How To Train a Husband

by Sarah Gay

Healdsburg, California

Annie closed her eyes. She not only imagined what life would have been like sitting on this antique metal bench one hundred years ago, she heard the horseman whistling to his horses. The children skip in front of her, their long pastel dresses covering their fluffy white pantaloons, their caramel braids bouncing in rhythm with their step.

Annie wiggled against the thin, cool iron strands suspending her back and bottom. Was the turn of the century the best time to set the steamy plot? Healdsburg was once a Pomo Indian village named Kale. That would have been closer to two hundred years ago, before they had succumbed to foreign diseases. One hundred fifty years past? This square would have been under construction. Designed as many other town squares, it had never been called a square. It had always been known as the plaza.

She thought of the 19th century American author Albert Richardson’s description. “In the afternoon we reached Healdsburg, an agreeable village, shaded with live-oaks andmadronas…here the live oak attains perfection…the boughs of all trees are richly festooned with great bunches of mistletoe.”

Although mistletoe evoked romantic sentiments, Annie didn’t want her story to be set that far back in the past.

A girl and boy meet one Saturday night at the weekly, live band concert. They fall instantly in love.

Annie opened her eyes for a moment, just long enough to cast a glance at the focal point of the park, a desolate concrete pad in the center of the plaza. Annie closed her eyes once again and imagined the pad transform into a colorful bandstand, set high on the stone stilts of an old bell tower, where, one hundred years past, magical sounds enchanted the pheromones circulating in the air. Amore.

The girl and boy dance. But, would this be the end of their courtship? If a group of local prudish women have it their way, the evil bandstand, which brings wine, offensive music and lascivious behavior, will be demolished. A potable water fountain will replace it, representing their pure, wholesome society.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I have a seat?”

Annoyed, Annie opened her eyes, “Not at all,” she said, closing her laptop and returning it to her shoulder bag. Mr. Famous, now stirred from the excitement of a visitor, emerged from his burrow under the bench.

“What a cute little doggie,” the intruder said.

Mr. Famous’ lips curled back slightly. A low growl emanated from his gut.

“Oh, no. Sorry,” Annie began. “Yorkies can be quite precocious and yappy.”

“That’s what dogs do, right? They bark. Unless, you’re my cousin’s dog. He’s the best trained…”

Annie shot him a disapproving look, stopping his sentence.

He continued, “Have you tried obedience training for her? A good friend of mine runs a—”

“Thanks, but I took him to training last week. It didn’t work out. I’m just going to see what I can do with him on my own.” How could he not know that Mr. Famous was a boy, with that stylish silk bowtie around his neck?

Annie took a closer look at this intruder. Her lips puckered slightly as she examined his jawline and the crease of his eyebrows. He had the makings of a hero. His physique was a little on the doughy side, but his face would make any girl take a second look and swoon. His eyes were a smoky gray, lined in a soft green moss.

He chuckled softly, an open-mouthed grin spreading across his face. She had been caught again. She needed to be more discreet.

“What business are you in?” he questioned, looking down at her computer bag.

“Um, I’m self-employed. And I do some writing…for a local paper.” She wasn’t completely lying to him.

“Cool. I work from home for a tech company based in Oakland. But, I do sites on the side. If you need help, we could get together.”

“Thanks, but I—” she stopped suddenly as a familiar ring blasted from the phone resting on her lap. “Oh, that’s probably my boyfriend,” she said, grabbing the leash and rising to her feet. “I’m scheduled to meet him in a few minutes. It was good chatting with you.”

“Here. Just in case,” he said, his arm outstretched with a white business card.

She grabbed the card with a wave of her hand and a half-smile. She placed the phone against her cheek.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hey, Pumpkin. How did doggy training go?” He still called her pumpkin. She was in her mid-twenties, but he insisted that she was still his little girl.

“It was awful. They put this horrid leash high around the dogs’ necks and pull hard when the dogs do an incorrect behavior. My poor little baby. That’s another thing; they said that dogs aren’t people, so stop treating them like they are.”

“I thought they were monks. Are you sure you’re not being a little hard on the trainers?”

“Monks? More like monsters. Who would do that to a dog?”

“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt the dogs.”

“It hurt me just watching it.”

“Annalise, your mother is adamant that your dog be trained prior to you coming home for Christmas. He did a number on our house and yard when he was here last. Maybe you could find a kennel for him that week?”

“Prison? You want me to send him to prison, Dad?”

“Think about it. I’ll look into a few local kennels. Is Kenneth coming with you?”

“I didn’t think you liked Kenneth?”

“It’s not that we don’t like him. He just didn’t seem like your type, but if he’s good to you, that’s all we care about.”

