The Blessings of the Animals_A Novel

CHAPTER Seventeen

YOU JUST HAVE TO BE CLEAR ABOUT WHAT YOU WANT. MY TERRIER mind gnawed on the bone of my mother’s words.
What if . . . what if Bobby and I tried to mend our marriage? What would Gabby think of that?
I saddled Moonshot. And sat on his back. That’s all, I just sat. He was still a little gimpy but certainly mobile, and I wasn’t going to ride him for real. I slipped onto the saddle for fifteen seconds, then slid off.
Head tossing. Teeth gnashing. But he stood still.
I did it three more times before I made Gabriella stop studying and went to bed.
My mother’s words kept me awake.
The cats had been quiet that night, and 2 a.m. was long before their usual witching hour. It was even too early for Max to follow me to the barn. Without lifting his head, he tapped the end of his tail twice before he shut his eyes again.
I wasn’t on my guard. My mind was full of the Passier, those bite marks, our trail ride conversation. I opened the door and out rushed the three-legged cat.
“Gerald!” I called. I stepped into the dark. “Gerald, c’mere! Come back.”
I grabbed the flashlight from the back porch, but Gerald was long gone. I called and called and shone the light into bushes, the pile of wood that was once my shed, and the flower bed of the slouching St. Francis. In the barn, Biscuit grunted in mild protest at the disturbance, and Moonshot paced fretfully outside. I walked through the back pasture, rustling up nothing but three deer who rose and galloped away with my pulse.
Maybe . . . maybe the riskiest thing in the world would be to try to fix things. Part of me felt heavy at that thought, as if my bones had taken on more weight. What would it feel like for everyone to know all that crap that had passed between Bobby and me—the “dirty laundry,” as Mom had called it—and to try to forge ahead, all exposed like that?
Wouldn’t it be worth it to present Gabriella with a model like that?
What if the greatest adventure in the world was to do this right? To do it well? In this day and age—this time period in which I found myself alive on this planet—maybe we would be the boldest, bravest explorers if we tried to repair a marriage instead of throwing one away?
IN THE MORNING, I SADDLED MOONSHOT AGAIN AND SAT ON him before searching the pasture for Gerald. The tuna I’d set out for him was gone, but the footprints around it looked like raccoon, not cat. I scanned the horizon. I’d grown fond of that raggedy cat, with his broad, lionlike nose. How would he fare out there with only three legs?
After work, I searched for him again. Gingersnap, in the meantime, lorded over the house, positively swaggering everywhere she went.
I was about to get on Moonshot again that evening, when I saw Bobby’s car come up our drive. I grudgingly gave him credit for finally showing up.
I couldn’t help but gasp at the punch in my stomach of the puppy tumbling out of the car after Bobby. A floppy Boxer clambered on too-big paws beside my husband as they walked down to meet me at the barn. I wanted the puppy to steel my fickle heart against Bobby’s betrayal, but when the puppy toppled into a somersault at the slightest nudge from Max, then looked up with its tongue poking from the side of its underbite, I didn’t have a chance.
I knelt to pet the ungainly baby, who climbed onto my thighs and covered my neck with slobbery kisses.
When I looked up, Bobby was smiling. God, he’s beautiful. At his smile, my heart stuttered, then gunned with adrenaline. That was a fear rush. Why was I afraid? Because I couldn’t stop thinking of my mom’s words, of that stitched-up saddle. Could we be repaired?
“This is Zuzu.” Bobby’s eyes were bright, his expression sheepish.
Zuzu? I hid my face, ducking away from her bubblegum tongue. That name was ours, that was our private joke. Watching It’s a Wonderful Life was one of the few Christmas traditions Bobby didn’t just tolerate but actually enjoyed. We could quote dialogue from the entire film. When good news happened, we were as likely to exclaim, “Zuzu’s petals!” as “Congratulations.”
You can’t call her that! I wanted to snap as I let the puppy lick my face. That name belongs to our marriage, it doesn’t belong to Zayna. I felt like some kind of store open for Zayna to stroll through and select what she wanted. I’ll take this, and this, and this . . . until my shelves were bare.
When I was able, I looked up at Bobby.
He shrugged. “I know. I—” He opened his hands, as if helpless.
He’d never shown the slightest interest in any of our animals, but his dopey grin made it clear—he was smitten. Well, well, well. Binky had a heart after all.
The puppy spilled from my kneeling thighs, then splayed on her back, exposing her round belly for Max’s inspection.
I stood, brushing my knees, shaking away the bit of dizziness as I rose upright.
Bobby frowned at me as I unfolded before him. What did I look like?
“I’m here to talk to Gabriella. Or to try to anyway.”
“I’m glad.” My own voice startled me with its warmth, its welcome.
