MADELEINE
After a fitful night of sleep and hours upon hours of fixating on what will or won’t happen with Adam, I decide to play a game. In the morning, I wake up and pretend like Adam was never a part of my life. I walk Mouse around the neighborhood and then come home and prepare myself a healthy breakfast. I shower and get ready for work, grabbing my most flattering dress out of the closet. My hair curls like it’s never curled before, and I apply my makeup with the gentle hand of someone who knows what they’re doing. I feel good. Thoughts about Adam and Olivia hover in the periphery of my thoughts, but I refuse to let them get any closer than that.
When I stroll into Hamilton Brew to treat myself to a well-deserved latte, I appreciate the smile from the man behind me in line. It feels good to know that in a world where Adam never existed, I can still garner attention from the opposite sex. He even asks me what I would like to order. Vanilla latte, I say, and he nods to the barista. Two of those then. And even though I insist on paying, he insists otherwise.
I walk to the office with a little pep in my step, and it doesn’t even bother me when Lori corners me around lunchtime with news of Adam.
“You and Adam Foxe are dating, right?”
That’s the first thing she asks me, and I’m hesitant to answer. I can’t leave though—my Lean Cuisine pizza is nuking in the microwave and there are only 45 seconds left on the clock, which means I’m 45 seconds from pizza heaven.
“It’s nothing serious.” I shrug.
She hums. “Oh, okay. It’s just that I saw him last night at dinner with a stunning blonde.”
Ice fills my veins.
“Why would I care?” I laugh, staring at the ticking timer on the microwave, hurrying it along with all my might. Cook, pepperonis, COOK.
“Well I would care if my boyfriend was seated with another woman at the lovers’ table at Bellissimo. I was there with a few girlfriends for book club. We read A Dog’s Purpose this month—very touching. As a dog lover myself, I could not put it down.”
I hum, bored.
“And we were halfway through our discussion questions when in walked Adam and his date. I swear the whole restaurant was abuzz with gossip right away. Who is she? Where did she get that dress? It was beautiful, definitely high-end designer, not like what you wear around here.”
I stab my thumb at the button for the microwave door and it swings open so fast that Lori has to jump back.
“Thanks for the information, but I need to get back to work.”
She puts her hand on my arm to stop me on my way out of the kitchen. “They seemed really cozy. She had her hand on his arm through most of dinner. I just thought that if I were you, I’d want to know.”
I laugh sarcastically. “No, Lori, you wanted to rub my nose in the fact that Adam was on a date with a pretty blonde.”
She feigns indignation. “Why, I—that’s absolutely not the case!”
I shrug and walk out of the kitchen, proud of myself for finally standing up to her. She can pretend I’m wrong, just like I can pretend Adam taking Olivia out to dinner doesn’t enrage me, but we both know the truth.
…
Later that night, Adam calls me while I’m making dinner. I’m hovering near the stove, heating up spaghetti sauce when his name lights up my iPhone’s screen. I stare down at it on the counter. Technically, I can’t answer because I have spaghetti sauce on my fingers, but I’m not a coward. I wash my hands and reach for the phone before it goes to voicemail. I sound out of breath when I say hello.
“Madeleine, hey.”
“Hi.”
“How are you? Did you have a good day?”
We’ve never done this. In the last few weeks, we weren’t phone-call-at-the-end-of-the-day type people; we didn’t have to be because more often than not, we were together. Now, I guess things have changed.
“I’m good,” I reply, trying to sound chipper. “Work was good.” Good, good—apparently I don’t know any other adjective to describe my life. “And yours?”
“Oh, yeah. Same. Good.”
We both laugh because this is painful. This is blind-date levels of pain.
I want to ask him about his dinner last night, but I don’t want him to think I’m snooping on him. Worse, I decide it’s his responsibility to bring up the subject, not mine…but he never does. Over our short phone conversation, we don’t discuss Olivia. We don’t discuss us.
I want to go back to playing the game I invented earlier.
“Oh, my pasta is finished. I better go.”
In truth, it’s been done for five minutes, sitting in a colander in the sink, sad and droopy.
“Okay, yeah. You’ll be at the training class tomorrow though, right?”
The training class, of course. I’d forgotten about it, and now that he brings it up, I’d love nothing more than to skip it, but Mouse doesn’t deserve that. I don’t want to be the reason that Mouse becomes a dog school dropout, turns to a life of doggy crime, and ultimately ends up in the pound for smuggling milk bones across the border.
“Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t miss it.”
I end the call and then I eat my sad dinner in my sad apartment. Turns out, I have thought of another adjective to describe my life: S-A-D.
…
I’m showing Mr. Boggs a house the next day when Daisy finally returns my phone call. I excuse myself and walk outside to answer.
“Daisy! Finally.”
“Sorry, I was with a patient. What’s going on? Why did you tell my receptionist 9-1-1?”
“Because I need you to come with me to Mouse’s training class later.”
“That’s your emergency? You understand what those numbers symbolize, right?”
“Yes. This is an emergency,” I insist. “Can you come?”
“Sorry Madeleine, I have a doctor’s appointment.”
I panic. “Are you serious? Reschedule—or better yet, just diagnose yourself.”
She laughs. “Yeah, that’s not really how it works. I appreciate the creativity though.”
I walk another few steps away from the house and hold my hand over the receiver so my voice doesn’t carry. “Daisy, I can’t do this alone. I can’t face him.”
“Yes, you can. You’re making this Olivia thing into a bigger deal than it is. Don’t let Lori get into your head.”
“I’m not making it a bigger deal, it IS a big deal! They were engaged for five years, Madeleine. They’re probably soul mates, and tonight after class, he’s going to pull me aside and let me down gently. I can’t do it. I don’t want Mouse to see me like that. My emotions will betray me.”
“Yeah, God forbid you let him know how you feel.”
“Yes, God forbid, Daisy! How pathetic will it look when he tries to break up with me and I start crying. I mean, I’m not even sure he owes me a breakup! Like you said, we weren’t official or anything.”
She sighs. “Yes, you were.”
There’s another voice on her end of the line—a medical assistant prompting Daisy about an appointment—and she lets me know she has to go.
I want to hate her for abandoning me in my time of need, but I can’t. She’s right. I’m a grown woman and I can face Adam with my head held high, and I do just that, right up until I’m on my way to the YMCA with Mouse and get caught in a torrential downpour. All day, it was a cloudless, blue sky, yet somehow as I pull my car into a parking space, it has suddenly morphed into monsoon season. I stay inside, trying to wait out the worst of it, but minutes tick by and I’ll be late if I don’t make a run for it soon. Other attendees pull into the parking lot with umbrellas and galoshes, rain jackets that reach from their head to their feet. I rummage around my car and find the remnants of a plastic bag that just barely covers my head.
Unfortunately, it’ll have to do.
Mouse and I dash for the front door. He diverts his path to splash in every puddle he can find, but I beeline right for the entrance. Even still, it’s no use. When I pull the door open and walk inside, I’m soaked from head to toe. My once-perfect curls hang sad and limp. My jeans stick to my thighs, and my shoes squeak with every step.
Adam is already inside the gym with most of the other attendees. Everyone’s unpeeling rain jackets and drying off as best they can. Mouse shakes and throws water clear across the room.
“Here, this’ll help a little,” Adam says, handing me a small gym towel he must have found in one of the supply closets. I use it to pat myself down and I go from sopping to just mostly sopping. Then Adam takes the towel back from me and uses it for Mouse.
“Thanks. I didn’t think to pack my rain gear.”
He smiles and glances up. We lock gazes, and those pale green eyes make my stomach flip. I haven’t seen him in two days. It’s nothing—hardly a blip—and yet the moment feels charged. I blink and look away first.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he admits, standing.
If he can be honest, I can too.
“I almost didn’t.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I guess the last two days have been strange to say the least.”
“Oh?” I sound casual, aloof.
“Adam,” one of the other attendees calls. “Will we be starting on time or are we going to wait for the last few stragglers?”
Of course, puppy training class—the reason we’re both here, the reason a dozen people are staring at us, wondering why Adam hasn’t started teaching yet.
He looks back at me with furrowed brows, torn. “You’ll stay after class, won’t you?”
I nod. Of course I’ll stay.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to keep that promise.
The first half of class proceeds as normal. Adam increases the difficulty of the commands and we work with our dogs—training, clicking, and treating each time they perform well. Mouse is getting the hang of sit, down, stay, and I’m mastering avoid, smile, nod whenever Adam comes around to check on me. I can tell he wants to pull me aside and chat, but there’s no reason to do it in the middle of class. If he’s going to tell me he and Olivia are back together, or that she’s staying in Texas, or that he’s going to propose to her again with an even bigger and better diamond, I want it to be in private, preferably in a room shrouded in shadows so he can’t see me crumble before his very eyes.
