C.J.: Do you want me to stop asking questions?
There is no way I’m going to stop asking questions, he looks fine.
Grant: No, I just wish I could answer them more in-depth. I need to think about these things.
The plate has been licked clean in record time and a big, fluffy, cream colored head has emerged looking to thank the generous human who gave her a treat. Grant pets her head, a gesture she has interpreted as an invitation to put her front feet up on the couch she’s not supposed to be on. He picks her up. All seventy-five pounds of her and cradles her like a baby across his lap. It looks like he’s holding a giant-sized teddy bear from the storefront window at FAO Schwartz. She lovingly licks the scruffy stubble on his neck and chin as he looks at her all googly eyed and talks to her like she’s an infant.
Grant: You were a bad girl today. But it’s okay, Mommy and Daddy still love you.
I love how much he loves her.
C.J.: Remember the day you went to get her?
Grant: Yes.
His face lights up with happiness when he talks about her. She’s pulling away now. She gets hot and annoyed at being held, she’s not a lap dog. She turns her head away from him and lets it hang down as if looking at the floor wishing he would set her down. He pulls her in tighter and tries to get her to look back up. She opens her mouth and gives him a warning growl, which he interprets as an invitation to wrestle. A match is about to begin, which he will never, ever win. She is much more adept and skilled in the art of evasion.
C.J.: Remember when you protested about getting a dog and we had to beg you to get her?
He sets her down on the floor and is posturing to play with her. He answers as if talking to her, not me.
Grant: I know. What was I thinking? Yes, you’re so sweet aren’t you? He’s tugging at her front paws and ducking his head as she pretends to pounce and attack him. I can’t imagine life without all our babies. She’s our first baby.
C.J.: Can we let the record reflect that I was right and you were wrong? I told you that you would fall in love. I didn’t expect she’d become your dog though.
Grant: Yeah, you’re my dog. Did you hear that? Come here sweetheart.
He’s teasing her and reaching for her. She jumps up on the couch she’s not supposed to be on to get a better vantage over him.
C.J.: Hey! Get off the couch!
She jumps down at my command and goes right back to their match.
Grant: Momma’s mean, come here. It’s okay. I’ll let you on the couch when she’s not here.
I sigh. Resigning to being that parent.
C.J.: Remember how tiny and white and fluffy she was? You were so sweet to get her for us. I still wished we could have named her Teddy.
Grant: No way. Kona is a great name. She’s our Kona, she’s not a Teddy.
C.J.: Remember when you shaved her like a poodle and I thought you brought home a stray? He laughs. That wasn’t funny, she looked hideous, even she was embarrassed. You know I called the groomer and had them put a note in her chart to never let you do anything like that again.
Grant: Aww . . . come on, it was fun. Tomorrow when I drop her off we should ask them to shave her like a lion!
Chapter 8
Forever After-Kona
“Come on. We grew up with dogs and we really miss having one.” Dani and I cornered Grant behind the kitchen table so he couldn’t walk away.
“Well, I don’t have any time to take care of a dog. So it’ll all be on you guys.”
“That’s fine,” Dani shrugged and stepped back throwing her hands up in the air surrendering. She was trying to bring our conversation to a close in favor of getting a dog. A big dog. The cream colored, flat-haired Goldendoodle that was an eight-hour drive from our home on some farm rescue operation.
“Dani’s old enough now, she can come home every day after school and let it out,” I said, further making our case. Grant was visibly frustrated with our continued pleas but I wasn’t about to give up. “Listen, I don’t think you understand what’s going to happen here. At some point, this family is going to get a dog. You and I both know it.” I waved a finger in the space between us. “So, we might as well get one now, train it, and have it be a little older before we have babies that come along.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I don’t want to have a puppy and a baby at the same time. If you plan on getting me pregnant before my eggs dry up we’d better get a dog now.” He rolled his eyes. “You didn’t grow up with dogs. Cookie didn’t love you. You said so yourself. Cookie loved your mom. So you don't know what it’s like to love a dog and have one love you. But once you do, you’ll never be sorry and you’ll forever be a dog person. I swear.” It looked like he was going to walk away. “I’ll drive there myself and get her. I am a dog person. Period.”
