Dixie is sitting in the sun, but starts jumping again when she sees me.
“Be good, Dixie. Mommy will be right back.” I sprint across the street, now noticing the girl’s car is not in the driveway. Hmm…they could be out in her car.
I ring the bell and wait several minutes before I hear footsteps. Brandon opens the door and immediately looks annoyed. He runs his fingers through his hair and sighs.
“Hi, Claire. What’s up?”
Now I’m mad again. He didn’t even care how I got home or what happened to me.
“Hi. I’m sorry about my behavior last night. I’m happy for your success, I just…I have some other stuff going on and I know I drank too much again, and you were with your new girlfriend and I didn’t want to bother you. You didn’t seem like you wanted—”
Brandon’s eyes dart behind me as he pushes past me and flies down his porch steps.
“What are you doing? I am trying to tell you—” I turn to see Dixie running down the road out of the cul-de-sac, with Brandon chasing her!
My heart rate has jumped to the level of sprinters at the Olympic finish line. I start running after them, but become winded and weak before I get to the end of the street. Hangovers are not good for physical endurance. Fully expecting that Brandon has caught her and is on his way back, I sit on the curb and attempt to catch my breath.
What seems like an eternity later Brandon jogs back to me, but without my baby.
“Holy shit, that dog is fast. I’m so sorry, Claire. I tried to grab her but she went through a few backyards and I couldn’t catch her. I think she was chasing an animal, probably a squirrel. I’m going to get in the car and drive around to where I last saw her. You should go inside and send out an e-mail to the neighborhood mailing list. If someone spots her they can grab her before she gets too far.” Brandon is also out of breath and panting on the way to his car.
I don’t know what to do first. Tears immediately form and I am frantic. She’s so little—she could get hit by a car so easily. She doesn’t even have an ID tag and her microchip monitoring expired! If I wasn’t so caught up in all this stupid men shit I would take better care of her.
I want to go with Brandon, but he has already taken off. I run back to my house and remember I don’t have my computer. I didn’t even think to ask Justin if he was done with it. Nathan’s computer is still here. Nathan. I must tell him what’s going on. As I get onto his computer and sign into my own e-mail, I call him.
“Yes, Claire, what’s going on? I’m with a patient.”
“Nathan, my baby ran off and I don’t know what to do!” Now I’m hysterical.
“What do you mean? You don’t let her outside off leash.”
I explain what happened, leaving out the part about going to Brandon’s to apologize.
“Brandon is riding around looking for her and I’m going to send an e-mail to the neighborhood, but she’s so little and she has no idea how to get home!” More hysterical bawling.
“Claire, try to calm down. If Brandon is looking for her, he’ll find her. I’ll be over as soon as I can, but you have to be more responsible.”
I don’t have the energy to defend myself, and really there is no defense, except he is the one who got me all screwed up in the first place.
I send out a blast e-mail to the neighborhood and include a picture of Dixie. Since this is not my computer, I find one I had sent to my mother in another e-mail. Now I need to update her microchip monitoring. I keep glancing at my phone, praying that Brandon will call any second and say he has found her.
I go back to Google and begin to type in the name of the microchip company. It starts with an S and as I start to type the name I see previous searches for all kinds of other sites. Sex and sadomasochism both start with an S, as do suck and slut and other words that lead me into Nathan’s porn fetish. Son of a bitch! I can deal with him looking at a little porn—that’s normal, but some of this stuff seems a little disturbing. I am beginning to think that the feather duster is just the tip of the iceberg, and he isn’t using it to clean his knick knack shelves.
I need to find out more about Nathan, but I don’t know a single person who knows him. It hits me that he has never introduced me to anyone. I wonder if there’s someone at the golf club I could talk to, since he’s there so much. Uh oh, I just thought of someone.
I can’t believe I’m doing this after calling him a bug killing freak the last time I saw him, but I’m desperate. I hope I still have his number. I do, and dial it while updating the microchip information.
“Hi, Daniel. It’s Claire. Do you remember me?” I wince in anticipation of an angry response.
“Oh yeah, of course. We didn’t have a good night, did we? I’m glad you called. I’ve been thinking about what happened during my meditation sessions, and I do owe you an apology. You were not sober, and tantric sex requires two willing and centered people.”
“I understand. You just made an error in judgment. I’m sorry, too. I know you weren’t expecting to hear from me, but I need some information and I’m wondering if you can help me.”
I tell him about Nathan, leaving out my specific concerns. “I just don’t think he’s being completely honest with me, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Dr. Nathan. Yep, I know him. I’m sorry, Claire, but he hasn’t been here in months. He was caught with the owner’s wife in the back room of the pro shop. Some nasty stuff too. I had to smudge the place with sage.”