“He’s doing really well,” Adam says, commending Mouse after a particularly long stretch of staying.
I bend down and pat Mouse’s head when the gymnasium doors fling open and draw the attention of everyone in the room. A beautiful blonde steps in wearing a chic white blouse and black slacks. Both are impeccably fitted, probably tailored just for her bony little body. Whatever rain swept in while I was driving must have ended before she stepped outside because every single strand of short blonde hair is styled and in place. Her lips are covered in a bright shade of red and her heels look to be more expensive than my sofa. Around her wrist is a delicate brown leather leash attached to a medium-sized golden retriever. In short, she is the most put-together person I’ve ever seen in real life.
Olivia.
Of course she’s Olivia, and the adorable well-behaved dog at her feet is Molly.
Adam’s old family—Adam’s beautiful, old family.
She beelines straight for us and my brain shouts at me to do something. Run. Flee while you can! I scan both exits, wondering if I can reach them before she reaches us, but it’s too late. I catch a whiff of a light rose-scented perfume before I’ve even taken one step.
“Sorry I’m late. That rain wouldn’t let up.”
“What are you doing here?” he asks. “Did my mom tell you I’d be here?”
I have my eyes trained on the ground, too petrified to glance up and take in her glory from this close up. I bet she looks like a runway model, slicing her way down the catwalk.
“She mentioned it this morning, so I thought I’d bring Molly by for a refresher.”
She sounds so confident with him, and I suppose she would. How many dinners have they shared? Vacations? Lazy Sunday mornings?
“Oh! Who is this?” someone asks behind me.
The other attendees are starting to gather around, curious about the goddess who just interrupted our class.
Olivia laughs and it sounds like a hundred baby angels. “Oh, I’m Olivia, Adam’s fiancée.”
“Ex!”
All eyes whip to me and I finally, finally glance up to Olivia. She’s glaring at me with narrowed eyes, and I realize I’ve spoken out of turn. They were having a private conversation, and I was supposed to be nonexistent, a speck of dust.
“…ex-cuuuuse me,” I correct. “Mouse just informed me that he needs to use the bathroom.”
That’s how I cover up my ridiculous faux pas—by using my poor, innocent dog as a scapegoat—but Mouse isn’t meant to be a scapegoat, isn’t trained enough for that sort of responsibility. I try to get him to follow after me so we can exit the gymnasium and continue on until we hit the Mexican border, but his paws are locked in place. His attention is singularly focused on Molly.
“He’s really good at stay,” I laugh, trying to tug him again. “Quit showing off, Mouse, c’mon.”
He doesn’t budge.
“I think he likes her,” Olivia says, charming the pants off of everyone in the room.
Mouse whines excitedly and then offers a play bow, trying to gain Molly’s attention, but she’s playing hard to get, sitting politely at Olivia’s feet.
“Madeleine, can I talk to you for a second?”
Adam is trying to draw me to the side of the room by the crook of my elbow, but like Mouse, I don’t budge. My fight-or-flight instincts are kicking in, and I want to go—now.
I tug Mouse and finally, he listens.
“I’m just going to take him outside,” I say, not looking at Adam or Olivia.
I want no part of this awkward exchange.
“Is that the friend you told me about?” I hear Olivia ask as I walk away.
I don’t hear Adam’s reply, and maybe that’s for the best. As it is, I can fill in his reply with whatever I want.
Yes that’s the friend I told you about, the one I’m madly in love with!
Ha.
When I walk out of the YMCA, I see that the rain has started again. Of course it has. It stops for women like Olivia, but for me, there’s a little raincloud perched right overhead. I don’t even bother rushing to my car. What’s the point? My clothes are still damp from earlier.
Mouse tries to claw his way back inside the entire way to the car, and then his whining kicks up another notch when I open the passenger door for him. He doesn’t want to leave, not while the new love of his life is back in that gymnasium.
“Believe me, it’s just puppy love,” I insist. “You’ll get over it.”
We both will.
