The Blessings of the Animals_A Novel

CHAPTER Forty-Three

THE WEATHER GREW WARMER, LUNA GREW FATTER, AND Hank grew thinner.
Olive became more frantic about the wedding, but at salsa class, at least, Olive and Nick never argued. Hank and Helen continued to come as Hank began his chemo—and for all but one class Hank even danced. His hair thinned after the second cycle but wasn’t entirely gone (although Helen told me it filled the shower drain and came off in her hands). He and Helen held a focus, an intention so bright it sometimes blinded me to look at them. They talked of the future, of Olive and Nick’s wedding, of next year’s garden, of where they’d dance. Rather than denial, it seemed like determination. When that determination was so sharp it cut me, Dubey would sense it and gently ease the wound. His timing was impeccable.
I began to doubt I truly wanted to have a new partner. Not yet anyway. There were moments I thought, Good God, what did I just do, turn away the best single man in the world?
Other times I’d break out in cold chills at the close call.
And at yet other moments I was smitten with Dubey like a schoolgirl.
Aurora said it best one day. I was in her house, with her two greyhounds lying at my feet and her luscious paella in a bowl before me. “I look around sometimes,” she mused, tapping her bowl with her spoon, “and I think, What would a man add to this picture? Most of the time, I can’t think of any way he wouldn’t detract from it. When I find the guy who enriches the picture, then fine. In the meantime, though, my life is pretty damn good.”
When Gabriella earned the place of valedictorian, her humble response was, “Great. Another speech? It’ll be easy after the wedding one.”
Bobby and his Vegas bride parted ways after just four months. “Separated,” Olive said. “Figuring some things out.”
“Dad,” Gabriella said, rolling her eyes. “What is he doing?”
Vijay was seeing someone else. I learned this in a grocery store aisle, where I crossed paths with Shivani, who blushed and burst into tears when she saw me.
“Shivani, what is it?” She wiped her eyes with the end of her sari and told me. She and Lalit had met the woman when they’d gone to New York for Easter. Her name was Tara, and she was one of the producers of Vijay’s TV show.
I felt trampled, humbled, undone to recognize that Vijay perhaps wasn’t interested in marrying me, but in simply being married again.
I had to go to my church to recover from that news. I’d wanted to scratch Moonshot’s tail but brushed Muriel and Luna instead. Try anything, I’d asked. I guess this was my answer.
I’d learned so much about myself in this past year. Were these men learning anything?
BOBBY CALLED. “HOW’S HANK DOING?”
I filled him in, wondering why he couldn’t find the courage to call Hank himself. Once upon a time our families had vacationed together, for God’s sake.
When I tried to picture going through a catastrophic illness with Bobby, I felt claustrophobic.
“Hey,” I said. “Gabby told me about you and Lydia . . . separating. I’m sorry.”
After a guarded pause, he said, “Thanks.”
“Can I ask you what that was about? I mean, was it really only two days and you were ready to marry again?”
When he spoke, his voice was honest, naked in some new way. “I hate to be alone, Cam.”
It wasn’t anger but bewilderment that surged through me. “Then why did you leave?”
Without changing his tone of voice, he said, “I felt alone a lot when we were married.”
Clarity—immediate, miraculous. “I know what you mean,” I said. “I felt that way, too.”
We were silent, but it felt easy, amiable.
“I’m trying to learn from all this, you know?” I said. “To work on myself.”
“You seem like you’re doing great.” I could picture us in the living room, feet up, with glasses of wine after a long day. “I, um . . . I’m trying to work on myself, too. I think I might finally sell the restaurant.”
A floating sensation lifted me. “Bobby, that’s wonderful. Good for you. That’s brave.”
He laughed a self-deprecating laugh, but I could tell he was pleased. “It might be f*cking nuts more than brave. I could end up completely broke just in time for Gabby to be in college.”
“I doubt that. We’ll figure it out.”
