I shook my head no.
“Okay, let me see.” She looked at the label again. “It’s okay to give these with food, so just wrap them up in a piece of cheese. You know those American slices? The ones in the wrapper?”
“Yeah.”
“Mush it around the pill like Play-Doh. That’s what I do. He should just take it, no problem.” She handed the bottle over to me. “If he doesn’t, give me a call and I’ll talk you through it.” She winked at me, and then we locked eyes for a minute. “Don’t worry. It’ll work out.” She tapped her finger to the side of her little button nose. “I have a sense about these things.”
“Thanks,” I said, rolling the bottle between my hands. I wasn’t sure she was still talking about the pills.
“It’s nice to have sun,” she said, filling the silence as she ran my credit card. “I’m always much happier when it’s sunny.”
“I can’t picture you not happy,” I blurted out.
“Well, thank you, Savannah!” She beamed, showing off her perfect pearl teeth. She held the credit card slip up to the corner of the exam receipt and grabbed her stapler. “That’s so nice of you to say-”
We heard a rolling noise and then a slam, one of the pocket doors in the exam room being pushed into its pocket. Hard.
“If I wanted your opinion, I’d ask for it!” Alex yelled.
Mindy froze, stapler in one hand, receipt in the other. We listened to footsteps in the hallway. Peter came walking into the lobby, head slumped low, face red.
“What did you do?” I grabbed for Joe’s leash.
“We should go.”
Mindy finally clicked the stapler. She handed me the receipt. “You have a good day, now. Okay?” She forced a smile and tapped her finger on the side of her nose again. “Bye, Joey!”
Chapter Forty
“W
hat did you do?” I slammed the car door too loud and the sound of it echoed in my head. “Did you take a fucking dump in the hallway, Peter?”
“Don’t be vulgar,” Peter said.
“Vulgar?” My hands were shaking too hard to get the key in the ignition. I stopped trying, and smacked the steering wheel. “Well, did you? Because I don’t understand how going to the bathroom ends with Alex yelling at you.”
Joe wasn’t fazed by the yelling, but he was pushing at Peter to win back the front seat.
“Van, I was trying-”
“You know what? You know-shut up.” I felt bad yelling at him after he’d been trying so hard over the past two days, but he’d definitely crossed the line and I was angry. I made another attempt with the key and got it in the ignition this time. I backed out of the parking space and slammed on the brakes before I put the car in drive. Joe’s feet slid on the console and he fell. I shifted into park and put my head down on the steering wheel. “I think I need you to drive.” I pulled up the emergency brake and got out of the car. Joe jumped out behind me and followed me to the passenger’s side. I opened the back door for him, and I got in the car again, praying that Alex wasn’t sitting in the back room watching.
Peter got behind the wheel. I pressed the side of my face against the glass and rested my hand on my forehead, covering my eyes. I pulled my face away for a minute and looked at the smudge my makeup left against the window: translucent beige, textured by pores. I tried to put my face back in the makeup outline exactly.
Peter got us back to the main road, but I could tell he didn’t know which way to go. He didn’t signal, and he let a few cars pass when he could have easily turned in front of them. He drummed on the steering wheel and looked around for a minute, finally choosing to turn right.
He found his way back to the highway. Joe pushed his snout through the space between my seat and the door, and pressed his nose against my hand. Peter fiddled with the radio.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He said it’s too much.” Peter let out a sigh, heavy with disappointment, like Alex had just broken up with him. “He’s divorced.”
“I know.” I picked at the ragged cuticle on my index finger. “What did you say?”
“That the whole mess was all about Diane, and Janie, and me, and you told him you were sick to protect him from all of it. I told him that Diane’s a tornado of drama, but she doesn’t live here or anything. I mean, if you wanted, you could probably never see her again. And Jane and I will keep our distance.”
My stomach wobbled, the way it does when you put your toes to the edge of a cliff and look down. If I wanted, I could probably never see Diane again. I pictured myself spreading my arms out wide and jumping.
“I’m so sorry, Van.” He brushed his knuckles against my arm carefully. “I made it worse.”
“Fuck ’em. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, right?” I asked, trying to convince myself that it was Alex’s loss more than mine. I was failing miserably.