I feel like a coward for leaving before class is over. Adam asked me to stay so we could talk, but how exactly would we do that with Olivia lingering nearby? I didn’t expect her to still be in Texas. If all she wanted was some closure and an official goodbye, she wouldn’t have brought Molly to the training class; she’d be halfway back to Chicago by now. And if she was still confident enough to show up uninvited with their dog, that means she still sees daylight, and whatever is going on between them is more complicated than I thought.
Complicated.
There’s my favorite word again.
My car starts after the second attempt (thank God) and Mouse whines. I feel like I have to hold it together for the two of us. If I start crying, there’s no going back. Rain beats down on my windshield as I drive the few minutes back to my apartment. I want to give in to the feelings of self-pity and sadness creeping in around the edges, but I won’t do it. My life might seem just as complicated today as it was a few weeks ago, but things have changed.
I sold a house.
I paid my overdue rent.
Mr. Hall isn’t following me around, hounding me for money.
I have an appointment on Monday at the mechanic.
Though it feels like all is lost on this short, sad drive back home, that’s not the case.
The storm kicks up another notch by the time I pull into my apartment complex, and Mouse and I make a run for it just as a gust of wind nearly bulldozes me back. I fiddle with my keys quickly, push open the flimsy door, and usher Mouse inside as fast as possible. He shakes, sending water everywhere. Normally, I would care. Right now, I just want a shower. A hot, uncomplicated shower.
I take my time, letting the water turn from warm to scalding before I step under the stream. It doesn’t solve all of my problems, but it helps. My lavender-scented body wash has a baptismal effect on me. In the ten minutes I lather myself up and rinse off, I decide things are going to be okay no matter what. If Adam and Olivia are back together and about to enter marital bliss, I can take it.
It’s not as if he and I made a commitment to one another. We spent a few weeks having fun. Admittedly, I let myself fantasize about more, especially lately. I didn’t want to indulge myself at the time, but it almost felt like a sign that he bought the white farmhouse. It’s my dream house, and he bought it. Sure, I’m not crazy enough to move in with a guy after only a few weeks of knowing him, but eventually…I imagined us living there together, Adam, Mouse, and me.
The rain seems to grow even louder as I finish washing off. Thunder rumbles as if it’s inside my apartment, a sign that the storm isn’t going to let up any time soon, which is just as well. Rain suits my current mood just fine.
I step out and dry off, waiting for Mouse to rush in and lick the water droplets from my shins. He doesn’t come, which probably means he’s still pouting about having to leave training class without his beloved.
“Mouse, believe me, she would’ve just broken your heart! I’ll let you have some chicken with your dinner. How’s that?”
There’s no jingle of dog tags, no sign that he’s listening to me at all.
Stubborn dog.
I wrap a towel around myself and step out of the bathroom.
My front door is wide open, forced against the wall by the heavy wind and rain. I rush forward and close it, nearly wiping out on the puddle of water in the entryway. I must not have locked it before my shower, and it doesn’t take much to push open the old door. Yet another thing I need to bring to Mr. Hall’s attention now that I’m a paying tenant again.
I hurry back to the bathroom to retrieve a towel to wipe up the mess, and that’s when it hits me.
Oh god, where’s Mouse?
I turn and check the apartment. He’s not in kitchen. He’s not in my bedroom, or the bathroom. The apartment is tiny, and it takes me all of five seconds to conclude that Mouse is gone. He ran through the open door. He bolted while I was in the shower and now he’s out there in the middle of a thunderstorm.
I yank open my front door and shout his name.
“MOUSE! MOUSE! Come here boy!”
I run to the end of the walkway and shout his name again, but he’s nowhere in sight. There’s no telling how long the door was open. He could have a ten or fifteen-minute head start on me. I rush back into my apartment and yank on the first clothes my hands touch. My keys are in my hand and I’m running barefoot to my car.
This isn’t happening.
I refuse to acknowledge that Mouse has run away.
He’s never done anything like this before. My front door has accidently flung open in the past and he’s never cared. He’s just a puppy. He was probably terrified when the door slammed open, and he bolted.
I force my key into the ignition and crank my car to life. It resists, but starts nonetheless.
First, I circle through the apartment complex’s parking lot. I roll down my window and shout his name, ignoring the pellets of water hitting my face and soaking the inside of my car.
“MOUSE!”
Nothing, just more rain.
“MOUSE! C’MERE BOY!”
He’s not here.