Chapter Eighteen
Allie
I’ll be the first to admit that camping trip hadn’t gone the way I had expected. I was almost glad not to see Curtis for a few days; I had so much to think about.
I can’t say I had gone into his tent expecting to make love to him—I get really startled by loud noises, especially at night and when I’m alone. But once it started to happen, there was no stopping it. The fact that we were out in the woods late at night just added to the dream-like feel of the whole scene. It never ceases to amaze me, that strange magic by which friends become lovers and humans become animals together, moaning in ecstasy.
And then the next morning had been confusing as all-get-out. I thought after what we had just done, Curtis might have something more to say to me than just, “We oughtta get packing.” I had hoped he might reaffirm that we were together now or sit next to me for more than a few minutes. He seemed nervous and antsy, like he didn’t particularly want to be there. Like he was itching to leave the park, and me, as soon as he could humanly manage it.
I don’t guess I could blame him. He probably hadn’t driven out here expecting to make love to a woman and to be more or less ambushed into a relationship. I wondered if he was having second thoughts now, if he was wishing he could take back what we had done the night before.
So we drove home together through the gray light of morning.
After a quick shower, I ran by the clinic and checked the phone to see if we had any voicemails. Only one, from a guy wanting to know where he could buy flea powder for his guineas. The place looked about how I had left it; I guess it was me who felt different. It was going to be weird going back to work next week after the events of this weekend. The first three months I’d been here, it felt like nothing was happening, and then, in a matter of hours, there had been this seismic disruption.
Curtis had happened so suddenly that I still hadn’t thought through the implications. I’d always pictured myself marrying some university professor who wore tweed suits and relaxed on the weekends by sitting out by the pool sipping margaritas and reading Dostoevsky. Curtis was about as far from that as I was likely to get. It was almost as if I was rebelling against what I thought was my destiny.
When Lindsay and I went out the next day to get our hair done, we talked about it.
“I guess I’m just still not used to the idea of our being together long-term,” I told her. “I mean, can you really picture it, me and him? Celebrating our thirtieth wedding anniversary?”
“I haven’t met him yet, so I couldn’t tell ya,” said Lindsay. “But sometimes love works in mysterious ways. You don’t always fall for the guy you were expecting to. My mom was a librarian who married a chemistry professor. They were the two most opposite people you could imagine, and yet somehow they made it work.”
“I guess it just makes me nervous,” I said sadly. “I know I shouldn’t be upset that he couldn’t name any major character in Lord of the Rings. But that’s not even, like, that nerdy. Lord of the Rings is mainstream. If we can’t bond over that, how are we ever going to bond over something more esoteric?”
“Yeah, I get you,” said Lindsay. “You’re worried that you’ll get married and then one day, I don’t know, ten years from now you’ll be sitting there at breakfast and you’ll mention Jane Austen and he won’t know who that is.”
“Yes! How can you make it to adulthood without reading Jane Austen?”
“Honey, if you’re looking for a man who likes Austen, you might want to think about emigrating. They say over forty percent of Americans haven’t picked up a book in the past year.”
“God! Kill me,” I muttered, putting a finger to my head and pretending to blow my brains out. “And I’m sure the stats are even worse for guys. Anyway, right now, it almost doesn’t matter because we’re held together by this intense, physical bond. But what happens one day when that wears off? And it will, eventually. Physical intimacy isn’t enough to sustain a lifelong marriage.”
“I still think you’re thinking too hard about this,” said Lindsay. “You’ve been on exactly one date and you’re already worrying about what’ll happen ten or twenty years down the road when the shine wears off. Maybe try living in the moment and taking things as they come.”
“That’s terrible advice,” I moaned. “That’s the kind of thing women say to themselves right before they get drunk and run away to Vegas to get married by an Elvis impersonator.”
“I’m not saying you have to elope with him,” said Lindsay. “Just, enjoy what you have right now. And if tomorrow or the next day you realize you can’t carry on a conversation, then you can call it off and move on with your life. Right now, it seems like you’re worried about a lot of things that haven’t happened yet, just because there’s a chance they could happen.”