It was odd to say we, but there’d always be a we because of Gabby.
“I just need to get enough money to buy some time,” Bobby said. “You know, to figure out what I’m supposed to be doing with my life.”
I felt a twinge of sorrow at the fact that he hadn’t felt able to do this with me, but the sorrow now seemed as old as the faint ridge of scar where Moonshot’s teeth had once crushed my skin.
Bobby cleared his throat and said, “I was hoping to come get Zuzu. If, um . . . if that’s okay.”
I smiled. “Of course.” I sincerely believed Zuzu might help him. He wouldn’t be alone, but perhaps he could stay out of another disastrous relationship long enough to reflect and learn something. Learn anything. Learn to at least make a new mistake. I felt hopeful that maybe his life would open into space and light like mine had, that so much heartbreak and disruption might lead to two happier lives.
I DID ERRANDS FOR HANK AND HELEN AS HANK PROCEEDED through chemotherapy. I walked dogs, cleaned gutters, mowed grass, took cars for oil changes, and grocery shopped. His oncologist marveled at Hank’s plucky endurance, and I was determined that when Hank felt well, he and Helen could do what they wanted to do.
They were nearly always smiling. I often heard them laugh.
“Anything. Anytime,” I said to them both whenever I left. “Day or night.”
ONE DAY AT THE CLINIC, AS I SAT IN MY OFFICE BETWEEN appointments, Gabby came storming out of the kennel and slammed herself into the bathroom.
I got up from my desk, crossed the hall, and tapped on the bathroom door. “You okay?”
“God, Mom,” she said through the door. “Can’t a person have some privacy?”
For the rest of that afternoon, she and Tyler were back to their old stiff dance of avoiding eye contact. Although Tyler blushed every time she was near him, the tables seemed turned and it was Gabby who looked knocked down and trampled this time.
Once she and I got in the car to go home, it didn’t take long to get the story. Immediately upon closing her car door, Gabby wailed, “Tyler is taking Amy to the prom!”
I studied my daughter for a moment. As gently as I could I asked, “Why shouldn’t he, sweetie?”
“Because I love him! We should be going to prom! Everyone knows it!”
I didn’t start the car. Like in triage, I assessed what Gabby needed first: comfort. I hugged her as she cried into my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said, stroking her hair.
Once her breathing returned to somewhat normal, I could start other treatment. “Babe, how was Tyler supposed to know you love him?”
She sniffled.
“You’ve spent nearly a year convincing yourself that you didn’t love him, and in the process, I think you managed to finally convince Tyler to give up.”
“But nobody believed me! Everyone knew we’d end up together. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
“Things don’t work like that, babe. Nothing ends up how it’s ‘supposed to be’ unless you make them how you want them to be.”
She leaned her head back against the passenger seat. “Oh, I messed this up so bad.”
“Most mess-ups can be fixed.”
“But he already asked her! Amy said yes! I can’t believe she’d say yes!”
“Don’t hate me for saying this, but why shouldn’t she say yes? Tyler’s a fun, great guy.”
Silence.
“Most mess-ups can be fixed,” I repeated.
“How? They’re already going to prom together and he’s too nice to un-ask her.”
“Prom’s just one night. I’m talking about the bigger mess-up. You might not get your prom, but if you’re honest about your feelings, you might get what you really want, which is to have Tyler back in your life, right?”
Eventually I started the car. After stopping for ice cream—which everyone knows can ease heartache—we went home. I kept thinking that perhaps I should take my own advice.
I KNEW THAT BOBBY AND I HAD BEGUN TO UNRAVEL WHEN we’d stopped talking, stopped telling each other the truth. So, on the first really warm spring Saturday in late April—that first day people sit out in the sun, shed long sleeves, wear shorts that bare white winter skin, those days that make you want to drink the sunshine—I packed a picnic and drove out to Dubey’s guest cottage. He was playing piano as I arrived, which trickled out through the open windows. I waited until he finished to say, “Lovely,” through the screen.