“Her?” he said.
“Yes. Her.” Dani stood beside me, her arms crossed with a take that Grant, Mom’s going to do it herself attitude.
“Whatever,” he said. “You two do what you want. But I don't have time for a dog.”
I walked over to him and he tried to get away. I pulled him back by his shirt then latched onto him so I could pull him close and wrap my arms and leg around him—just like he would do to me. “The more you resist the more I’m going to grip you tight. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Stop it now.”
“You stop it now. Let me hug you.” I was trying to make him submit like he does to me when I’m in a mood. “Honey, I’m going to send you the information and a picture of her.” He let out a big gasp of air like he was about to die. I smiled and laughed as I talked. “I have one day off this week. I’m going to drive down and get her, okay?”
“Whatever,” he mumbled. “Can I go now?”
“Yes. Just look at her picture when I send it. She needs us.”
I walked back to Dani and hugged her. She was jumping up and down. “Shhh, don’t act happy until after he leaves.” I looked over my shoulder as Grant watched us. He shook his head and walked away. Dani and I burst into laughter and jumped up and down holding hands.
…
24 hours later
“Hi sweetheart, how are you?” I called him during the day like I usually did.
“I’m good. Tired though.”
“No kidding. You left super early this morning. You on the road today?
“Yep.”
“I didn’t know you were working out of town. What are you doing?” I swiveled around in my desk chair and looked out the window at the trees across campus beginning to turn burnt red and yellow.
“Well, I’ve got to go to Wisconsin today. It’s a beautiful drive. The trees are starting to turn.”
“Shut up.” I spit into the phone then stood up from my chair and slapped one hand on my desk. “You are NOT going to Wisconsin . . . are you?” Silence. All I could hear were the tires on the pavement as I processed my thoughts. “Grant? Are you there?”
“Yeah I’m here.”
“Are you serious?” A giddy feeling was beginning to creep over me.
“Yeah, well you guys just wouldn’t leave me alone about it and I didn’t want you driving all this way by yourself.”
I let out a sound that was as close to an eeekk as it could get. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me! I could have gone with you.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” His voice was soft and sweet. “But now that you know, you should go pick up some supplies so we have everything we need when I get home tonight.”
“OMG this is amazing! I love you so much. You are the best husband in the whole world. You are going to love having a dog. I promise.”
“I’m sure I will,” he said confidently and I could hear him smiling. “Mwah!”
“Mwah!”
I hung up the phone, jumped up and down, and did a little fast run on the spot. I hate running. I finished payroll then announced to my staff that I was leaving early. I had to get home—a child was about to be born.
Chapter 9
Forever After-Grant
C.J. : I only have one more question so I can finish my book. Tell me I was right and that you love having a dog.
Grant: You were right. I love her.
He looks at her drooling at his food.
C.J.: I love her too. What are you most looking forward to in our future together?
Grant: I think just being able to do whatever we want, when we want.
C.J.: When is that going to happen?
Grant: Sooner is my vote. This syrup is really good. How could it have less sugar?
C.J.: I didn’t say it had less sugar. I said it’s much lower on the glycemic index than Aunt Jemima.
Kona is sitting perfectly straight, staring at him eating. If he makes eye contact with her she looks down quickly, hoping he won’t ask her to lie down and stop staring at him.
Grant: This stuff is so good. Oh, I’m sorry, were you saving it for something?
C.J.: Yes. But I’ll get more.
C.J.: Speaking of, what’s your favorite food?
Grant: You said only one more question? Nachos. You know that.
I ignore him. Of course I have more questions. Bhahaha . . .
C.J.: What’s your favorite beer?
Grant: In general, IPA’s. You know that too.
