Chapter Nineteen
“This puppy thing has gotten a little out of control.”
Rachel pulls a sheet of paper that has been folded into a perfect square from her purse. “Take a look at this.” She unfolds the paper and hands it to me.
A hand-drawn picture under the words, perfect puppy meets your perfect girl.
“Smart kid,” I say.
Rachel plucks the picture from my fingers. “I think someone’s giving her instructional tips on how to emotionally blackmail her mother.”
Rachel narrows her eyes at me and I give her my I’m-totally-innocent-face.
“How many times do I have to say this, I cannot handle a dog.”
“What if I hired a trainer and someone to walk the dog twice a day?”
Rachel closes her eyes and sighs. “That would be helpful, but what about the middle of the night when she’s whining, or vomits, or needs to be let out? Jake, we’re not home enough for a dog. I’m gone from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. almost every day. Some days even longer than that because Lily and I come over here to hang out with Mom. If anyone should have a dog it’s you.”
Rachel glances toward the backyard where Lily throws a tennis ball and Jango bolts across the yard to retrieve it. “But seems like you may already have one.”
“Every kid needs a pet.”
“A goldfish would be easier.”
“You can’t snuggle a goldfish.”
“Says the guy who tried to cuddle mine when he was three years old.”
“Cleopatra looked lonely, I thought she would like it if I petted her.”
“So much trauma where pets are concerned.”
Rachel stuffs the note in her purse. “The guest room is finished. How did the garage go today?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Still have three boxes, but I’m nearly done.”
I glance around the living room. Rachel has packed up everything but three family pictures on the walls. All the knick-knacks have been removed from the furniture and the built in book case. “Has Mom said anything to you about the house looking different?”
“Only how clean it is.”
“I didn’t realize how cluttered this place was. It actually looks really good without all the stuff.”
“Which brings me to my next question,” Rachel says. “What are we going to do with this place?”
“I thought you and Lily would move in.”
“Here? You want me and Lily to live here?”
“It’s perfect.”
“Uh, not perfect. She’d have to change schools. It’s completely inconvenient for my work. No, not moving in here.”
“Well we can’t sell it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the house we grew up in.”
“Jane’s parents just sold their house.”
My heart squeezes. I glance at Rachel and she looks up from her purse at me. “Sorry,” she mumbles. “I thought you knew.”
I didn’t know and somehow the idea of Susie’s childhood home not being her family’s feels both like a kick in the chest and a release.
“It’s okay. They always wanted to move out to the desert.”
“That’s what Jane said.” Rachel lifts her purse and glances around the living room. “This place can’t sit here empty and Mom won’t be moving back in so—”
“Okay now you just sound mean.” I walk toward the back sliders.
“Not mean, just realistic. There’s a difference you know,” Rachel calls toward my back.
I say nothing. This isn’t a decision we have to make today. We haven’t even heard from the residential facility where Mom is wait-listed. There’s really no reason to discuss what to do with the house.
“Hey.” Tara wraps her arm around my waist and smiles. I brush a kiss over her lips. Lily lifts the tennis ball and throws it into the pool, and Jango runs and jumps into the deep end.
“Not quite the beach,” Tara says. “But she seems to love it.”
Jango swims to the stairs in the shallow end and climbs out. She holds onto the ball, and Rachel steps out the back door just as Jango gives a giant shake. Water bullets at Rachel and she sputters.
“Reason 347 why I don’t want a dog!”
She covers her face with her arm. Too late. She is pretty sopped with smelly dog water. Tara does her best not to laugh, but I don’t even try to pretend.
“Mommy, don’t say that,” Lily wails. Her gaze goes from Rachel to me. “Please Mommy, please, a dog is all I want for my birthday.”
Lily drops to her knees and wraps her arms around Jango’s wet neck.
“Great,” Rachel mumbles. “Now we both smell like wet dog.”
Rachel wipes water from her face and shakes her arms. “No way, Lily. Not this year.”
Lily turns her head toward me, still hanging on to Jango. “Uncle Jake, you promised.”
“You promised?” Rachel turns to me and creases her eyebrows. “You promised you’d get her a dog?”
“No, I promised I’d convince you that she should have a dog.”
“Giant fail Uncle Jake, giant fail.” Rachel turns to Lily. “Come on bean, we have to get home. There’s summer class in the morning.”
“Can’t we wait until Grandma gets up from her nap?”
“Go on and check, she might be up.” Rachel says.
Lily scoots by her and into the house.
“Plus grab a towel from the hall closet and wipe your face and arms.”
I’m way too familiar with the look Rachel shoots me when Lily goes into the house. She walks toward me, droplets of water still glistening on her forehead and cheeks. She lowers her voice to a threatening tone. “So listen, buddy, you’re getting Lily a dog because I refuse to be the evil mommy who never let this kid have a pet, but here is the deal. You are going to take this dog during the day, got it? Except for weekends. We get weekends.”
“We have a dog with a visitation schedule?” I tease.
My annoyed sister ignores me and keeps talking. “You will take and keep the dog any time we’re not around, basically any time I tell you to. You will hire a dog walker and a trainer. Got it? I am not going to rain on Lily’s parade, but you’re going to be responsible for this circus, like the guy who walks behind the elephants at the end of the parade.”