“I’ll ask him. His plan was to drive up here from the city this morning, but it looks like he won’t be here until tomorrow. Something about traffic.”

“How is your latest love-making novel?”

“Not lovemaking. Romance. And need I remind you that I’m completely self sufficient, thanks to my writing?”

“Okay, Darling. Just take another look at The Old Man.”

“I do. I kiss his picture every night before bed.”

“Very funny. Love you, Pumpkin.”

“You too, Dad.”

Annie fastened and adjusted the sling around her chest and back. She leaned over to scratch Mr. Famous behind his ears.

“You ready for a break?” she said, picking him up and wrapping him gently into her chest as a mother would cradle her infant. “Life doesn’t get much better than this, Mr. Famous. I love it here.” She inhaled the sweet berry scent of autumn crush in the air.

“Sunny, friendly, happy California. Why do they insist on living in rural Wisconsin when they could live here? What keeps them there? I just don’t get it.”

Annie wound her way through the crowded walkways of the plaza. Crush, pressing/stomping of the wine grapes, brought in tourists from all over the world. Everyone wanted the I Love Lucy experience, to stomp, stomp, stomp. Crush was more than stomping. Not much stomping, in fact, mechanical pressing. So much was riding on a good harvest. It was late in the season for harvesting, the anticipated time of year when the grapes are fully ripened and ready for processing, anywhere between mid-July to mid-October.

Suddenly, Annie didn’t feel like going home. She had told Kenneth that, since he was not coming to visit until the following day, she would relax at home for the evening, take a hot bath, and dive into her next manuscript. And, now that she had found her hero, and had established her setting, verse would flow.

The October decorations had begun surfacing in the store windows surrounding the plaza. White Jack-o-lanterns and spooky morsels invited welcomed patrons. Annie and Mr. Famous always took the bait.

“You want a treat?” Annie smoothed Mr. Famous’ long silky hair as they entered the corner toy store. He always purred like a cat when she ran her fingers through his brown locks. His hair had begun changing from a golden brown to a mature gray. She had allowed his hair to grow out this past summer. Soon he would no longer be a puppy, and he should look the part of a gentleman. He was nearly a year old. She envisioned him as someday becoming a show dog, with salt and pepper fibrils flowing down his straight back to the ground— his honey, corn silk face, tail and feet lightening the cool gray to give him a soft, warm appearance.

He looked at her with his deep brown eyes, just long enough to solicit her affection before nuzzling his wet nose into her wrist, and releasing a coarse brush of his tongue against her bare forearm.

Annie placed Mr. Famous on the toy store floor. He immediately ran to the counter, and begged for a treat with his adorable whimper. The young attendant reached under her counter, and brought out a mini milk bone. Mr. Famous ate it up in three crunches. Exiting the toy store, Annie asked him, “You in the mood for sushi? I’m getting hungry.”

She turned off the main street, heading toward her favorite little sushi spot, Unagi. The master sushi chef, who she lovingly nicknamed Itamae, always saved her a place at the sushi bar. Although he never mentioned it, he must have known that she routinely smuggled Mr. Famous into the restaurant in her sling. If Mr. Famous started to wiggle and whine, she knew it was time to calm him with a piece of tuna, then inconspicuously sprint for the door.

Grasping Unagi’s custom etched, antique brass door handle always sent Annie’s mind to a jagged emerald, terraced rice field in Japan. She mused at the thought. Her life of daydreaming finally paid off, literally. Even Albert Einstein agreed when he said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge.” Was Albert not the champion of daydreaming? Wasn’t his Theory of Relativity built on the fantasy of a young boy riding his bicycle next to a soaring bolt of electricity?

“Annie! Good to see you. Come have a seat,” Itamae called from behind the sushi counter. His long white hair woven with silver streaks was pulled back into a neat man bun. “How is the most beautiful girl in Healdsburg today?”

“Oh, stop, Itamae. You’ll make me blush.”

“You’re the only one to call me Itamae. You are a good girl. You need to visit there, like we discussed.” He lifted his chin to the photo of a quiet Japanese village.

The enchanting watercolor washed Annie’s mind in colors of red. Forbidden love between a property owner’s daughter and a local fisherman. She had never visited Japan. She would have to begin arranging her travel plans. Annie shifted her weight on her stool, increasing the visibility of the patio. The view boasted a candlelit patio, trellised in ivy, and home to a manicured bonsai garden. There were two couples highly engaged with their phones, and one single man facing away from the window. The restaurant’s most gregarious waitress leaned over the table of the lone man, caressing his arm with the tips of her fingers.

“Is that—?” Annie said to herself as the man grabbed the waitress on the calf, and cocked his head to the side revealing Kenneth’s profile.

Annie stomped out the patio door.