“Well, the future is a scary place.”
“The future isn’t real,” said Lindsay. “And those things you’re worried about? They’re all in your head.”
I had never thought of it that way, and it made a strange sort of sense. “Huh.”
After our hair appointment, we walked around town square and had dinner on the outdoor patio at Cabernet Grill. Lindsay ordered a grilled chicken salad and a margarita while I bought a taco bowl and a pale ale. Once we had finished, we sat out there on the patio for about an hour as the sun set and a cool evening breeze blew in. It was that time of night when all the seniors were out walking their dogs and tourists were swarming the square taking selfies and throwing pennies into the fountain.
We parted ways at about 7:30pm, and I drove back to the Savery property. The front porch light was on, and I could see a light through the kitchen window. By now they would have finished dinner, and Mrs. Savery would be loading up the dishwasher, getting ready to settle down with her knitting and a crime show on CBS. Any earlier in the day, and I might have stopped in to say hi, but it was getting late, and in any case, I wasn’t sure I was ready to see Curtis again just yet.
Tomorrow, though… tomorrow we would be going riding.
I went inside the house and climbed into my fox pajamas, and I had just sat down in the recliner with River and a copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire when I heard a knock on the door. Startled, River yowled and dived under the bed.
Cautiously I opened the door. It was Mrs. Savery. She was holding a tiny black Labrador in one arm.
“Hey,” she said, “so, a funny thing happened today. Bill drove into town to the junk yard to drop off some scrap metal, and he ran into this little guy. Nobody would claim him, and, Bill being Bill, he had compassion on the poor fellow.” She raised his left paw as though waving it at me. “Obviously you don’t have to keep it if you don’t want it. I know you’ve got enough animals to be getting on with. I just thought it would make a nice housewarming gift.”
It took me a second to realize what was going on. Of course. She was offering him to me.
I wasn’t going to say no to that, not when she clearly wanted me to have him.
“He’s so precious.” I took him and scooped him up in my arms. “I’d love to keep him, and hopefully he won’t harass the cats too much. He’s young enough that I should be able to train him without too much fuss.”
“I figured you’d know all about that,” said Mrs. Savery, looking pleased. “Bill wanted to name him, but I told him we’d have to leave that up to you.”
“Thanks for that.” I smiled and stroked the back of his head right behind his ears. “I think we’ll call him Gandalf. Gandalf the Lab.”
“Great name,” said Mrs. Savery. “My boys always did love Star Wars.”
Remembering that the puppy hadn’t eaten since he left the scrap yard, she brought over some puppy food from the kitchen. Gandalf poked his nose into it curiously and then slowly ate it, a few bites at a time, until the bowl was empty. Once this was done, he slunk away to a corner of the room and lay down on his paws with a thoughtful expression.
“He seems like a very melancholy pupper,” I said to Mrs. Savery. “Of course I would get an emo dog.”
“He’ll start to feel better once he adjusts to his new surroundings,” said Mrs. Savery. “Right now he’s feeling bewildered because he’s just been taken out of his home environment. Give him a few days, and he’ll be up running around, ripping apart your slippers like it’s nothing.”
In fact, his development into a property-destroying doggo happened a lot more quickly than either of us had expected. I was woken up in the middle of the night from River hissing. She was standing on top of the bookshelf glaring at something below with her eerie bright eyes. Fumbling for the lamp on the nightstand, I turned on the light to find white paper like snow raining down all over one side of the room. Gandalf had gotten into the toilet paper and was pawing at it even now, looking very pleased with himself.
“Gandalf, no!” I said firmly, stooping over and pulling the tissue away. “Stay out of the toilet paper!”
From my previous experience with labs, I knew he didn’t have a clue what I was saying; but within a few weeks, if I kept saying “no!” whenever he got into something, he would start to catch on. In the meantime, anything I wanted to keep from being chewed up I would have to hide or place somewhere where he couldn’t reach it.