“Done.” I smile. I know a good deal when I hear one, and any deal that gets Rachel to agree to a dog for Lily is a good one, no matter how much work it involves for me.
Rachel doesn’t smile back because she knows this is a win for me. I have no problem hiring an army of dog service people to get Lily what she wants because I’ll do nearly anything to make my niece happy.
“Good to see you, Tara.”
Rachel leans closer to her. “I don’t know how you put up with this guy but it’s always good to see you.”
“Sorry about Jango,” Tara says.
“No worries.” Rachel hitches her thumb my direction. “I blame him.”
She finally shoots me a grin to let me know she’s not completely pissed at me. “I’ll see you later this week?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t forget next Saturday. Party starts at two but—”
“You need me by noon. Eleven if possible.”
“Absolutely right.”
“When can she get the dog?” I ask.
“After the party. I can’t watch twenty kids, forty adults, and a dog. You can take her to the shelter on Sunday after the party.”
“I won,” I whisper to Tara as Rachel walks away.
“I heard that,” Rachel calls from the doors. “And you didn’t win by the way. I got everything I wanted when it comes to this dog.”
I frown. This is true. She probably even got more. Rachel waves at us and heads up the stairs toward Mom’s room to see if she’s awake, and to collect Lily.
“Having fun?” I pull Tara in for a kiss.
“I always do with your family. Was it nice growing up with so much love?”
I tilt my head. Love? Was there a lot of love? I guess there was. Aside from Dad having his affairs and Mom throwing him out. Until he came back. And before it got really bad, yeah, there was a lot of love.
“Yeah,” I say, and let my gaze skim the backyard with the pool and the trees, and the clubhouse in one of the trees. “Yeah, it actually was.”
***
“Richard, did you bring the pretty lady who is going to help with Rachel?”
Mom walks down the stairs from her bedroom with Tatianna behind her. Jango waits patiently at the bottom of the stairs, her tail wagging. She’s a big fan of Mom’s and the feeling is mutual.
“Such a good doggie!” Tara hands Mom a biscuit for Jango. “Sit.”
Jango complies and Mom feeds her the biscuit.
“I just love it when she comes to visit. Don’t you?”
I nod. Mom has decided that Tara is meant to be the nanny for Rachel, which is okay, because she likes Tara and I like that she likes Tara, and that Mom likes the idea of Tara taking care of children in our family.
“Oh, did the cleaning people come again today?” She glances around the living room. Nothing has been moved today, but maybe it’s the first time she’s noticing the changes.
I grasp Mom’s arm and steer her out to the patio. It is late afternoon and a warm breeze ruffles the yard. Not too hot and not too cool, but still Mom wears a sweater.
“The yard looks so nice. I really must get some flowers potted.” I sit Mom on the rocking chair near the slider, knowing it’s always been her favorite. She looks at me and creases her eyebrows. “I know that I know you, but I’m sorry, I simply can’t place you.”
My heart cracks. I’ve heard this a few times from Mom, but these words seems to be coming more and more frequently. I can’t help but wonder how much longer before she’s forgotten all of her existence, all of her memories, all of us.
Tara squeezes my hand and then sits next to Mom. Jango lays down at Mom’s feet.
“I think Rachel would like a dog, don’t you Richard?”
I’m thankful that she’s back, even if I have to pretend to be Dad.
“I do. I think we’ll get her one for her next birthday,” I say, grateful to have something to talk to her about.
“When is that?”
“The party is next weekend.”
“Oh my, I need to get started on the cake.” She starts to stand and I reach out toward her.
“No, Mom, I mean….Mom, we’ll order one from the bakery.”
Her gaze appears perplexed, as though she’s processing the words I’m using and not quite understanding what I’m saying. Slowly she sits back down.
“Oh yes, the bakery. She likes chocolate. You know Rachel prefers chocolate to yellow cake.”
I nod. I also fight the tears burning the backs of my eyes, and the knot tied in the center of my throat.
“What does she want on it?”
“A dog.”
“Aren’t we getting her a dog?”
“Right, but the picture she wants on her cake is a dog too.”
Mom laughs, “Smart girl, making certain we remember what she wants by putting it on the top of her cake too.”
I smile. I am grasping this moment, holding onto it, because as much as I don’t want to believe it or admit it, I know that these moments are the best moments that are left and that they are slipping away like soap bubbles on a breeze. They’re rising upwards and quietly bursting, leaving nothing but the memory of their iridescence behind.
“That party should be fun,” Mom says.
Her voice is drifting, and I see that while she’s spent the afternoon upstairs in her room napping, her chin is nodding, her eyes are closing, and she is going to sleep again. Tatianna is by her side and she has a blanket she pulls over Mom.
“The fresh air is good for her.”
I stand and so does Tara.
“I will bring her inside in just a little while. She likes to nap out here. She talks about how you and your sister and your friends used to play in the pool.”
I nod. I close my eyes. I hear the birds chirping in the trees. The breeze tickles my skin. And, finally, through the melancholy, the happy memories of my childhood float through my mind.