I swallow hard and reply, “Are you positive?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so. I think he was also rumored to have had some kind of improper conduct with patients at some point in the past. I wouldn’t recommend him as a doctor, let alone a boyfriend. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
I thank him with promises to get together for coffee one day. Turning back to the computer, which is now like a blinking light of evidence, I freeze up. I bet there is a ton of incriminating information in here. Why does he even want to be with me? My thoughts switch back to Dixie. Where is my baby? If lose her I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t even breathe…
“Claire!”
I run to the doorway and Brandon is standing there, shoulders hunched.
“I spotted her but she ran once I tried to grab her. I need more help with this. I can’t cover enough ground. I called Max and Bianca. They’re on their way.”
“I’m coming with you!”
He pushes against my shoulders, holding me in place. I try to punch him and he grabs my wrists.
“Oww, you’re hurting me!”
“Claire, get it together. I know you’re upset, but you need to stay here. Check your e-mail and phone. Wait to see if she comes back here, if someone brings her back here.” He relaxes his grip on my wrists and looks me in the eye. “I promise I will do my best to find her and bring her home safely.” I drop my head in defeat, and he lifts up my chin. “Claire, I will find her.”
He runs out as I see Max and Bianca pull up in front of his house. I close the door. As much as I appreciate them helping, I can’t talk to anyone right now. I sit down and stare into space. My baby is missing. She could go in a storm drain! I should have reminded Brandon of that. But if that happens he will never find her. She’ll be gone forever. I put my head down on the kitchen table and bawl my eyes out.
“Claire, are you here? I just got your e-mail. What happened?” Jane charges into my kitchen, frantic and wild-eyed. She hugs me and I proceed to tell her the whole sordid tale, from the events of last night to the discoveries of today.
She leads me to the couch and starts making tea. I don’t want any, but I let her perform her motherly ritual.
“They’ll find her. She won’t go far. She’s probably scared—she could be hiding somewhere. The neighbors will be on the lookout. It’s Saturday and a beautiful day. People are outside.”
She comes over to sit beside me and hugs me again. “I know what she means to you, Claire.”
“She’s all I have
. I’ll never be a mother and it looks like I’ll never find a man, either.” Fresh tears explode out of my eyes like a garden hose.
“Claire, I think maybe you should have gone to see a therapist after your divorce. You’ve tried to handle too much on your own and—”
“And I’m fucking it all up. I know.”
I sit with Jane for several hours, and it seems like days. Brandon checks in periodically, but he hasn’t seen Dixie. I ask if I can come back out with him and try to find her, and he agrees if Jane stays at my house. He comes back for me and we park in an area in the next neighborhood, closer to the highway.
“Do you really think she went this far?”
Brandon takes my hand to help me out of the car. “We’ve searched our neighborhood to death, and Max and Bianca are still over there. A few of our other neighbors are looking, too. Let’s just walk around here a bit.”
I see storm drains everywhere and I feel sick. I walk over to one of them and yell. “Dixie!” I look up at the grass and through my tears I see two little poops. They look recent. Never in my life did I think I would be excited to see shit, but just as I open my mouth to yell for Brandon, my heart sinks again. The storm drain. She loves disgusting smells and dark underground places. Dachshunds are a burrowing breed, bred to root out creatures who live in dark holes. She sleeps under blanket and pillows, she digs, and she hides under the couch. Wait, she hides under…
“Brandon! I have an idea!”
I look up and I see Brandon walking towards me, clutching a wiggly wiener tightly to his chest.
My heart races and I run across the lawn to meet him.
“Where did you find her?” She leaps out of his arms into mine and whimpers. I cover her little face in kisses and squeeze her so tight she could pop.
“She was hiding under the back porch of this house. I was calling her name and I guess she recognized me and came running out.” Brandon pats Dixie’s head and she licks his hands.
“Of course she did—she loves you!” I look at his eyes and the joy from a moment ago is gone. I turn back to my little runaway. “Dixie, you little whack-job. You made Mommy sick with worry, but I love you so much!” I bury my face in her fur.
Brandon looks away and says, “Let’s get home.”
I follow him to the car, gripping Dixie to my chest.
“Brandon, thank you so much!” I reach out to hug him, which is awkward with a wiener in the way.
He accepts the embrace, but barely returns it. “You’re welcome. I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”
I continue to pet and cuddle Dixie on the way back to our street. Brandon calls Max and tells him we found her. I grab the phone and thank him and Bianca.
Brandon parks the car and starts getting out.
“Hey, wait a minute. You don’t have anything else to say?”
He sighs and looks like he’s gritting his teeth. “Claire, what more do you want me to say?”
“Is your girlfriend due to come back tonight and you need to ditch me quick? Is that why you’re in a rush?” I regret blurting that out.
He pounds the steering wheel, which startles Dixie. And me.
“Claire, if you must know, and I don’t know why you would care, that was my sister, Colleen.”
“Oh.” His sister. “But wait, didn’t she have blond hair?”
“This is ridiculous. You know some people’s hair gets darker as they get older. Some women color their hair. I think I know my own sister and why would I lie to you? Wait, I know—you think all men lie. How much lying is the doctor doing?”