C.J.: I know I know that. This is just for the record. Can’t you just play along and accommodate me? Are you a beer snob?
Grant: Yes.
C.J.: Am I a beer snob?
Grant: No. You’re a wine snob.
Touché.
I take a sip of wine and air toast him from across the room. I’m actually not a wine snob or I wouldn’t think box is the new bottle. I’m more of a wine admirer.
He sets his plate on the floor and lets Kona lick it.
C.J.: Don’t let her lick that. It’s not good for her.
Grant: She’ll be fine. She eats socks.
C.J.: And washcloths.
Grant: And ten-dollar bills.
We both make the face as if we’re going to vomit thinking about this shared memory of finding a size 4-5T kid’s sock and a ten-dollar bill wadded up perfectly inside a large cylindrical dropping of poop in our backyard. We contemplated cleaning it up and giving it to someone. We made a short list. In the end we did the right thing.
C.J.: Hey, I forgot to tell you. Remember that big-ass wolf dog I showed you pictures of from my rescue trip?
Grant: No.
C.J.: I wasn’t going to ask that. Fine I’m not telling you the rest.
Grant: I was just joking. Come on, tell me.
C.J.: Nope. You clearly don’t care.
Grant: You know I care. I stayed home with the kids all weekend so you could go help with the rescue dogs. I’m proud that you do it. Of course I care.
C.J.: I know you do. So can we keep her? I stop and look up to give him a wide-eyed look and gigantic grin. Just kidding. She’s already with a foster. What I was going to say is that she’s pregnant.
We both know the implications of this. Soon there will be beautiful, fluffy, wolf-like puppies no soul on earth can resist. Yet this is a reminder that each time the team rescues seventy-five unwanted dogs and puppies from the frozen ground, there are more on the way.
Grant: When will you go back up there?
C.J.: [shrugging] I’m not sure.
I realize that talking about this issue tonight doesn’t lift me up, it brings me down because of what happened at the rescue this week. I resist the urge to tell him we lost one to parvo, and didn’t make it in time for the four others under the porch. I resist telling him all about the things that happened last week; the cat with no ears, how the yearly die off has begun. I want to vomit up everything I’ve seen so that I can unsee it. But I can’t do that to him. He doesn’t come back quick from those dark places. Neither do I. I shake my head and force a full body shiver over my skin to try and shed what I’m thinking. I take a sip of wine and turn it off. I have no choice. I have to.
I look at my list of conversation-starter questions and pick one that’s a bit lighter.
C.J.: If marijuana was on the ballot in our state to be legalized, how would you vote?
He walks toward the kitchen as I’m talking, opens the fridge then comes back with another snack.
Grant: Yes. Of course. It should be legal. He’s eating crackers and hummus now like he has a bad case of the munchies. But its use should be constrained by commonsense laws. Obviously using and driving should be against the law. It probably shouldn’t be legal in public either, like alcohol. You shouldn’t be able to walk down the street and smoke marijuana where other people can smell it.
We certainly should be able to use it for medicinal purposes. Kona is watching him, ready for a crumb to fall. I’m hot. It’s hot in here.
C.J.: It’s not hot, it’s cold. It’s like minus twenty-four outside. I was going to take those crackers and hummus to work with me tomorrow. Could you not eat them all? Please. My comment does not affect the velocity at which he is cramming my work snack into his pie hole. I know you’re going to eat them all. Now I’m really going to annoy you with questions. Can you explain to me why we have leap year?
Grant: Yes, I can. Are you ready?
C.J.: No actually.
I’m annoyed he’s eating the snack I was going to take to work. Now WTF am I supposed to eat? Also, let me save you from a long dialogue about leap years and the answers to a few other random questions I asked only because I was pissed he ate my snack. His answers contained the words Pope Gregory the XVI, Homo habilis, matrilinear and something about chromosomal Adam and chromosomal Eve.
C.J.: I’m going to have another glass of wine. You want to sit in the hot tub?
