Dingo's Recovery

by Genevieve Fortin

  Unfortunately Amanda’s nervousness seemed to reach new heights as they entered the state fair grounds and Joyce prepared to park. Her breathing became loud and fast and when Joyce glanced at her she saw that her eyes were shut tight. Joyce parked the car and stopped the engine before she turned to Amanda and placed her hand on a fist that she’d tightened around the strap of her messenger bag. “Are you okay? What’s happening? Please tell me how I can help.”

  As soon as Joyce touched her Amanda started taking deeper breaths. Soon she felt the hand she was covering relax. As Amanda released her grip on the leather strap, she dared to caress Amanda’s hand with her palm. She waited for Amanda to open her eyes and face her.

  “I’m better now. I’m sorry. I don’t do well with crowds and going to the fair is making me very anxious. I should have told you before we left, but I thought I had it under control.”

  “Oh my god, my poor child. Do you want to do something else instead? I don’t want to force you out of your comfort zone. I simply want to spend a little time with you.”

  Amanda’s smile softened her features and made her look calmer. Joyce hoped it wasn’t an illusion. She felt such guilt for putting her through this misery. “That’s what I want too. I’m okay now. We can go.”

  “Are you sure?” Joyce asked as she squeezed her hand.

  “I’m sure. Just…” Amanda looked down again. Joyce placed her finger under the young woman’s chin, tenderly moving her face back up toward her and looking into her eyes.

  “Just what? Say it.”

  “Just don’t leave me alone, okay?”

  “Of course not,” Joyce said with a smile, sighing with relief at the easy request. “I’ve got you, okay?” Amanda nodded and they got out of the car.

  An hour later as they walked through the agricultural exhibits, stopping to pet animals here and there, Amanda had almost forgotten how she’d made a fool of herself in the car. Despite the rough beginning of their adventure at the fair, the day was turning out to be quite fun. She was relieved when Joyce confessed she wasn’t a fan of scary rides and would be happier hanging out around animals. She’d probably guessed being around horses, cows, and other farm animals would make her feel more comfortable with the crowd. She was grateful for her sensitivity.

  Amanda was impressed with her overall intuition as well. Every time she’d begun to feel anxious in the crowd surrounding them she’d felt Joyce’s hand on her arm, shoulder, or back, and the contact always had a calming effect on her anxiety. Her touch caused other pleasant reactions in Amanda’s body too, but she was choosing to ignore those for now, trying to avoid more reasons to be anxious. Today was a lovely day with a lovely woman, nothing more.

  Actually, Joyce was beyond lovely. Even wearing jeans and a simple white blouse, she remained the embodiment of elegance, yet she didn’t look out of place in the middle of farm animals. She was the perfect mix of grace and simplicity which allowed Amanda to be at ease with her at the same time as she was attracted to her. It was a sensation she’d never known before, both intriguing and reassuring.

  They walked by a food stand and Joyce’s eyes lit up. “I’m dying for some cotton candy. That’s the best part of the fair. Do you want some?”

  “Sure,” Amanda agreed, giggling at her excitement.

  Joyce grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the stand. She ordered pink cotton candy for herself and turned to Amanda, “What color will you have?”

  “I’m guessing she wants pink too. Like her mother,” the man behind the counter declared with a playful wink. He wore a white hat over gray hair and smiled through a thick mustache. He seemed friendly and oblivious to the faux pas he’d just committed.

  Amanda glanced at Joyce, whose expression had darkened. “I think I will have pink, like my friend,” she said to the man, putting more emphasis on the second part of her declaration. The man nodded and got started on their cotton candy cones without another word.

  They left the stand and walked side by side with their pink cotton candy cones. Amanda noticed theirs were larger than most and thought that the man’s generosity was most likely his way to appease a guilty conscience. They walked quietly for a minute or two, focusing on the cotton candy, which they picked with their fingers before letting it melt in their mouths.

