever skimped on her bedsheets), reading the paper in bed, filling in the crossword, recording the time she completed it in so she could proudly text it to her father and see if she’d managed to beat his time. She had last Sunday, for the first time since they’d started doing this when she was fourteen, and she was eager for another taste of victory with her morning coffee. The coffee was a ritual in itself, made with her extra special, uber expensive, strictly-saved-for-the-weekend beans, cream and two sugars, drank at the window seat of her small studio apartment as the news played in the background, as she surveyed the street below, never failing to get a sense of calm. Theo always felt part of something when she’d rest against the window and watch the people going past, all with their own senses of purpose and place, fuelling her own even though she couldn’t even see their faces.

Maybe that young man was going to fetch breakfast for his pregnant wife. Maybe that mother was on her way to pick up her daughter from dance class. Maybe this was that couples second date, so much potential and promise hanging in the air between them. Maybe that group of young women were old college friends and hadn’t seen each other in years but were spending a weekend in the city together. All these possibilities would make Theo smile.

Full and awake and content, she bathed and dressed, taking her sweet time in the shower, using her favourite shower gel, the one that smelled of full, rose skinned apples and pomegranate seeds heavy and pregnant with red, tart juice. She would wash her hair thoroughly, singing along to her music as she did so, even dancing a little, turning and swinging her hips for her imaginary audience, hitting high notes and belting without a care in the world. She then lounged in her towel for a while, reading magazines on her bed and performing a little more carefree choreography through her bedroom before drying her hair, massaging a little coconut oil into it. She took care with her clothes too, this being one of the few days she didn’t have to resolutely stick to her uniform of pantsuits and neat skirts and pressed blouses. She ended up with a long skirt in a bright, bold pattern, as bright and bold as she felt, her nana had brought it back from Barcelona for her. A crop top went on too, she’d be cold but fuck it, she looked too damn good not to show off a little, just for herself. Some sacrifices were worth making. Kicks, not her best ones but her old, worn favourites, hair in twin buns, bold lipstick and she was done.

Now for the hard part.

Theo strode over to the basket under the table in her kitchen, knowing that’s where he’d be, even though she had been awake for hours.

She hunkered down, grinning brightly, “What kind of guard dog are you, lazy bones?”

Titus gave a whine in response, hefting one huge, tawny paw over his eyes, like he thought that would save him from being woken up. Like he suddenly became invisible to her if he did that.

“Nice try,” Theo snorted, reaching in and ruffling his thick mane of fur, “Up, up, up! Time for walks!”

That magic word had him. He made his resentment clear through huffs and whimpers but he eased himself out of his basket all the same, tail managing to wag for her, eyes managing to brighten as he hopped up, forepaws on her knee, for his good morning hug.

Titus had originally been intended as a guard dog, a house warming present from her father, given with the express promise that he would keep a young lady living in downtown New York all on her lonesome the protection and security she desperately needed. It ended up being a bit of a running joke in their family. Titus was big, there was no denying that, he was actually bigger than most other German Shepherds, but he also happened to be the world’s biggest wuss, preferring to use his huge bulk to hug rather than for any safekeeping purpose. He jumped when leaves blew past him on the sidewalk and taxis honked as they passed by. He hid behind Theo’s legs if a cat happened to appear, bolting from an alleyway as they walked past. He would whine and fuss mercilessly if his lady happened to leave his sight for more than five seconds, even if she’d just ducked into a store for an ice cream which she would, of course, give him the cone from. All in all, he didn’t really fulfil the role Aaron had had in mind when he gave him to his daughter.

But Theo adored him all the same. And he adored her right back.

She hummed brightly to herself as she tied his usual red bandana around his neck and slipped him into the harness she’d got for him back when he was still a puppy and way too small to fit in it (“He needs to feel big like the other dogs, dad!”). She put on her headphones, show tunes turned up, and together, both full of optimism and fortitude that only comes with a good morning well spent, they set out for Central Park.

 Theo had a smile on her face a mile wide as she bounced on her heels along the path, head swaying in time with the music in her ears, making her buns waggle with perfect timing. Titus ploughed on ahead of her, as if clearing the path and making sure no threats lay ahead of his mistress for him to jump at and get scared by and need cuddles. A blanket of leaves that looked as if they’d been moulded and shaped from copper itself littered the path ahead of them, rustling under four paws and two sneakers as if in quiet conversation. Squirrels skittered from branch to branch just over their heads, ink drop eyes glittering curiously, and birds broke the constant clear blue of the sky with their arrowhead silhouettes, probably flying off to somewhere much warmer than New York city in the middle of autumn. The season didn’t come without its gifts, though; there were bright lavender and yellow bursts of crocuses along the path. Theo saw them and gave a slightly melancholy smile. They made her think of her mother, having been her favourite flowers, but it was a good memory. Not a twist of a knife, just a dull ache from doing work she was happy to do. She made a mental note to buy some from a florist, half to go on her mama’s grave and the rest to fill a glass vase on her kitchen table. Knowing they would see the same colours, smell the same delicate scents, brought Theo comfort, as if her mama had bought the flowers for her rather than the other way around. It was kind of a hangover from something her father had told her when she was younger, just after she’d died. He’d told her that Mama sent the crocuses up in Central Park just for Theo, so she’d know she wasn’t really gone and was always watching over her baby girl. At twelve, Theo had been a little too old to believe that story even then, but she appreciated the effort and would always associate those proud, regal blooms, like tiny paper crowns made by a careful, loving, attentive hand, with her mama.