“Traffic?”

Kenneth’s hand retracted sharply. “Annie! Whoa, I just stopped by to pick up some sushi, and then surprise you.”

Annie sat down across from him and crossed her arms. She waited a minute, staring at this man she had considered her boyfriend just moments before. She had the notion to pull on his shoulder length, thick black hair that was roughly pulled behind his ears, but decided against it. He would howl, then she would have to leave, and not be given the opportunity to tell him off.

She spoke in a low, deliberate tone. “Consider me surprised. Why, Kenneth?” Annie clenched her teeth to avoid the tears.

“I’m sorry, Annie. I need more.”

“More what, exactly?” Annie tucked her shaking hands under the sling. Mr. Famous’ heat warmed her quivers. If only the shakes were from the increasing chill in the air. “Is this because I’m old-fashioned?”

“Try archaic. Annie, you write these hypnotizing, sensual novels, and then I’m completely disregarded. No physical intimacy. It’s like I’m this little toy of yours. You’re the most beautiful thing in this town, and you strut around like you’re a blasted peacock, like no one’s good enough to touch you.”

Annie cleared her throat. “Some would call that rude and crass, but at least I can always count on you to be raw with me. Personally, I don’t care for the deceit, which I thought you were above. I was wrong,” she said, looking over at the waitress. “Bye, Kenneth.”

“It’s all fantasy,” he called behind her.

She stopped for a moment and turned around.

He continued. “I’ve read every one of your novels, and it’s not romance that you and your author friends write. It’s fantasy. No man is ever that calm, nice, independently rich, prude, patient, or compassionate, as you portray your main characters to be. You’re ruining it for every man out there, every relationship. No normal man can compete with those lies.”

Annie felt the slice of his words. She turned on the balls of her feet to leave, but stopped suddenly as the waitress passed by on her way to Kenneth. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. You’re messing it up for all of us guys.”

“I didn’t mean that. You ordered a Sunshine roll with the little lemons on top. My fave. And a Playboy roll? Fitting, considering your actions.”

Annie felt the wound in her heart reopening, but she would not allow him the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her. She sat down at his table and prepared her soy sauce, mixing it heavily with wasabi, not the green food colored horseradish, the real stuff.

“I thought you were upset. Stomping out and crying yourself to sleep.” He scrunched his eyebrows in disappointment.

“Like I haven’t heard all those things before. I’ve been writing and selling romance novels successfully for over three years now.” She picked up a piece of sushi with her chopsticks and slowly chewed the delicate creation. “Sometimes people don’t get it, and that’s okay. For the women who love my stuff, intimacy with their significant others flourishes. Their men aren’t complaining.” Annie paused to savor another piece of sushi. “Oh, that’s so good.”

“And another thing, you carry that little mutt around like he’s your baby. You have him registered as a service dog. What service does he do, exactly? He flies for free at your feet. You take him into every store and restaurant. Dogs shouldn’t be in restaurants.”

“You do realize where you are, right? We aren’t in the city. Not to knock San Francisco, it’s divine. But here, there are dog ordinances to protect the rights of the dogs. Pets are part of the family and allowed in almost every store. And Mr. Famous is more than welcome here on the patio. In fact, if I asked the waitress, she would bring me a water bowl and a treat for him.” Annie opened her mouth wide, using her left hand to cup under her chin in the likely event of an overflow. Some of the sushi rolls were almost larger than her bite, almost. As she bit down, the flavors and textures combined into a delicate explosion of perfection. The crunch of the tempura shrimp, followed by the creamy nutty velvet of the ripe avocado. Oh, then the pop of the roe and the tart burst of lemon, mixed with the sweet tang of the unagi sauce. Annie closed her eyes and moaned. “Itamae is a genius.”

“Wait. You aren’t upset with me, or hurt?”

“Well, I was for a second, yes. But why be upset when you can eat well-crafted sushi. I guess you never really did it for me. Sorry, Kenneth. You will find the girl that you’re meant to be with, promise.” Annie finished up the last piece of sushi and sat back in her chair with a sigh.

“Seriously, how do you do it?”

Annie raised her shoulders. “Do what?”

“I just offended you in every way I know how, and you sit there completely content.”

“Well, you also bought me a delicious, expensive meal, and now you have to find another girlfriend before the holidays.” Annie rose to her feet, kissed the confused man on the forehead, and began her five-minute walk home.

The sweet aroma of crush no longer swept through the air. The Russian River now wafted up the repugnant odor of unsuccessful river trolling, the decaying bait fish slapping against the muddy shoreline.

As she walked through the stale air, she congratulated herself for playing off her hurt so well. She knew better than to fall so hard for a hot guy. That wasn’t happening again.

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