  Joyce’s silence worried Amanda. She seemed uncharacteristically contemplative. “I guess he’s right. I could be your mother,” she finally said. “How old are you? Twenty-five? Thirty?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “See? I would have given birth at twenty-four. That’s perfectly plausible.”

  Amanda quickly calculated that made Joyce fifty-six years old. Her mother was forty the last time she’d seen her twelve years ago, but she’d already looked so much older than Joyce. The thought escaped her mind before she could stop it. “You look much younger than my mother, if that makes you feel better.”

  Joyce laughed. Her laughter was so free, loud and unrestrained, so unlike her own low, hesitant, and contained laughter. “As a matter of fact, that does make me feel better, thank you.”

  “Great. Besides, I don’t care about your age.” Joyce smiled, but Amanda wasn’t certain she believed her. “It’s true. I feel comfortable with you. That’s what matters.”

  “You might be right. I’m glad you feel comfortable with me, but I can’t keep wondering how many of these people think like that cotton candy man. That I’m your mother. Or your aunt.” Joyce picked more cotton candy with her fingers but hesitated before putting it in her mouth. “You know, my sister thinks being friends with a woman your age might not be appropriate. I’m sure Evelyn would agree with her.”

  “Evelyn?”

  “My wife.”

  Amanda slowed down as she processed the information she’d been given. Joyce was married. She was unavailable. She really wanted nothing more than friendship and it would stay that way. Her heart broke instantly and she realized how much hope she’d put in this budding relationship. Too much hope.

  “Your wife?” she simply said, unable to add more without betraying the extent of her dismay.

  “Yes.” Joyce stopped and looked at her. “Are you okay? Do you have a problem with me being a lesbian?”

  “Oh no,” Amanda quickly answered when she realized what Joyce might be thinking. “Of course not. I just didn’t know you were married. I mean, you always come to the clinic alone with Dingo,” she said, rambling on nervously until she felt the warmth of Joyce’s hand on her arm.

  “I was married to be exact. Evelyn died three years ago. I live alone with Dingo,” Joyce explained. The instant relief overwhelmed Amanda. It wasn’t normal or healthy for her to feel so happy about another woman’s death, she chastised herself. “So you’re okay with the fact that I’m gay, then? It’s important for you to be if we’re going to be friends.”

  “It’s okay,” Amanda confirmed. She hesitated before she continued, recognizing that she’d never told anyone about her own sexuality, mostly because she’d never needed to before. “I’m gay too, Joyce. So believe me, it’s really okay.”

  “Good,” Joyce said as she squeezed her arm. “That’s really good.” Amanda couldn’t decipher what she saw in Joyce’s smile and in her eyes in that moment. Satisfaction, perhaps. Relief, certainly. Joyce sure seemed very happy about Amanda’s coming out, which told her she might have been right to put such high hopes in their new friendship after all. Joyce was single and she seemed suspiciously delighted to find out Amanda was gay. Those were good reasons to hope, weren’t they?

  They stayed to watch the horse-pulling contest but left before dinner. Joyce declared that although she wished they could stay it was probably a better idea to leave before the crowd started gathering for the country music concert that was scheduled that evening. Amanda was touched by her regard for her anxiety and agreed it would be safer to leave, yet she missed her the second she got out of the Subaru on Franklin Street. They hadn’t made plans to meet again, but she found consol
ation in knowing they had an appointment to change Dingo’s bandage the following Friday.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amanda sat on Doug’s deck on Wednesday night, wondering what had gotten into her. He’d invited her over for dinner a couple of times since he’d threatened to do so on her birthday, but she’d managed to come up with excuses on both occasions. When he’d asked again on Monday, however, she’d accepted without hesitation. She didn’t know if her change of heart was due to newly found courage after the overall success of her outing at the fair with Joyce or to the building desire to get this mandatory dinner over with, but here she was, eating veggie burgers with Doug and his family.