He looked into my face, wary at first. Then gratitude softened his eyes.
Gabriella came out the back door. “Dad?”
She ran down the path to him. As they embraced—Max and the puppy stumbling around their feet—my own arms ached to touch Bobby. See? You forgave—you decided to, as my mother had said—just as Gabby did right before my eyes.
I watched them and thought, Maybe, just maybe . . . we could do this.
But not right now. This moment was not about me.
When the two of them left for dinner, I sat on Moonshot again. I touched my heels to his ribs and he stepped away from the mounting block. I let him walk across the barn lot, then closed my hands on the reins. He halted, and I slipped my feet free of the stirrups and slid off his back.
EARLY IN THE MORNING, AN E-MAIL FROM BOBBY SAT waiting.
It was so good for me to see Gabriella. She says you never sleep or eat. I thought you looked way too thin. You’ve been on my mind and if there’s anything I can do for you, please call me. I mean that. Love, Bobby.

My face broke out in a hot, scratchy flush. I read the e-mail again.
I’d been on his mind? Please call me? Love?
I walked down to the barn at dawn.
This time, I put on a helmet and rode Moonshot around the perimeter of the barn lot. His walk was classic thoroughbred, forward and gliding, his stride long and low.
If there’s anything I can do for you.
Love.
You’ve been on my mind.
Back in the house, Gabriella scrambled eggs. “If you did my morning feed again,” she said, “then the least I can do is feed you.”
“Oh, babe, that’s sweet.” I sat down to eat the eggs. See? See me eat? I’m fine, just fine. Why did you tell your father that?
But a small, shameful slice of me wondered, If I were thin enough, would he rescue me again?
Gabriella had a stack of printed-out Internet research beside her. Her suitcase stood by the door.
I turned over a few forkfuls of eggs. “Is this tournament one night? Or two?”
It shocked me to hear my mother and myself echoed in her sigh. “One,” she said. “We’ll be back tomorrow night. I wrote it down because you don’t remember anything anymore.”
I made a face at her. What if . . . what if when she returned, I could offer her some hope?
Don’t be stupid. Don’t call him. He walked away. You already know his answer.
When she left, I waved good-bye, then dumped my eggs in the disposal.
I WAS NEVER SO RELIEVED AS WHEN MY CELL RANG LATER at the clinic and I saw Vijay’s name appear. “If I were at the Dayton Airport at seven p.m., could you pick me up?” he asked.
“Yes!” I didn’t check a clock. I didn’t need to.
“Good, because I’m at La Guardia, on a plane, and finally about to take off.”
I wanted to fall to my knees and kiss the floor. He’d closed two e-mails lately with that line: “Haraka haraka haina baraka.” I needed to ask him what that meant.
I tried to dress with care, but my clothes all felt too big and slovenly. I chose a black V-neck sweater (those clavicles) and jeans I had to belt.
I stood in the Dayton airport, waiting for a lifeboat to be tossed to me.
Vijay strolled around the corner and out toward the baggage claim. I took in his lankiness, the sureness of the sweet, bowlegged gait I used to tease him for in high school. When he saw me, the flash of his white smile against his cinnamon skin made something dissolve within me.
He engulfed me in a hug and kissed my cheek, as he always did.
Once he’d collected his suitcase and we were in my truck, he said, “You’re too thin, Cam.”
He said it simply, a scientific observation. He was the only person who could say this without raising my hackles. “I’m trying to eat. I just . . . can’t.”
“I remember that feeling. I lost about fifteen pounds when Rita left.”
“And you don’t have fifteen pounds to spare.”
“Like you have any room to talk, Miss Skeletore.”
I laughed. He used to call me that, even when I was hospitalized. It made the nurses gasp.
“You understand you have a disorder, right?” Vijay asked. “Even though you’ve managed it for years, you’re susceptible in times of trauma or stress, kind of like an addict.”
“You must be a good influence on me,” I said, “because I’m starving. Where are we going?”
He chuckled as we approached downtown. “You know what really sounds good? The grilled calamari at Tanti Baci.”
“I was craving that just the other day!”
“Great minds, you know. Wanna go? I could pretend to be your boyfriend. I’ll make out with you in front of Bobby.”
I laughed. “Oh, my God. You’re so wonderful. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Cam. I’m so sorry you’re going through this.” He reached across and put a hand on my knee. “So, what do you think? The Pine Club? Jay’s? El Meson?”
I thought a moment. “I’d go to Tanti Baci. I really want that calamari.” Bobby made it the old-world way, not thick strips of tentacle but tiny squids fried whole that you ate like popcorn.
“Really? I was kidding.”
“What, am I not allowed to go there? Am I supposed to hide?” What was I doing? This was a stupid idea and I knew it in my bones. But, maybe, if I saw Bobby again, it would be natural and easy like yesterday. It had felt so . . . good to see him.