“What makes you think he’s lying?”
He looks down at his hands and licks his lips. “Claire, I wasn’t the one almost passed out drunk last night.” He looks up and turns to face me. “Why don’t you ask him what he was up to?”
He gets out of the car, and since it’s his car, I have no choice but to follow.
“Brandon, come back!”
He is up his porch steps. “I am done with this bullshit. I am not arguing with you. You think you have it all worked out. Just keep Dixie in the house until your latest man crisis blows over.” He walks inside and slams the door.
Dixie and I are left alone at the end of his driveway. I hastily walk back to the safety of my house. I have no more tears left. I sit with Dixie on the couch, who seems to have recovered from her ordeal and wants to play. If only I could be as resilient and forgetful as a wiener dog.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Brandon is right. Nathan is trouble, but I don’t know how to just break it off with all these unanswered questions. He said he loved me—doesn’t that mean something?
Going back to the dreaded computer, I send out an e-mail letting everyone know Dixie is at home, safe and sound. Jane wasn’t here when I got back. She left a note on the kitchen counter. She had to leave to take the kids to soccer practice, so I text her to let her know we found Dixie. I have several other texts, but none from Nathan. Here’s one from an unrecognized number. Probably one of the neighbors about Dixie.
“Hey, did you find your dog?”
“She was found. Who is this?”
“Cecilia.”
I have lost count of how many times my heart has dropped into my stomach today.
“How did you know my dog was missing?”
I wait a minute or so for a response, tapping the table with my fingernails.
“Justin told me.”
What the hell is she talking about? Justin doesn’t know.
I stop responding and go straight to the source for an answer.
“Hey, what’s up? How’re you feeling?” Justin sounds concerned.
“Justin, did you talk to Cecilia today?”
“No, why would I talk to that crazy bitch?”
I explain the events of the day, including Dixie’s disappearance and all the work Brandon did to find her.
“Claire, she’s baiting you. Don’t you see that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Who else did you tell that Dixie was missing?”
“Just my friend Jane and Nath… shit.”
“I tried to tell you this morning, but you wouldn’t let me. Remember how we were wondering how Cecilia knew about our relationship, and I said I was going to figure it out?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with Nathan?”
“Turns out she is screwing one of my guys and getting access to company e-mail.”
“Justin, I don’t see where you’re going with this.”
“I’m getting there. Keep your panties on. In the process of discovering this I read all of her company e-mails. And…there was some correspondence between her and Nathan.”
I inhale sharply and grasp the phone tighter. “What did they say?”
“She’s tricky. None of them came right out and said anything really incriminating, but there was a lot of flirting and ego stroking. My guess is that Nathan knows enough to be more discreet, but Cecilia isn’t stupid. She wants you to find out.”
Discreet. Yeah, that’s probably how he avoided losing his medical license and going to jail. She wants me to find out?
“Claire, I think he left with her last night, and used your drinking as an excuse for not being able to find you. He was watching you closely and he slowly distanced himself. He saw me take you to the bar. I ask you—what kind of a man sees a good looking young guy feeding his woman alcohol and runs the other way?”
“I feel like such a fool.”
“Claire, you didn’t know. You trusted him.”
“I think he just wants a socially suitable wife to legitimize himself so he can continue to screw around and live a double life. I can’t believe I didn’t see that. I was so blinded by his charm and he’s the right age and—”
“I know, you thought he was safe and he wouldn’t want children. Don’t beat yourself up. But I will say it again—Brandon was watching you all night. He was with that hot girl, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. I don�
�t think he’s into her.”
“She’s his sister.”
“That makes sense. He was probably telling her all night how he feels about you.”
“And I thought he was telling her what a freak show I am and how I was a total bitch to him.”
“He was probably saying that too, in between the other stuff.”
“You’re lucky this is a phone call because I would—”
“I know, you would throw heavy objects at me. You’re a tough little chick, Claire.”
As I smile at Justin’s comment, I am scrolling through Nathan’s computer. I know I probably have enough evidence to be sure I’m not being hasty, but I want more. I want the smoking gun, as they say in the detective shows. I gasp audibly. Here it is.
“What’s the matter? Are you there?” Justin’s voice has turned to one of worry.
“I just watched the beginning of a video on Nathan’s computer.”
“Uh oh, I’m guessing it isn’t from a birthday party or a trip to the beach.”
“It starts out with him singing the song, “Cecilia,” and let’s just say that Nathan and Cecilia are wearing what looks like Halloween costumes. Only they would get arrested if they wore them trick or treating.”
“I’m sorry, Claire. If it wasn’t for the fact this is a devastating blow to you, I wouldn’t mind seeing that video. I can give you my personal e-mail address.”
At first I am angry at him for making light of this serious situation, but then I burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry. Wait, you’re not really upset?” He sounds confused.
“I am, but maybe also relieved. I just couldn’t shake the hope that he could be the one, but I have no real feelings for him.”
There Are No Men Page 33