  Fortunately, Doug’s wife was a real word-mill. She never stopped talking and she didn’t seem to care if anyone listened. It made it easy on Amanda; all she needed to do was nod or insert a simple “mhm” once in a while to keep the monologue going. She thought that quality of Susan’s was most likely one of the reasons Doug had married her. She freed him from having to make conversation ever again in his whole life. Smart man, she mused.

  But as she listened to Susan she had to admit her qualities weren’t limited to her verbosity. She was also a very attractive petite woman with beautiful blue eyes and blond hair. Most importantly the abundant words coming out of her mouth betrayed nothing but kindness and generosity. She didn’t talk to complain about people or judge them as it was often the case with women who talked that much. She talked about the poverty of the families she worked with as a social worker and the obstacles they lived through every single day. She talked about social issues and ways to overcome them. Her speech was engaging, admirable, and Amanda felt better about her own soul just listening to her.

  As a result, an evening Amanda had been dreading was turning out to be surprisingly enjoyable. Which is why she seriously considered making her escape when Susan received an unexpected call and had to excuse herself due to a work emergency. Before leaving, she asked Doug to serve dessert and ordered them to keep enjoying the evening without her. As she prepared to make her excuses, Noah spoke up.

  “Mom made strawberry shortcake.”

  It was the first time Amanda had heard the boy’s voice. She wondered if he appreciated his mother’s nonstop talking as much as she and Doug did. Probably not, she figured.

  “Strawberry shortcake is my favorite,” she said to the boy who smiled with pride. He had his mother’s smile. He also had his mother’s blond hair, but the blue of his eyes was the same aquamarine as his father’s. He’d break hearts for sure.

  “Good, I’ll go get it, then,” Doug announced before he disappeared inside the bungalow. Amanda had seen the house only briefly before being escorted to the back deck with a cold beer, but the little she’d seen had been enough to show her that though modest it was warm and cozy. The kitchen hadn’t been updated in at least twenty years. The beige couch dividing the living room from the dining room looked like it was from the same era. So did the huge TV set and the green carpet. Everything seemed clean and in its place, but the couple obviously didn’t care about showing off the latest decor and technological advancements.

  Doug came back with dessert and three plates and started serving the cake.

  “You’ll see. My mom’s is the best strawberry shortcake ever,” Noah said before he attacked his large portion.

  “I don’t doubt it,” Amanda said with a chuckle before she took a smaller bite of her own cake. “Wow. You were not kidding. It’s really yummy.”

  “Told you so,” the boy replied with a smile, a dollop of whipped cream on his chin. Amanda glanced at Doug’s plate and wasn’t surprised to see mostly strawberries covering a thin slice of cake. He ate in silence, letting his son replace his wife as the conversationalist of the house. The situation was somewhat awkward but she enjoyed Noah’s enthusiasm. “We’re going to the fair this weekend to see the demolition derby. Do you like the demolition derby, Amanda?”

  “Ouch, that sounds a little noisy. I think I’ll stick to the cows.”

  “There are plenty of those too, you know. And horses. And tractors! Do you like tractors?”

  “Yeah, tractors are awesome,” she said to please the boy. His smile made her smile automatically. “There are really big ones, you’ll see. I was there last weekend.”

  “You were? But Dad said you don’t have kids.”

  Doug shifted position in his chair and cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with his son’s revelation, as if the fact that she didn’t have kids was a big secret. “The fair is not only for kids, Noah.”

  “Did you go alone?” Noah asked, apparently unable to imagine Amanda at the fair for some reason.

  “I went with a friend.”

  “A friend? But Dad said you don’t have friends.” This time Doug blushed with embarrassment, the red on his face deepening as Amanda burst out in laughter.

  “Your dad’s right. I don’t have many friends because I’m new in Bangor. But I went to the fair with a new friend,” she explained to Noah before she turned to Doug. “Joyce Allen. It was her way to thank me for taking care of Dingo. It was a nice gesture.”

  “Is Dingo a cat?” Noah asked, demanding Amanda’s attention back before she could see Doug’s reaction. She hadn’t thought going out with a client might be an issue until she’d heard herself mention her outing with Joyce to Doug.