He spun around on his piano bench. “Oh. Hey, Cam.” He let me in and kissed me, but when his eyes went to the picnic basket, his jaw tightened.
“I thought I could entice you away on a picnic. To celebrate beautiful days.”
He paused.
“You should’ve called.” He laughed, but the sound was forced.
I set the basket down and said, “You’ve just shown up at my place before to whisk me away somewhere. I loved it.”
He frowned. “I just . . . I don’t think—” He stammered a moment, then said, as if he’d been wanting to say it but holding back, “I’m not comfortable with this, Cami.”
I sat down. I gestured for him to do the same, but he didn’t. “We need to talk. You’re not comfortable with me? Or you’re not comfortable with not being in control of our plans?” To my surprise I wasn’t angry. I looked at the gashes hacked out of his piano legs and couldn’t be.
He shook his head. “Every time a woman says, ‘We need to talk,’ the relationship is doomed.”
I laughed. “I personally think if two people don’t talk about their feelings, a relationship is doomed. I’m pretty confused by how things are playing out with us. Confused and a bit irritated, to be honest.”
“I’ve been honest, Cami,” he said. He still didn’t sit down. “I’ve always said I didn’t want another relationship. I’ve been as clear as I could be that I’m not going down that path again.”
“That’s true,” I said. “You did. But your actions didn’t match your words. You’d say ‘never again,’ but you’d be sweet and romantic and give me great gifts and lots of attention. We’ve slept together, Dubey.”
“I knew that was a mistake.”
“Wow. Really?” I tried to be kind, gentle. If only he could see how afraid he was. “I didn’t think it was a mistake. I thought it was pretty damn nice.”
“It was nice,” he said, suddenly mortified. “I didn’t mean it wasn’t—I just meant it was a mistake because . . . because you can’t leave it at that. Now you show up and act like you own my time, my schedule.”
“Asking you to come eat some cheese on a hillside with me is not trying to own your time.”
“But that’s where it will lead.” He paced. “That’s how it is with relationships, with marriage.”
“Marriage? I’m asking you to go on a picnic.”
“But I know how it will turn out.”
“Based on what? Your marriage? That’s just one example.”
He finally sat—but on the piano bench across the room from me. “I thought you ‘got it’ when you told me about turning down Vijay’s proposal. I thought you wanted to be independent, to live your own life. When you’re with somebody, you can’t do that, not with real freedom. You’re always . . . you’ve always got . . .” He paused, as if searching for an image. His face brightened. “It’s like a horse, right? If you’re with someone, it’s like someone always has a hand on one rein, keeping you checked.”
I wanted to laugh but managed not to. What the hell? That didn’t even make sense! Who rides holding one rein? If you did that you’d just turn in circles.
Oh.
That’s exactly what I was doing, wasn’t I?
I stood and retrieved my basket. “I’m really glad I met you, Dubey.” I wanted to kiss him, perform some farewell gesture, something, but his stiff posture didn’t welcome that. “You crossed my path when I needed you most. Thank you for being such a great dance partner.”
He seemed confused, wary even, at my kindness. “We can still do stuff like that. We’re going to dance at Nick and Olive’s wedding this weekend, right?”
I thought about being snide and throwing his own game back at him, saying “We’ll see” or “That could be nice” without giving him a definite answer, but instead I said, “No, Dubey. I don’t think so.”
He looked sad, even though I’d never officially asked him to be my date. Looks like I’d be a free agent at the wedding, which suited me just fine.
Besides, all that riding in circles had made me dizzy. I needed to get my balance.
“DO YOU HAVE YOUR WEDDING SPEECH?” I ASKED GABRIELLA as we drove to the rehearsal dinner.
“I’m almost done.”
My stomach bottomed out at her nonchalance. “It’s the rehearsal,” I said. “They’re going to want you to read it.”
