“That seems kind of mean.”
“Well, it’s far meaner for people who don’t love them to keep them in a home where they will not be properly cared for.”
“What do you do when you run out of space here? Do you euthanize them?” Alice had never yelled the word euthanize before. Doing so made the definition of the word visible in her head.
“We try to find good homes for the dogs,” the officer shouted in response. “That’s our goal.” Alice followed him around the room, looking at each dog as she went. Many of them had a pit bull look about them, which, while not surprising, was still startling to see in the faces and body shapes of one dog after another. “I know you said you’re interested in a large, mature dog. But I do have some puppies in the corner crate if you want to see them.”
Alice looked in the direction the officer was pointing. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s have a look.” And a second after they stopped in front of the cage, Alice knew she’d found her next dog. There were six of them, all brown and white, with the squared off heads of Labrador retrievers, and the soft, pink bellies of most puppies. “Tell me about them.”
“They were dropped off a few nights ago. As far as we can tell, they’re about ten weeks old. The people leaving them knew enough, I guess, to keep them with their mother that long,” said the officer, unlocking the crate door. “Would you like to hold one?”
Alice smiled at this question, knowing, as the officer knew, that if she held a puppy, she would most likely be taking her home. Get the merchandise into the hands of the customer was one of the golden rules of sales. Whenever she walked into the bookstore downtown and asked for a particular item, she was led to it, where she then watched as it was pulled from its place on the shelf and placed in her hands. When Alice had worked at their running store, she had always put the shoe in the buyer’s hands. Alice accepted the warm and furry bundle of moving legs. She held the puppy up to her face, touching her dry nose to its wet one. As if to correct this, to make them the same, the dog licked hers.
“She’s a beagle mix,” the officer said.
“A beagle? She looks nothing like a beagle.”
“I thought the same thing. But the people who dropped her off said in their note taped to the fence that the mother was a beagle.”
“Will she be able to run with me?”
The officer smiled. “You ever hear of a fox hunt?”
“I’ll take her.”
AUGUST
CHAPTER 44
“She is so much fun!” said Alice, biting into a veggie burger. “Dave calls her my fourth daughter. And Linda calls her my third, telling me the puppy has definitely replaced her on my list of priorities.”
“Ha!” said Joan. “I love that.”
“When do you start puppy school?” asked Ellie.
“Next week. I can hardly wait.”
Joan poured more ketchup onto her plate for her sweet potato fries. “Have you found your next best thing?”
“The box is definitely checked,” said Alice. “I feel ten years younger.”
“And you look it too, my friend,” said Joan, raising her hand for a high five, which Alice enthusiastically administered. Joan moved her hand, stopping it in front of Ellie’s face. Ellie looked at her. “Give me some skin, sister.”
Smiling at Joan, Ellie slapped her hand and said, “Someone’s in a good mood today.”
“Oh, I take exception to that remark,” said Joan, “because it implicitly means that I am typically not in a good mood.”
Ellie cocked her head. “That meaning was not intended.”
“Well then, yes, I am in a good mood. I finished my syllabus last night. I’ve got my first six classes totally mapped out. And both sections of my macroeconomics class are full.”
“Someone’s on fire,” said Alice.
“I hope so,” said Joan, chewing the two fries she had just put in her mouth. “We went to Stephen’s parents’ house last night, and he announced my job to the entire assemblage.”
“And?” asked Alice, hers and then Ellie’s full attention on Joan’s face.
“My mother-in-law? She actually clapped her hands.”
“She was three drinks in at this point?” asked Alice.
“No, no,” said Joan, shaking her head. “Stephen was right. Sandi is absolutely fine with her daughters-in-law working once the children are out of the house. She’d rather have me devote more time to volunteer efforts. But what she is adamantly against are women who let work take them away from raising children.”
“Thank God for that clarification,” said Alice.
“I know,” said Joan. “Not particularly forward thinking, my mother-in-law. But I was amazed that she seemed legitimately happy for me.”
“Well, I’m glad you told her,” said Ellie. “And I’m even more glad that she accepted this new stage in your life.”
“Me too,” said Joan. “I thought that I was going to have to hide the fact that I had a part time job from Stephen’s entire family.”
Joan’s words struck Ellie like a slap on the face. She sipped her water, and then, looking away from their conversation, away from Joan and Alice, said, “It’s not easy hiding things from family.”
Something in the way Ellie made this remark told both Joan and Alice that she was no longer talking about Joan’s teaching job and the reaction of the Howard family to the news.
“No, it’s not,” said Alice.
Joan ate a fry and then said, “Are you hiding something, Ellie?”
The tears that Ellie was so tired of shedding returned, pooling in her lower eyelids. She opened her mouth to speak, but her bottom lip shook so violently that she was unable to say the words she now wanted, needed to say. Alice, who was sitting next to her, wrapped her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. “What is it, El?”
Ellie pulled back and used her napkin to wipe the water from her eyes. “I’m gay,” she said. “And I need to start making some changes.”