  “A dog.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He hurt his leg and he needs bandages for a while, but he’ll get better.”

  “Because you fixed him?”

  “That’s right, in a way,” Amanda said with a smile.

  “You and my dad are heroes,” Noah announced before pushing a large piece of cake into his mouth with his fork. By now whipped cream had made it to his nose.

  “If you say so,” Amanda said with a giggle as she turned back to Doug, who looked lost in his thoughts. “Is it a problem, Doug?”

  He opened his eyes wide and turned to her as if she’d awakened him from a deep sleep. “Huh? What?”

  “That I went to the fair with Ms. Allen. Is that a problem?”

  “Oh that? No, no, of course not. It’s just…”

  “What is it, Doug?”

  He stared at the strawberries on his plate for what seemed like hours before he finally answered, “I’m surprised you could be friends with a woman like Joyce Allen, that’s all.” Before Amanda could ask him to explain, he turned to Noah, who’d finished his dessert. “Take your empty plate to the sink and go wash your face, all right? You look like a snowman with whipped cream all over your face like that.” Noah laughed at his father’s analogy and obeyed, leaving the table with his plate and taking it inside the house. “Sorry, I didn’t want him to hear what I’m going to say next. Kids repeat everything, you know.”

  “I’ve heard,” Amanda agreed, wondering what Doug had to say. She’d never heard him say anything negative about anyone so it had to be important. “So why are you so surprised I could be friends with Joyce Allen?”

  “I’m not here to choose your friends, Amanda. Let me be clear on that first and foremost. But I think you should be careful with a woman like Joyce Allen.”

  “Okay, but why? Not because she’s gay, I hope, because…”

  “God no,” he interrupted. “I hope you know me better than that. I couldn’t care less about Joyce Allen’s sexuality. Or yours, for that matter,” he added before he cleared his throat nervously.

  Amanda felt her face heat up, flustered. Doug was apparently a lot more perceptive than she would have guessed. “Good. That’s a relief. But what is it then?”

  Doug sighed, still hesitant to reveal the information he had, yet evidently wanting to share it with Amanda. He started at last, focused on his plate as he spoke softly to make sure Noah wouldn’t hear.

  “I sat on a charity committee with Joyce Allen a few years ago. She was there with her wife, Evelyn Graham, and her sister, Barbara Nichols. It was my first charity committee without
Susan—she can’t say yes to all of them or she’d never be home—and let’s say they made my experience hell. I’d never met three women with a snootier or more condescending attitude. They were so judgmental. They judged the families we were there to help as much as they judged the rest of us sitting on the committee. They were there to help their social standing, no one else. That much was clear. We ended up organizing a charity dinner that cost so much money there was almost nothing left for the families that money was meant for. All to put out a show that was up to their standards.

  “I was left with a bad taste in my mouth and when Joyce Allen brought her dog to my clinic a year ago I was tempted to tell her to go to hell, but Susan reminded me to be charitable. Apparently she does give a lot of money to organizations Susan volunteers for. But I don’t trust her kind, Amanda, and I think you should be careful. She’s not the type to be your friend unless she needs something from you. Remember that.”

  Amanda had never heard Doug talk so much or look so angry. It was a quiet anger, but it was deeply rooted. She couldn’t imagine the Joyce Allen he was describing was the same woman who’d taken her to the fair. It didn’t add up.

  “Thank you for the warning, but I swear the woman you’re talking about and the one I know sound like two completely different women. People do change, you know. She lost her wife a few years ago. That’s enough to change a person, isn’t it?”

  Doug looked up from his plate to meet her hopeful gaze. “Maybe. I hope you’re right, but be careful anyway. I don’t think people that selfish are capable of a complete one-eighty.”

  “Amanda, do you want to play a video game with me?” Noah had appeared at the patio door with a clean face to make his excited invitation. He seemed eager to play with her and she didn’t want to hear more of Doug’s stories about Joyce. He’d already succeeded in placing some doubt in her mind and she hated it.