“I think we just hit our marks, right?” she asked. “It’s not like they’ll actually say the vows tonight. Lighten up. It’ll be fine.”
I took deep breaths and reminded myself, This was not my problem.
“You’ve got straw in your hair, Mom.”
“Great.” I looked in the rearview mirror, trying to see it.
“God, Mom, watch the road! I’ll get it!” Gabby combed through my hair. I understood why Moonshot loved it. I hoped Ginger indulged him often. “Jeez. Can’t take you anywhere.”
“I was just trying to look at Luna’s udder,” I said, “She’s so short!”
“You really think she’s close?”
I nodded. Finally. Just tonight, crouching down in the clean deep straw, I’d seen “waxing”—opaque white liquid—on her teats. My books said waxing occurred “anytime from forty-eight to four hours before birth.” I’d called Dr. Coatney, who’d warned that Luna might seem anxious, paw the ground, and get up and down frequently. I figured we had time to spare, since she stood serenely eating all the hay I’d put before her.
“Your grandparents are going to check on her while we’re at the rehearsal dinner. They promise to call if she starts. Do I look okay? No other straw? I don’t smell like horses, do I?”
She laughed. “You always smell like horses.”
I frowned. “I do?” That’s what was on my mind as I went into the rehearsal.
Gabriella was right. All we had to do was hit our marks. No one said vows, gave the sermon, or read poems. She was off the hook. Was I the only one nervous?
I was last up the aisle, before the bride. I was paired with Nick’s brother, a very attractive, funny best man. I spent most of my time chatting with him as we waited, to avoid having to talk to Bobby. Although he and I had had an honest phone conversation, it still felt awkward being in a room with him.
Everyone asked me about Hank. “He’s doing great,” I told them. “He’s managing really high doses his oncologist didn’t think he could.” Helen had originally been in the bridal party but had bowed out, preferring to sit with Hank at the ceremony. Olive was gracious, although Mimi had mumbled about how changing plans on the bride was rude and made the sides of the wedding party uneven.
The dinner seemed endless.
I kept hoping Luna would go into labor so I’d have an excuse to leave.
Alas, she didn’t. Once we were home, we found Mom and Dad camped out in the straw, with wine and cheese, on cushions they’d brought from home.
“I don’t think it’s tonight,” Dad said, pushing his reading glasses up to his forehead.
I looked at the donkey, shaking my head. “She doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to do, so I guess she’s going to wait until she’s good and ready.”
“Can we sleep down here?” Gabriella asked.
“You need to finish that speech, young lady.”
She waved her hand as if to say, Whatever.
Please don’t let tomorrow be a disaster.
I COULDN’T SLEEP. I’D SET UP BABY MONITORS IN LUNA’S stall and my room, but only heard the donkey’s gentle snoring. Sleep. Otherwise you’ll look like shit tomorrow.
I e-mailed Vijay:
You are an a*shole and here’s why: NOT because you’re seeing Tara, but because your MOTHER had to tell me you were seeing Tara. If you’ve found someone you’re willing to introduce to your parents (I know how neurotic you are about that! Don’t forget, my friend, I know you!), that’s a big deal, and I was once the first person you’d call with news like that. We SWORE not to wreck our friendship. Don’t tell me this is how the book ends! Love, Cami. P.S. I hope we’ll figure out a way to include each other in our next chapters. I miss you.

I checked the baby monitor, certain it didn’t work. I turned up the volume all the way but was rewarded with a donkey fart that shook the walls and made Gerald dash under the bed.
I turned the monitor back down. I lay down, but after an hour, knowing I wasn’t going to sleep, I dressed and walked down to the barn.
Biscuit paced his paddock on his dinner-plate hooves. He nickered, long and low.
I didn’t turn on lights, because I didn’t want to disturb Luna. We’d left a light on over the feed box for this very reason. When I got to Luna’s stall, she lay on her side, a sac of blue membrane peeking out from below her tail—and visible through it were a tiny muzzle and two little hooves.