Peter pulled into the parking lot of the bar with the big blue anchor, and parked my car next to his. I made Joe stay in the car while I got out to get in the driver’s seat.
Peter met me around the back of the car and hugged me hard. “I’m so sorry.” He held me tight and whispered in my ear. “You know I was trying to help, right?”
I nodded and smiled, hooking my finger into his as I walked away. We stayed connected until our arms couldn’t reach and our hands fell apart.
The slam of his car door was loud and hollow. I got back in my car, threw it in drive, and peeled out of the parking lot, so I could leave before I was left.
Chapter Forty-one
W
e stopped at Wegmans to pick up the dog food Alex recommended. I left Joe in the car with the window rolled down just a little. He jumped onto the driver’s seat and watched me walk away with his wet nose pressed through the opening. I can’t believe I almost lost him too, I thought, and felt my throat tighten up. I tried to push the thought of it out of my head, while I rushed through Wegmans to the dog food aisle. I found the food Alex recommended. Newman’s Own Organic Chicken and Rice kibble. It had carrots and everything-like what we’d been eating only in dog-food form. I wondered what I was going to eat now. I wished Paul Newman made human kibble too. I couldn’t bring myself to cook just for me, but I liked cooking for us. Sometimes it was easier to take care of Joe than it was to take care of myself.
When we got home, it was just after noon. I opened the fridge and thought about making lunch, but there was nothing to eat. I fished a pickle out of its jar, wrapped the end of it in a paper towel, and went upstairs to work. I sat at my desk and slurped on the pickle while I waited for my computer to boot up. Joe put his front paws in my lap and tried to get a bite.
“You don’t like pickles. We’ve been through this.” I held it out so he could smell it. He sniffed and then blew air out of his nose like he couldn’t get the smell out fast enough. “Told you.” My voice was thin and hollow. “Told you, Joe,” I said again. I have no one else to talk to, I thought. This is it. I have no one. Alex won’t talk to me. Peter’s gone home to try to figure out how to be a husband, and I am talking to my dog.
I tried to work on the grant, but I couldn’t focus. After a couple of hours of trying to work, I gave up. I was staring more than I was writing and I needed to give it a rest.
I shut down my computer and went downstairs to scrub Joe’s blood-stains off the carpet. I looked under the sink for carpet cleaner, but all I found was Agnes’s bottle of Maker’s Mark and half a pack of scrubby sponges that I’m pretty sure were there when I moved in.
I pulled the cork out of the Maker’s Mark, and with my nose up to the bottle, I took a deep breath. My nostrils burned and my mouth watered. I poured a few fingers into a tumbler and then leaned over the sink and swirled it around, watching the golden brown waves hit the sides of the glass.
Joe smacked his water bowl with his paw. It spun a little, teetering before it hit the floor with a metallic crack. I dumped my glass in the sink and bent down to grab Joe’s bowl. He licked my face and wagged his tail, elated that I got what he was trying to tell me. I filled his water bowl and set it down, and while he lapped it up, I turned the bottle over and emptied it down the drain. It disappeared in a few big glugs. I squirted dish soap in the sink and ran the faucet until the smell disappeared and all I could smell was fake lemon.
The carpet cleaner wasn’t in the bathroom or the garage. I looked in the coat closet and saw the flannel shirt I bought Alex for Christmas on the top shelf. I took it down and ran my hand over it. It was so soft. When I bought it, I’d pictured Alex wearing it for years, until it was threadbare. I’d pictured being there with him to watch it wear over time. I imagined throwing it on to sleep in when he went away and I missed him. I wasn’t sure what to do with it. Throw it away? Donate it? Leave it in the coat closet and get upset every time I came across it? For the first time I’d really let myself dream about having a life with someone other than Peter. I hugged the shirt to my chest. I wasn’t ready to just let Alex go without a fight.
Joe got excited when he saw me grab my shoes. I sat on the couch to put them on, and he jumped up next to me and pushed his head under my arm, licking my face and whining. I didn’t have the heart to tell him he couldn’t come.
Joe rode shotgun. I opened the window a little bit for him, even though it was freezing. He pushed his nose into the crack between the window and the door frame and sniffed hard. His big fluffy tail wagged back and forth, hitting the emergency brake.