Titus took her a little off the main track through the park, he liked the thickets best, they came with the opportunity to stick his long snout into a bush or too and find some interesting smells or a nice smooth stone he could present to his mistress as a gift. Theo whistled pleasantly to herself as some good old fashioned soul music kicked in through her headphones, gearing herself up to get lost in Aretha Franklin’s feather-boa-rattling voice.

That was what distracted her.

She didn’t even hear Titus’ yelp as the blur of black and white and grey barrelled into him and knocked him off his paws completely, sending him sprawling in the dirt at the side of the path. Which, of course, as Theo was holding the end of his leash, she got to go sprawling right along with him.

“What the-?” she managed to exclaim just before the surprise of no longer being vertical and suddenly rolling (thankfully harmlessly and painlessly) onto damp and unpleasant grass took her breath away.

It dislodged her earbuds too so she managed to hear her Titus whining and wailing in distress, as well as a new, much more fierce, much more energetic yapping that belonged to the black and white and grey blur, still a blur as whatever it was when it wasn’t going five hundred miles an hour zig zagged this way and that over the poor, downed Titus.

“Hey! Get off him!” Theo demanded, not able to do anything more than make her threat before her lap was taken up with nearly 88 pounds of dog as Titus hid in her arms.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” another new sound cut over the pandemonium, “Othello’s only little, he’s not got the hang of making friends yet. Othello, down boy!”

A lot of thoughts were running through Theo’s mind at that point, very quickly, but the one that got to her mouth was this.

“What kind of name is Othello?”

“Huh?” the owner of the voice, a nearly impossibly tall young man, about her age and with face covered in more freckles than Theo thought could exist on a human person, blinked in confusion.

“Uh, sorry,” Theo felt her face flush, she hadn’t wanted to sound so incredulous. Though, really, she had every right to be, seeing as she was sat in the mud thanks to this guy.

The man caught the blur in both arms, hauling it up and suddenly, it manifested as a very small, very hairy dog, panting, scrabbling his paws in the air and looking very disgruntled at having his game interrupted.

“I really am sorry about that,” the guy said again, looking embarrassed as he held out one hand to help Theo up, “He slipped his collar and got away from me back there, I had to chase him through the whole park…”

“I’m not surprised,” Theo said breathlessly, accepting the offer of help after she managed to convince Titus to get off, “I’m not sure they even make dog collars that small…”

Fortunately, he laughed at that, “Yeah, he’s kind of a runt. Fast though. Big personality.”

“Yeah,” Theo brushed down her skirt, “Yeah, I got a taste of that personality…”

The kid flushed red, biting his lip guiltily, “I am sorry. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Nah,” Theo shook her head, recentering her braids, “Titus might have some emotional damage, though.”

He winced and addressed the cowering German Shepherd behind her legs, “Sorry, buddy. He doesn’t mean any harm, I swear, he’s just got a lot of energy.”

That much was obvious, Othello- if that really was the thing’s name- was squirming and wriggling so furiously in the guy’s arms, Theo was genuinely impressed he was holding on so effortlessly.

“He’s not that dented up, really,” Theo said quickly, not wanting to come off like she was criticising, “He’s just a wuss. A big old furry wuss.”

Titus whined, as if in indignance, though he soured his argument a little by diving back behind Theo’s legs when Othello gave a growl.

“Behave!” he snapped, patting his dog’s head, “Stop being a meanie!”

“Maybe he’s mad cos some doofus named him Othello,” Theo muttered, a little louder than she’d intended. She cursed herself, god damn her big mouth…

But the guy only laughed again, a nice sound, one he clearly used often.

“I’m a literary nerd, what can I say?” he grinned hugely, “I’m hoping he grows into it.”

Theo blushed a little, smiling back, “Did you just get him?”

“Is it that obvious?” he chuckled, “Yeah, I got him from the pound the other week, we’re still, ah…establishing who’s the alpha in the situation…”

“Well…best of luck with it,” Theo smiled, wanting to leave this particular exchange before she embarrassed herself any further, or before Othello escaped his owner’s arms and Titus had a heart attack.

“Hey, um, do you…do you have somewhere to be?” the guy blinked, “I mean, the least I owe you after that mess is a coffee?”

“A…oh…” Theo’s blush was back with a vengeance.

“If that’s okay, I mean?” he smiled, that same hundred kilowatts smile that outshone even this harsh, autumn sun, “Although, god, what am I even doing, I haven’t even asked your name…”

“Theo Burr,” she interrupted him gently, “And a coffee sounds great.”

“Theo,” he repeated, eyes brightening, finally letting Othello slip from his arms, letting him land in a heap at his feet where he thankfully stayed.