Stepdog

by Nicole Galland

  She raised herself slightly and wiggled forward so that the whole bottom of her jaw was on my leg.

  “Oh, it’s like that, is it?” I said, grinning. Without moving her head, she glanced up at me. I smiled down at her. God, was I grateful for this moment. If this moment wasn’t happening, I’d be so fucked in the Sara Renault department, I couldn’t even imagine it.

  Suddenly Cody pushed herself up into a sort of crouch and scoot-slithered her way all the way across my lap. Her tail was off to one knee, her head and forepaws lolling off the other side. It was inverted tarty-dog pose. For a moment neither of us moved. Then, when it was clear I wasn’t going to push her off, she looked up at me and wagged her tail tentatively. She thought this was just fantastic. I began to stroke the soft hair on her back, and felt a heavy, peaceful calm descend on me.

  I stared into space for an hour, contemplating how much worse things could be right now. I fell into a reverie.

  The reverie was interrupted by an unexpected phone call. It shouldn’t have been unexpected, but due to the reverie, it was.

  “Rory O’Connor,” said the barely pubescent male voice on the other end of the line. “I have Doug Martin for you, please hold.”

  “SO HERE’S WHAT it means for us,” I said, stirring in exactly the right amount of honey Sara likes because I am an attentive and loving partner that way, even if I do let her dog eat five pounds of chocolate cake.

  Sara had come home a little early, remembering (better than I did) about my phone conference with Dougie and the executive producers. I pushed the mug to Sara across the counter. She kicked off her shoes, folded one leg under herself, and settled onto the stool. She cupped her hands around the mug, as that particular smile that comes from a nice cup of tea settled onto her face. “I’m all ears,” she said.

  “Are you really? That’s tragic. How will you eat?”

  She stuck her tongue out at me, then said eagerly, “Go on, then.”

  I took a deep breath to calm myself. It was exciting, but scary. I knew from friends of mine—from Dougie himself, in fact—how quickly even a sure thing could fall apart in television.

  “So, they ordered a whole season—”

  Sara grinned and very quietly, adorably, squealed with glee.

  “But that doesn’t mean anything really. First we have to make the pilot, then it gets screened along with a bunch of other pilots, and the studio decides which one they want to make, usually based on all kinds of backroom politics. But if it gets selected, then it gets aired while we’re scrambling to shoot the rest of the season.”

  “So . . . we’re going to Los Angeles?” said Sara.

  God, how I’d prayed for her to ask exactly that.

  I gave her a hopeful look. “Would you really come with me?”

  “As long as your stepdog can come, too.”

  I’d been all over Cody since we got home from the misadventure. It should have made Sara suspicious, but in fairness she was too pleased, I think, to look too hard at it. Cody was in the kitchen area with me, which normally I never allowed. At this moment, she nudged her nose to the back of my knee.

  “Oh . . .” I pretended to need to mull it over. As if I had a choice in the matter. “I suppose she can come.”

  “How was your little picnic today?” Sara asked.

  I drew in a sharp breath and then exhaled the tension onto Cody, bending over to give her a very rough head scratch. “It was fun, wasn’t it, Cody?” I said. “A gathering is always better when an Irishman’s involved, even Henry V knew that, isn’t it?” Having calmed myself, I stood upright and looked at Sara. “Marie made a delicious cake and the pirate costumes went over like gangbusters. We looked the business when we were dueling.”

  She grinned. “Get out. You dueled with a three-year-old.”

  “He’s actually four. And actually, he let me win,” I confided.

  Her interest, thank God, was sated, and her attention went elsewhere.

  “ACH, SO THAT’S the last time I’ll ever taste your chicken tikka masala,” said Danny poignantly, patting his midriff. “Next time round, sure your personal chef will be making it for us on a patio looking out over Beverly Hills.”

  “My personal chef wouldn’t be stupid enough to compete with me when it comes to tikka masala,” I assured him. “I’m Garam-Masala Man. Cheers.” I tapped my seltzer to his pint and we both drank.