I wasn’t sure what I was going to say. I started speeches in my head. “Alex, I think you got the wrong impression of me” or “Please give me another chance. I don’t usually lie about being sick so I can throw parties at my house.”
I still didn’t have anything by the time I turned down Alex’s street. My hands started shaking when we pulled into his driveway. Maybe he’s not home, I thought. My heart and my stomach and all of my blood pulsed together like the beat of one of those huge tribal drums that drummers beat hard with the heels of their hands. If I’d been alone, I would have lost my nerve, but Joe sat in the passenger’s seat and wagged his tail expectantly, smacking it against the door, like he just knew we were about to do something exciting. He’d be thrilled to see me when I got back in the car, no matter what happened.
I left Joe on the front seat with all the windows open, and walked up to Alex’s house. Then I realized that I’d just seen him at the office a few hours ago. He’s not even home, I thought. I’ll leave the shirt on the doorstep. I’ll call and leave a message to explain it. Down at my side, I crossed and uncrossed my fingers three times like Janie and I always did for luck when we were kids.
Alex opened the door before I could ring the doorbell. Joe barked from the car. I told myself he’d just think Joe and I were running errands. We’d gone to the park. We were on our way home from PetSmart. There was no way it would be immediately obvious to him that I brought my dog along for moral support.
“Van.” I couldn’t read his face. He didn’t even say hi. Just Van.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a weak smile. “You’re here. I figured you’d still be at work.”
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he said. “Half day.”
I nodded. I’d totally forgotten it was New Year’s.
He looked at his feet and ran his hand through his hair. It fell back into his face one pale strand at a time. “I can’t do this, Van. It’s too- ”
“Alex, just-”
“Complicated. It’s too complicated.” He grabbed at his hair with both hands, holding it in a ponytail. The shorter strands slipped out and flopped in his face. He shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other. “I can’t.” He let go of his hair and reached for the door.
He’d almost closed the door completely when I blurted out, “What a load of horse shit!”
He opened the door and stared at me. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, but it’s horse shit. Everything is complicated. Paying bills, buying houses. Groceries are fucking complicated. Nothing is easy.” My voice was shaky. “Where do you get off thinking it’s going to be easy? Because let me tell you-let me tell you, it isn’t. It’s hard and it’s complicated and sometimes it really, really sucks. But sometimes it doesn’t.” I looked right in his eyes and didn’t worry about trying to read his reaction. “You’re no walk in the park either, but I think you’re worth it. And I’m worth it. But if you can’t see that- if you want to live in some fucking bubble- I can’t change that.”
He stared at me and didn’t say anything, and it felt like I was standing there for hours, even though it couldn’t have been more than a whole minute.
“Here.” I handed him the shirt. “I’m not going to stand around and wait for you to say something.” I walked back to my car, watching my feet carefully so I wouldn’t trip. I thought I heard footsteps behind me, but when I sneaked a peek over my shoulder, Alex was still in the doorway, holding the shirt and watching me like he didn’t know what had hit him.
When I got in the car, Joe tried to climb in my lap and beeped the horn with his shoulder. I wanted to crawl in a hole. I pushed Joe back over to his seat, cranked up the radio, and backed out of the driveway fast, thanking the heavens for not hitting Alex’s mailbox.
“Oh, God, Joe! ‘You’re fucking complicated. I’m fucking complicated. I’m worth it. Here’s a shirt.’ Brilliant.”
Joe was already back to his studied attempt to sniff in as much outside air as possible. I gave his tail a tug. He turned to face me and pressed his cold nose against my cheek.
When we got home I asked Joe if he wanted ice cream. His ears perked up and he ran over to the fridge. “I’ve trained you well, Grasshopper,” I said, scratching behind his ear with one hand and grabbing the carton of French vanilla with the other. Joe shuffled backward and sideways on our way to the couch, keeping his eyes on the ice cream.
I only gave Joe one spoonful for every four or five of mine so he’d still have room for his kibble. I barely even tasted the ice cream. I just spooned it into my mouth and tried as hard as I could not to replay the scene at Alex’s house in my head. It was impossible. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face. His eyes were wide, his forehead wrinkled. Was it shock? Was it disgust? Was he embarrassed for me? I was embarrassed for me. I’d put myself out there, as far out there as I could go, and he just stood there and let me walk away alone.