Tracey studied me as she took back her phone. “So, what’s going on with that girl you took to our wedding?”
I must have looked wistful staring at the two of them when I took their picture. I needed to stop doing that.
I could not tell them about my dating arrangement with Willa, nor did I want to. “Nothing much.”
Owen shook his head. “Tracey won’t be content with that kind of an answer.”
“Let’s go inside. You can tell us all about her over hot chocolate.” Tracey retrieved her scarf and Owen put away the shovel, as if I’d already agreed to talk about it.
I delayed and hedged as best I could, making sure they were okay with taking my cat, Tiger, while I’d be gone for the next few weeks of auditions on the road, but the deflection only worked for a few minutes. Eventually, they wore me down with their pleading until I finally told them about Willa’s call the night before Christmas Eve and my assumption that I must be the most boring guy on the planet.
Owen and Tracey exchanged a look.
He scratched his neck. “Doug, she wasn’t bored with you. She was depressed.”
“No, she was amused by my nerdy video game marathon.”
Tracey put down her mug. “This time of year is hard on people, especially when they’re supposed to act like everything is fine. You should call her today and see how she’s doing.”
Willa
I gave everybody fifty dollar Visa gift cards on Christmas morning. Missy was thrilled. Katrina thought it was impersonal. Mom carefully tucked the gift card into her purse, but not before running a finger over the words, ‘love, Willa,’ scrawled in the top corner next to the amount. A pain hit me right in the chest. Mom was the reason I still came every year. Yes, she was embarrassingly braggy to her friends about me, and yes, she’d shamelessly paraded me around at all the pageants until a talent scout took notice, but in her own way, that was love.
She looked up at me. “I want you to keep an open mind about my gift this year. I thought a lot about this, and I think the two of you need each other.”
My eyes widened. “Did you get me a man?”
Mom, Missy, and Katrina all burst into giggles, and I snorted in my attempt to not join in.
“No, it’s not a man.”
She got up and walked quickly to her bedroom, coming back with a soft, furry bundle draped over her arms, quietly snoring.
“Oh, Mom, you didn’t.” How was I supposed to take a dog home on a plane? Not that I wanted to take it home.
She put it on my lap anyway, and the golden-colored droopy dog turned in a neat circle and rested its head in the crook of my arm. It immediately went back to sleep.
It looked like some kind of small spaniel, but I stopped my inspection and stared down Mom. “Why?”
She looked defensive, but it morphed into defeat at the last second. “Well, Marjorie’s son ended up being allergic to her, plus, they meant to adopt a dog a bit younger and more … energetic. This one sleeps all the time. I thought she might be a good fit for your lifestyle.”
To their credit, Missy and Katrina looked uncomfortable and stayed quiet. It wasn’t fair to spring this on me, and even they knew it. The duty to accept and be happy about it warred with my need to keep control over my life. Being handed a dog was not keeping control.
Mom reached out and rubbed the dog’s head. “I have her paperwork, and I got a little kennel for her. I checked with the airline, and she can be your carry-on. Oh, and I have a note from the vet saying she’s healthy enough to fly.”
I nodded. “Thank you.” What else could I do? I lifted one floppy ear and let it drop. Poor old girl. It wasn’t her fault she was here. No matter how I turned it around in my mind, it all came down to me taking this dog home. I would not neglect her. I would not pawn her off on someone else. But I didn’t feel like she was mine yet either. She was just this nameless, sleepy obligation with a funny little snore.
She slept through the rest of the gift exchange: handmade soaps from Katrina, and a friendship necklace from Missy, which was almost as hard to accept as the dog. Missy had been trying to make up with me without admitting guilt for almost ten years now. I didn’t want a necklace. I wanted her to confess what she’d done without me having to force it out of her.
Maybe we’d go on with our unspoken battle forever.
After the gift exchange, the dog and I went outside for a cold potty break, and then we escaped to my room.
Doug called two minutes later. It was bad timing. I should have waited until my feelings were firmly shoved back down where they belonged, but I answered anyway.
“How are you?” he asked, a touch of concern in his voice. “Are you enjoying your trip at all?”
“I’m just fine, Dr. Phil. How about you?”