  I’d made Danny dinner as thanks for help moving all my LPs into storage. Those were nearly the only thing from my old apartment that I kept. I’d sold pretty much all the rest to the bloke who had been my subletter, who conveniently had just started dating my landlord (their sound track being something from Aerosmith). We were nearing the end of several weeks of planning and transition, and as much as I loved Sara, it was a bit of a relief that she was working late and that a mate of mine was over.

  The dog, though, was still underfoot. It had only taken a few days for my sentimentality about her to fade. It wasn’t her fault; it was Sara’s behavior pushing my buttons. You don’t want to know how many conversations we had about dealing with Cody while moving to L.A. It would have been the simplest of enterprises without the dog—or even with the dog if Sara had just been willing to trust the airlines not to kill Cody in transit. But she didn’t trust them, and so our entire move was revolving around what would work for the dog.

  “So when are you out of here?” asked Danny, pushing his empty plate, almost literally licked clean, across the counter to me. I put it in the sink with mine.

  “We gave May first as our out date, but we’re planning to get on the road April twenty-sixth.” Chuffed, I added, “I have a meeting in New York on the twenty-eighth with the executive producers, a sort of welcome-to-the-winner’s-circle coffee.”

  Danny’s eyes lit up. “Never! Really? I suppose you’ll be treatin’ them to coffee, then, now you’re a star and all.”

  I gave him a wry look. “I’m not getting rich off this pilot, mate. Although to be fair, the executive producer called me five times to say how thrilled he was we were going to be working together—it was great crack the first two or three times, but after that it just started to feel like a commercial being aired too often, not that I’m complaining, mind.”

  “Oh, I’d be complaining, same as that,” Danny said, deadpan.

  “His assistant sent me a bottle of champagne and flowers for Sara.”

  “Ach, so they mean business!” Danny said, impressed. “All that, before they even know if you’re going to do more than one episode? Which might not even be seen?”

  “Mad, isn’t it.”

  “But you’re moving out there with no surety of the future either, are ye?”

  I shrugged. “Sara and I thought, you know, this place is too small for a couple, but otherwise living together isn’t as bad as we thought—”

  “—except for the dog—”

  “Except for the dog, but we’re both getting better about that. We’re mad for each other, Danny, we want to live together for real—”

  “Ach, that’s great, big man.”

  “So it means we need to move anyhow, so why not move to the place where it all happens?” I was oversimplifying, it’s true. We didn’t really need to move all the way to Los Angeles as yet, but the idea seemed kind of exotic. Sara was game for adventure, and I loved her for that.

  Danny shook his head in wonder. “Wee Sara suggested you move in with her to fool the U.S. government. I think you’re the one got fooled, mate. All you did was kiss her, and now look.”

  “I’m a very lucky bloke,” I said reverentially. “Did I tell you we’re driving cross-country?”

  Again his eyes got big. “Are you mad? Not in the wee MINI Cooper? With the dog?”

  “Well, we’re shipping some stuff, it doesn’t all have to fit in the MINI with us. We’re getting a furnished flat to start with, and then if the series is picked up, we’ll look for something to really call home. And if it doesn’t, well, then maybe we’ll just hop
back in the car and drive back. This way we’ll get to see America, plus we’ll have a car when we get out there.”

  “That’ll be a grand adventure, then. And where will you go along the way, so? Mount Rushmore?”

  “Too far north.”

  “Texas? You’ll go through Texas, surely?”

  I nodded.

  Danny looked delighted for me—and probably jealous.

  “Always wanted to see Texas. And Graceland?” His eyes were wide. “I’ve always had a yen to see it.”

  “Obviously Graceland,” I said.

  “And the Grand Canyon?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “You know, all of County Donegal would fit inside the Grand Canyon.”

  “Well, maybe they should dump it in, waste of fuckin’ space in Ireland.” I grinned.

  Danny shook his head, almost tearing up. “Always wanted to see the Grand Canyon,” he said. “Where else? Do you know your route yet?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Her Ladyship has planned out the entire trip. I’ll show you.” I picked up a wire-bound notebook from the coffee table and opened it to a random page and held it out to Danny.