Grant: Sure. But I want to go to bed early tonight.
C.J.: You say that every night.
Grant: I know but we should really try to do it one night.
He turns off the television, red lamps and pulls down the shades as I pour the wine.
C.J.: What fun would that be?
Grant: Honey I just want a little! That’s too much!
C.J.: I analyze the pour. It’s just right. Just above the line where the glass curves at the widest point. That’s not too much. That’s a normal pour. Your pours are shallow.
Grant: A normal pour is only up to the widest point of the glass.
C.J.: I know that. That’s what I did. Plus a tiny bit more. That is certainly not what you do.
Grant: Gimmie that. He takes his wine glass and I smile big. I love this man. You want to start the hot tub or should I?
C.J.: I will. Meet you in there. Bring that bottle of wine. Just in case. Honey, remember when we decided to put the big Jacuzzi tub in our bathroom and the lady said it wasn’t worth it because people don’t use them? Thank god we didn’t listen to her.
Grant: No shit. I love our tub.
Insert I’m-going-to-fuck-you-in–the-tub grin here.
C.J.: See? It’s not all my fault that we stay up late every night. It’s your fault too.
Grant: Okay, maybe we’ll skip tonight then and just go to bed. Nah, what fun would that be?
Chapter 10
“IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT,
AT LAST SIGHT, AT EVER AND EVER SIGHT.”
-VLADIMIR NABOKOV, LOLITA
Switch-Er-Roo
AFFAIRYTALE-Deleted Scene
The town was ghost empty. Every business seemed to close at four o’clock in the summer months when all the city dwellers fled to the lake. Except us. We’d driven back. We’d pulled it off.
Dylan was sixty minutes away and assumed Grant was romping around with an ex. Dani was with her dad for the weekend. Our divorce wasn’t final yet, but the papers would arrive any day. For now, I had two full uninterrupted days with my secret lover.
When I arrived it was late afternoon and the sun was still overhead. Walking into a dark bathroom with nothing more than a few candles was a shock to my senses. An erotic, fantastical shock. A mountainous bubble bath w
as not what I expected. Grant was not what I expected either, so it was all welcome and I was up for an adventure. The familiar smell of sensual jasmine and vanilla misted up from the towering bubble peaks like clouds drifting through the Swiss Alps.
“It worked. You’re a genius,” Grant said as he pulled two clean towels from below the bathroom sink and set them beside the tub.
“It’s the ol’ switch-er-roo.”
“Yes!” he exclaimed as he threw his head back laughing, “The ol’ switch-er-roo. Honey . . . you’re so perfect.”
“No, you are.” I admired his bare, sun-soaked torso with my fingertips as he poured us each a shallow glass of Cabernet.
“Yes. I am a genius.” He turned to me with a seductive smile then wrapped me in his signature hold; arm over arm, tighter and tighter like a boa constrictor. “I’m a genius for waiting for you.”
He handed me a glass and toasted to his words.
He is the real deal whether you feel it or not.
I reminded myself of this daily.
Steam rolled off the alpine peaks, the room flickered from the candles and shadows danced on the walls as we stepped into the tub. “I put a playlist together for us. It has classical piano, ballroom songs, and reggae, of course. I put all of your favorites on here.”
The masculine silhouette sitting opposite me was sexy and charming. It was almost sickening how good-looking and perfect he was. Seriously. Another reason for it not to be real. How could one person be so iconic? How could I possibly measure up?
He leaned back and guided me in front of him, watching my every move and taking in the show. “Honey, you forgot to take off your bra.”
“I’m going to porky pig this one.”
“You know, T-shirt, bare ass.” I sat in front of him, my bra already absorbing the wetness. “Trust me, it’s better this way.” In the event he’d only seen young, non-childbearing perky breasts with perfect small nipples, it’d be better for both of us if I left something to the imagination for the first few years.
“Honey, I’m sure it’s fine, and really, I don’t care.”
Forever After Page 4