“Okay,” said Joan immediately, more as an affirmation of Ellie’s ability to reveal something so personal than as an indication of complete comprehension.
Her quick remark surprised Ellie. “Okay what?”
“I don’t know,” said Joan. “It’s just okay.”
Ellie set her elbow down on the table and rested her head in her hand. “I’m not sure it really is going to be okay.”
“What kind of changes?” asked Alice.
Ellie used her finger to wipe a tear from her cheek. “I think I need to start living in a way that is true to who I am.”
Joan took a sip of her water and then said, “Meaning you need to end your marriage of twenty-five years.”
Ellie whispered, “Yes.” Ellie was now openly weeping. Alice and Joan both covered Ellie’s hands with theirs.
“Does he know?” asked Alice. “Does Chris know?”
“No one knows, except you two,” said Ellie. “And Diana McGuire.”
“Who’s Diana McGuire?” asked Alice.
“The woman who owns the pet store,” said Ellie. “I do her books.”
“You told her you’re gay?”
“Yes,” said Ellie. “She’s gay, too.”
“Are you in love with her?” asked Joan, handing Ellie a package of tissues from her purse.
Ellie blew her nose and took a long drink of water. “I don’t know,” she said. “I have feelings for her. And I will say that the fact that Diana was married and left her husband and was able to salvage her family life did give me some hope that I might be able to do the same.”
“It sounds like you are moving too quickly, Ellie,” said Alice. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
Ellie shook her head. “I am sure of nothing, except of who I am.”
“When did you know?” asked Joan.
“In some ways, I’ve known my whole life, since elementary school anyway. I didn’t know what it was, but at nine years old I knew I was different from the o
ther girls in my class. As I got older, I knew—but I fought it, and then I repressed it. I met Chris, who is a very nice man, and I thought I could be happy with him. But I’ve reached a point in my life where I feel I need to be honest with myself. But I am terrified.”
“What are you most afraid of?” asked Joan.
“Of deeply hurting Chris and Tim and Brandon. Of being disowned by my entire family. Of giving up the married life I’ve been living for twenty-five years. Of alienating friends who don’t understand. Of being alone. Of everything.” New tears appeared in Ellie’s eyes.
“How can we help?” asked Joan.
“You are already helping,” said Ellie. “If everyone I have to tell is half as understanding as the two of you, I will be okay.”
Alice audibly inhaled and then said, “I’m not sure I’m quite as understanding as Joan.”
Joan said, “Alice . . .”
“I understand you’re gay. What I’m having trouble with is why it’s critical to come out now, when you’ve gone this far without coming out.”
Ellie nodded her head. “That’s a fair question. Some of it has to do with the fact that gay rights have come so far. This means that being gay is much, much more acceptable now than it was twenty or thirty years ago. And I find this incredibly encouraging. But you’re right, Alice. The fact that being gay is easier now than it was when I was growing up will mean nothing to Chris.”
“I shouldn’t question you. . . .”
“You have every right to question me. I do it all the time.”
“Has Diana advised you?” asked Joan.
“A bit. Mostly, she’s told me that this is not a decision to be taken lightly, and that it’s complicated. She has a good relationship with her ex-husband and children, but that is only because she has worked very hard at it.”
“So what are you going to do?” asked Alice.
“I don’t know,” said Ellie. “I’ve told you two today, but I need to think more about Chris and my boys. About the entire Kilcullen family. I don’t know how to move forward.”
“This may sound like a foolish question,” said Joan, “but do you want us to be with you when you are ready to tell your family?”
Ellie offered Joan a slight smile. “That is a very kind offer, Joan. But this is something that I need to do by myself. I just don’t know if I have the strength to do it.”
CHAPTER 45
Every August the Howard women went on a back-to-school shopping trip. They called it that out of habit, a reference to the days when they had children in elementary school needing clothes and shoes, as well as construction paper, crayons, and colored pencils, for the start of the academic year. The term made them all laugh now, as all of their children were long out of elementary school at this point. The day started as it always did, with Jill, married to the oldest Howard boy, Raymond, picking everyone up in her Cadillac Escalade, and then driving through Dunkin’ Donuts for coffee. When they arrived at the Amtrak station, the women emerged from the car, all of them looking like they were headed into the city for a day of shopping: black pants, white tailored shirts, and colorful scarves galore. Sandi, every bit the matriarch at eighty-four that she had been when Joan first met her, led the way. And all the Howard women fell in behind her.
On the station platform, Sandi bought the business class train tickets from the automatic dispenser, proud of herself for her ability to master modern technology, and then handed them out to her daughters-in-law as carefully as if they were passes to a Broadway show. They dutifully took them and then slid them into the outside pockets of their brightly colored handbags, ranging in size from something just large enough for a wallet and a cell phone to a satchel roomy enough for the clothes and accessories needed for an overnight stay. When the train arrived at the station, they all followed Sandi to the first car behind the engine, business class, which was always, she said, less crowded than the others. They sat in seats close to one another, retrieved their tickets from their bags for the conductor who would be making his way down the aisle shortly, and set their bags down beside their crossed ankles. The train lurched forward, startling Sandi, who put a flat palm to her chest. This was something she did often, in reaction to good news or bad news, surprises, touching family memories recounted by one of her sons, lots of things really, as if there were a spring in her elbow that operated on a timer, moving her hand to her bosom every half hour or so. Sometimes, after a drink or two with Stephen, Joan imitated this motion, along with its companion, the O-shaped mouth, which always brought a smile to her husband’s face.