  It took him a moment to digest the enormity of Sara’s project. “Show don’t tell” is the actor’s mantra, so here’s an example. The page I’d opened to was titled “ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI” and read:

  THIS MORNING, DEPARTING FROM:

  Columbus, OH (sunrise 6:20 am)

  DRIVING FOR:

  9 hours including all stops (418 miles)

  EXERCISE:

  Waggin’ Tails Bark Park, 10450 E. 63rd St, Lawrence, IN 46236

  LUNCH STOP:

  Indianapolis, North College Ave. area (Yats?)

  AFTERNOON EXERCISE:

  Silverlake Park Nature Trail, Highland IL 62249

  ST. LOUIS:

  2199 FOREST AVE (sunset 8 pm, sunrise 6 am)

  TOMORROW, DEPARTING TO:

  TULSA, OK (6 hours, 380 miles)

  DETAILS: We’ll be staying with Candace and Michael, they have a Jack Russell named Dixie and a fenced yard for Cody, plus they have an urban farm with chickens, so we can have fresh eggs for breakfast. There’s an Italian restaurant down the block and the St. Louis Arch is 6.9 miles away if we want to go in the morning before we head to Tulsa.

  Danny pursed his lips, humbled and awed.

  “The whole thing’s like this,” I said, and added, because I couldn’t help myself: “Because of the dog.”

  Any further conversation on that topic was stifled by the sound of the outer door opening. The dog leapt toward the door, her tail wagging madly, her body almost hopping. Could it be . . . might it be . . . possibly? Maybe? Yes! Sara was home! How astounding!

  As if she hadn’t spent a perfectly companionable evening with myself and Danny, Cody began to fling herself in anticlockwise circles, making a stifled whining noise as if barely restraining herself from bursting into song, as if she’d been abandoned for months and was desperate for human contact.

  “Hello, sweetie,” Sara hummed to her, the moment she was in the door. She knelt down to be eye level with the dog, who was desperately relieved Sara had entered. “Hello hello hello, my darling.” Of course, a brief tarty-dog pose as Sara stood again, and then much pushing of the dog’s nose against Sara’s legs as if Cody was trying to clear the smell of Irish Males out of her olfactory system.

  “Hi, love,” Sara said to me once Cody had been mollified. “Danny! Hello there!” She put her bag on the counter, grinned at him, and gave him a big hug. Somewhat shyly, he reciprocated.

  Then, and only then, did I get a little love. She moved around the counter into the kitchen area, and held her arms open a moment, gazing at me, then stepped closer and wrapped them around me. That felt, as always, magic. I hugged her back and decided that it really wasn’t such a big deal that she was organizing all the spontaneity out of our entire cross-country adventure.

  “How are you, Sara?” asked Danny.

  “Oh, you know, we’re sort of all over the place here,” she said, smiling. “Thanks for helping Rory out today.”

  “So you’re leaving your job at the museum, then, Sara?”

  “My manager said I could take a three-month leave to sort of study at another museum,” she said. “Till we know more.”

  “She’s sent electronic flocks of her résumé to museums around L.A. County,” I said. “Already had some nibbles. Somebody will want her. She’s a great catch.” To demonstrate, I caught her around the waist and pulled her to me from behind.

  She turned to me as I released her. “Somebody does want me,” she said. “Well, maybe.” She bit her lower lip, and oh that grin of hers was always so adorable. “I heard from the Getty. They want to interview me in person.”

  “Fantastic!” I said. I felt a certain relief. Knowing she had something worthwhile to do out there would make me feel less guilty for taking her so far away from all of her people. I gave her a big fat kiss, and patted the nearer stool for her to sit on. “Tell us about it.”

  “It’s a new position they’re creating,” she continued, beaming. She folded one leg under herself as she always did when she sat on the stools. “Sort of like what I do now, but I’d be setting the job up and training somebody to actually do it. And while I’m there, I would be learning about some programs they have, and bringing those ideas back to Boston to try to incorporate them. I’ll tell you more about it later, probably not interesting for Danny.” She flashed him a knowing smile, then turned back to me. “The one thing that’s important, though, is that the in-person interview window is nearly over, so . . .” She grimaced. “I . . . need to get to Los Angeles earlier than you do.”

