Light, part 4

“ Excuse me, Miss?,” the beautiful boy questions me. I am catapulted from the memory I long to forget from the depths within me.  Blinking at the brightness of his face, I apologize and offer him money if he comes to the house so I can get my wallet. “I live not too far from here, I can go home and change,” he says with cheer. Again my mouth full of apologies for Barney, my dog, and myself, I take his hand, “at least let me try to get this off,” I stare at the dog shit smeared on his pants. As I lead him through the gate, giving Barney, the you- know -you -are -in -trouble stare, “I’ve got some peroxide and a Tide Stick down here”, looking down the basement stairs. I go ahead and open the door, pushing it open wide, his body still full of joy and brightness as he saunters down the stairs.  Wishing I was not living down here with no joy and brightness, as I point to the laundry tub on the right side. “Maybe I can wash them out,” I suggest, flashing again to the night in May years ago before my light was broken.