“You’re just being Reckless Diva again,” Vijay said.
I laughed. “No, honest. It’s just I’m craving some of that food. Nothing else sounds good.”
He didn’t say anything.
“And you don’t have to make out with me.”
“Oh.” He feigned disappointment. “Well, if you change your mind, I’m willing.”
My belly fluttered. Was he just trying to make me feel good?
I drove us to Tanti Baci, but Vijay said, “I’m not eating here. I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but if you want to have dinner with me, we’re eating somewhere else.”
I was half-relieved, half-disappointed to be saved from my own childish willfulness.
We ended up—at Vijay’s request—at another Italian place, one I’d always liked, but which after Tanti Baci had opened felt disloyal for me to patronize.
The hostess led us to a romantic corner table by a window. Vijay held out a chair for me, and we ordered a bottle of Chianti and grilled calamari.
And, as I had done all my life, I told Vijay everything. Zayna. The puppy. The trail ride with my mother. The scarred Passier saddle. Gabriella’s marriage ban.
My new plan to salvage my marriage and make it better, like my parents had.
Vijay unfolded his napkin with his huge hands. He’d grown into his hands, but they used to look all out of proportion to the rest of him. He spread the napkin on his lap, then said, “Cami. Are you sure you want to offer him this? Think about what he did. He did a shitty, hurtful thing to you. I mean, marriages end. Relationships end. The reason this one ended is one thing that only you and Bobby will ever know or understand. But how it ended? That’s another thing altogether. The how it ended puts Bobby on my shit list until the end of time.”
I thought about how it had felt the day Bobby left. Opening that sock drawer.
If there’s anything I can do for you.
Love.
The waitress brought our wine. After the opening and pouring ritual, Vijay raised his glass. I raised mine, too, even though my hand trembled. “To surviving life.”
“Life,” I repeated. This was really happening, messy and surreal. Vijay’s “Are you sure?” left me unsteady. I set my glass down and tucked my shaking fingers under my thighs. “This sure wasn’t what I thought would happen,” I said. “I’ve been dumped by my husband like a shelter dog. My life is falling apart.”
Vijay frowned his disagreement.
I wanted to drink my wine, but I didn’t want Vijay to see the telltale tremors in my hands. “I feel like such a failure,” I admitted.
“You can’t fail a test you weren’t allowed to take,” Vijay said.
I shivered, and hoped he didn’t notice. Why was it so cold in here?
“Your husband left you for a child waitress and you’re feeling that you failed?”
I let that sink in. I thought about Bobby’s e-mail, but it suddenly seemed so obviously hopeless. I couldn’t think of the reasons I’d gathered for why I should try to fix the marriage. My brain felt fuzzy even though I’d had only one sip of my wine.
“You’re confused and hurt, Cami. Don’t rush into this. I don’t think Bobby deserves it.”
Simply smelling the calamari when it came brought my appetite to life. The meat melted on my tongue. Vijay took a bite, too, and for a moment we simply savored. A ravenous urge overcame me to consume a plateful of this stuff, plus the entire bread basket.
“What about you, Cami?” Vijay asked. “Were you happy? Really?”
The question turned my one bite of calamari to cat litter in my mouth. “I knew we had problems,” I said. “I knew we had flaws. But . . . until that morning he left, I would’ve told anyone who asked that we had a happy marriage.”
Vijay tilted his head. “But did you hear what you just said? You would have told anyone who asked that you were happy, but that’s not answering the question: Were you happy?”
How did he do that?
“Do you know how many years I’ve listened to you defend him and make excuses for him?”
My neck and cheeks itched.
“You were a master at rationalizing any insensitive thing he did.”
I longed to scratch the blossoms I knew were crawling across my face.
“Why did you spend so much energy apologizing for him? You’d always have some sweet explanation of why he was the way he was, why it was okay with you. It made me sick.”
The calamari steamed like a punishment before me. I knew I couldn’t touch it. “Why didn’t you ever say anything before?” I asked. “You sound like you hated him!”
“I never hated him . . . although I might now for the cowardly way he did this. I could never say anything to you because you loved him, Cami. I couldn’t risk losing my friendship with you, so I kept my mouth shut.”
Dizziness sparkled in my head.
“So, let me take that back,” Vijay said. “About hating Bobby now. I think I may like him better now than I ever have before. I think he just did you the biggest favor of your life.”
“Favor? Vijay, I— Remember, he saved me once. He—”
“No,” Vijay said. “I think you rescued him, just like you try to rescue everybody. He was your shelter dog.” He took my hand.
My face felt as though I stood before the pizza oven at Tanti Baci.
“Cami, don’t you see? Your life isn’t falling apart. It’s about to fall together.”