  “Okay,” I said uncertainly.

  “The only date they’re willing to see me is . . . the twenty-seventh.”

  It took me a moment. “That’s the day after we leave here,” I said. “That’s before we’re even due in New York.”

  “Before you’re even due in New York,” she corrected. “You’re going to drop me off at Logan and I’ll fly to L.A., and then . . .” She let it hang in the air.

  “And then after your interview, you’ll fly to New York and I’ll pick you up there,” I finished, anticipating.

  She grimaced and shook her head. “There’s another complication. I was having the final conversation with the landlord, and somehow it turned out that when we said we had a dog, he thought we said we didn’t have a dog. Dogs aren’t allowed.”

  “In the place we just signed a lease for?” I said. Cody, as if sensing this conversation was about her, looked very alert and trotted over to push her nose against Sara’s leg.

  “Well, he released us from that because of the misunderstanding. He was really very sweet about it.”

  “What, so we have nowhere to live?” I said. My incredulity attracted Cody’s interest. She left off nosing Sara and started to nose me, but I gestured her off me.

  “Maybe I should be going now,” said Danny.

  “I’ll find a place,” said the ever-efficient Sara. “I have a couple of college friends out there, I can stay with them and look for something. So it’s sort of a blessing that I have to go out there anyhow, so I can find us housing.” She gave me a compassionately disappointed look. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you’ve got to drive across on your own.” Pause. “With Cody, I mean.”

  There was a pause as we looked at each other.

  “Okay, big man, I’m away now,” said Danny with a nervous laugh. “Have to be hitting the road.”

  I know we were both perfectly pleasant to him as he exited but I’m not really sure how, because it seems to me we just kept staring at each other until we were alone.

  “You’re joking,” I said.

  “I’ll join you en route as soon as I’ve gotten the housing sorted out. Maybe I can meet you in Flagstaff so we can at least do the Grand Canyon together.”

  “Amazing,” I said. I took a moment to absorb the disappointment. “Well,
I can make lemonade out of lemons. You won’t mind if I chuck all that hysterical overplanning out the window, will you? I’d rather wing it.”

  “No,” said Sara. “That route has all the dog-friendly places—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I shouted toward the ceiling. “Everything is always about the fucking dog!”

  The fucking dog, excited by my excitement, jumped up and rested her front paws on my leg. I pushed her off. Undisturbed, she trotted into the living room and found a bone to chew on, on her bed.

  “I am uprooting my entire life as a show of good faith,” said Sara. “We don’t actually need to be moving to Los Angeles yet. So if I need to know that you’re someplace where the dog can get exercise, can’t you give me that?”

  “But you’re missing the point,” I said. “Of course I’d give you that, I’d give you whatever you needed, I adore you and I’m grateful for all of it, but we wouldn’t need that hysterical level of order if it wasn’t for the dog.”

  “Actually,” Sara said fiercely, “we really wouldn’t need it if we weren’t going to Los Angeles to start with. I married you so you could do a series that was supposed to shoot in Boston. If I’m willing to accommodate you by moving to Los Angeles, can’t you be willing to accommodate the dog?”

  “Nobody has to accommodate anybody,” I retorted. “You don’t have to come to Los Angeles. I never said you had to come to Los Angeles. You could have renewed your lease and stayed here. We could call the L.A. bloke back and I could take that place on my own.”

  “No, you can’t, we can’t live on separate coasts,” Sara said impatiently.

  “We can do whatever we want!” I retorted. “We’re grown-ups!”

  “We’re married,” Sara countered sharply.

  “We’re married grown-ups! It’s the twenty-first century. We can define the rules of our marriage for ourselves, for fuck’s sake.”

  “For the next two years, we have to be a seamless couple and behave exactly the way the U.S. government thinks a married couple should behave. We can’t be living on separate coasts because you don’t want to accommodate my dog. If you’re going to Los Angeles, I’m going with you.”