I had the urge to double-check the calendar on my BlackBerry, but I knew he was right. He wouldn’t ever forget a date. Besides, the summer was ending, and that was when we met last year—the end of the saddest summer I’d ever had.
“Is that a Montauk weekend for us?” I asked, grabbing myself a glass of water. He’d put in the bids for our weekends and was in charge of keeping track of when we went out to the house.
“But of course,” he replied.
I should’ve known better. He’d probably had the date marked when he gave in our requests.
“Maybe a clambake dinner?” I said, as I added ice to my cup. “At that fancy place on the docks? You know, where it’s mostly grown-ups and everybody gets dressed up?”
Darren crossed the kitchen to kiss me. “We’re grown-ups,” he said.
I laughed. “You know what I mean.”
He kissed me on the nose this time. “I think that sounds great. I had one other thought, too,” he said. “And it’s about gifts.”
I wondered if he was going to talk about an engagement ring. Sabrina had gotten engaged the month before—mostly because she’d gotten pregnant—but still, the idea of it seemed nice. Satisfying, like finding the right piece of a jigsaw puzzle, one you’d been hunting for for a long time and never would have to hunt for again. Not right then, but one day.
“What about gifts?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, “I was thinking about our bucket lists, and on mine it says ‘rescue a pet,’ and on yours it says ‘own a dog.’ And I’ve been thinking about doing this for years, so . . . I have a surprise for you. I know it’s a little early, but once I thought of the idea, I couldn’t wait another minute!”
He walked toward his bedroom door, which was uncharacteristically closed, went inside, and came out with a small, wriggling, white, furry bundle in his arms. The bundle barked. A puppy. There was a puppy in his arms. I froze.
“Look what I got you!” he said. “I figured she could live at my place, and then maybe one day you’ll come live with me and the dog.”
“A dog?” I said. “You got me a dog?” I was stunned.
“I’m hoping you’ll share her with me,” Darren said. “That she can be our dog.”
He handed me the puppy, and I automatically took her. She licked my neck and chin and nose.
“She was the sweetest dog at the whole North Shore Animal League,” he said. “I met every single one.”
I looked at the dog and she barked a hello. I said hello right back and she smiled a big doggy grin.
Here was the thing: The idea of getting me a dog was thoughtful, in a very Darren way. But what he didn’t realize about me then, and still doesn’t understand, is that I wanted to meet all the dogs at the North Shore Animal League. I wanted to be part of the decision about which dog to get—or even whether we got a dog. I think he thinks there’s something gallant about presenting these grand gestures to me fait accompli, but it’s just . . . it feels . . . infantilizing. Or . . . patronizing. Like my opinions aren’t worthy of his consideration. You’d never do something like that.
“I wish I’d met every single one of them,” I told Darren. “This is a great gift, but . . . I feel like I missed the fun part.”
He looked confused, eyebrow askew. “The fun part is now! When we get to have a dog!”
I sighed. “I know . . . but it would’ve been nice if we chose a dog together. So it was our dog. One that we both agreed on. I want us to be partners, Darren.”
“Lucy,” he said, closing the space between us. “Of course we’re partners. I just wanted to surprise you with something special. Aren’t I allowed to surprise my beautiful girlfriend with an amazing present every once in a while?”
Once he said that, I didn’t know how to respond. Because in that context, it sounded like I was being silly. I couldn’t tell him never to surprise me, that he wasn’t allowed. And how could I fight with someone who’d just done this incredible thing, who had just gotten me a dog?
The dog tried to lick inside my nostril, like she was hoping to get me to laugh. Maybe she understood.
“Of course you’re allowed,” I said, finally. “So did she come with a name?”
“They found her without any identification,” Darren said. “One of the workers there started calling her Annie, because of her curly hair, but I was thinking we could lengthen that.”
“Angel?” I asked.
“Anniversary!” he said.
And then I did laugh. Because that was an absolutely absurd name for a dog, but also somehow perfect. And she really was a perfect dog—loving and smart and not yappy at all. She wasn’t an engagement ring, thank goodness, but sharing responsibility for another living being seemed like a pretty solid commitment. Once I said yes to Annie, I could see how it would be easy to say yes to other things down the line.
xl
I always figured there were two kinds of people in the world—some who loved giving gifts and others who loved receiving them. I’ve always loved getting gifts, and still do. But the second Christmas I spent with Darren I realized that I loved giving gifts as well.
We were supposed to go with Darren’s family to Colorado that Christmas. I’d met them before—the youngest of his three older sisters first, along with her husband. Then the other two sisters with their husbands and kids. Then his parents. Then various permutations and combinations of them at different events. But this was the first holiday I’d be spending with his family, and the first time I’d be confronted with all of them at once. They were nice individually, especially his dad, who was quiet—the eye of the hurricane that was the Maxwell clan—but I was a little worried about what it would be like to spend so much time with them, and about how much I’d miss my own family.