The chatter on the train stopped the minute they arrived at Penn Station. Sandi was all business until everyone was out of the train, off the platform, through the cavernous lobby area, and seated in a large capacity cab that could comfortably transport five women. “To Bergdorf Goodman!” she announced, prompting the daughters-in-law to repeat the words Bergdorf Goodman! as was their custom at the outset of the yearly clothing pilgrimage to New York City. From there, they always walked down Fifth Avenue to Saks and ended their excursion at Lord & Taylor. During the cab ride, Sandi gave each daughter-in-law an envelope containing twenty hundred-dollar bills to spend as she wished; the only string attached was the expectation of a timely thank-you note, which Joan always wrote and mailed the day afterward.
Of her three Howard sisters-in-law, Joan was closest to Gretchen, who was married to Elliot, the second oldest. Jill, Raymond’s wife, was an oldest child like he was and could be as driven and stubborn. She was prone to making what Joan called absolute pronouncements—that the quiche she was eating was the best in the city, or that the heels she was wearing were the most comfortable pair of shoes she had ever worn. Sometimes Joan sought Jill’s company during holiday gatherings, especially when she was wrestling with a question—because Jill would always have a ready answer. Plus she could be very funny, especially after a martini. Joan hardly ever spent time with Sylvia, who was married to Peter, the youngest Howard. Sylvia, also an oldest child, was very much like Jill, minus the sense of humor. Sylvia had smiled exactly four times in the thirty years Joan had been a Howard. Joan sought Gretchen’s company because she and Gretchen were the same age and like-minded, at least around the Howard family. They both paid enough attention to Sandi to be warmly welcomed by their mother-in-law each time they arrived at her house. They both shared stories at the dinner table that seemed to amuse the others. And they both helped Sandi clean up the kitchen after the meal. Jill and Sylvia, forever citing other obligations—whatever they might be at eight thirty on a Friday night—locked eyes with their husbands as soon as the meal was over, which caused Raymond and Peter to announce their imminent departure. Over the years, Joan and Gretchen had found each other’s eyes too, as they silently counted the seconds between the last bite of key lime pie and the scrape of Raymond’s chair pushing back from the table. One thousand one; one thousand two; one thousand three—Great dinner, Mother, he always said. Jill and I have got to scoot.
Joan and Gretchen paired off as soon as they all walked into the store, citing an urgent need to visit the ladies’ room. Jill and Sylvia, mission minded, declined, considering bio breaks an unnecessary time suck, and Sandi always “powdered her nose,” her term for urinating, before lunch. Joan and Gretchen knew these idiosyncrasies, which was the reason behind their annual suggestion. Once rid of the others, Joan and Gretchen, both lipstick freaks, could take as long as they needed in cosmetics to peruse and sample the new fall shades. On their way to the beauty department, Joan looked at her watch. With a noon departure time for their one o’clock lunch reservation at Saks, she and Gretchen had almost sixty minutes.
“It’s so good to be able to spend some time with you,” said Gretchen. “I always mean to call you for coffee, but it somehow never happens. I’m sorry about that.”
“No worries,” said Joan, reaching for a tester tube of Chante-caille, her current favorite brand. “I haven’t called you, either. Let’s both write it down and mak
e it happen.”
“Good plan—although you are going to have less free time very soon. I am so excited about your job. I think you are going to be a fantastic teacher. I’ve learned a lot from you over the years.”
Joan smiled broadly at Gretchen. “You have no idea how much I need to hear that. I have never been this nervous in my life—and that includes on my wedding day!”
Gretchen laughed. “Of course you are,” she said. “Didn’t somebody once say that if you weren’t nervous about starting a new thing, then why bother?”
“You just did,” said Joan. “What do you think of this color on me?”
“I like it. But I think you could go a shade darker.”
They solicited the help of a sales representative wearing a white coat, as if she were in the medical department of a large university rather than in cosmetics at Bergdorf Goodman. She gave them each a handful of Q-tips and tissues. Her practiced eye told her these women might try a dozen shades before making a decision. But she could also tell they were buyers.
“What about you?” asked Joan. “Do you ever think about working?”
“Doing what?” asked Gretchen. “The last time I had a job, I was just out of college.”
Joan closed one eye. “You worked in a library, right?”
Gretchen nodded her head. “I was thinking about getting a master’s degree in library science—and then I met Elliot.”
Joan had set three tubes of lipstick aside and was still searching for what she was calling her “Saturday-night shade,” as if she and Stephen went out to an event or dinner every weekend; as if, even if they did, she didn’t have a variety of lipsticks at home that matched whatever she wanted to wear. “Would you want to do that now?”
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