The car door closes and I’m alone again, or at least it feels that way for a few seconds before I remind myself that Hal is right inside and Tara should be back from rehearsal soon.
Chris texts me as I’m walking inside.
Good seeing you again!
It’s a lot for Chris to use an exclamation point and it makes me feel all inflated on the inside, like a hot-air balloon soaring up over the city, seeing how everything connects from the sky in ways you never can down here on the street level.
U2, I reply, but I don’t like how cold that sounds, so I add two smiley face emojis and call it a night.
Chapter 14
Later that week I bring up my new idea to Hal and Tara. I gather them around the table in the back garden because we’re getting a burst of springtime in February.
“What’s all the fuss about?” Hal wants to know, clicking away at her computer, working on a new pitch deck.
“You’re not moving out, are you?” Tara asks, eyes wide with concern.
“Of course not,” I say. “I’m actually here to suggest an addition to our Redstocking family.”
I pause dramatically, and it gets Hal to look up from her laptop. “You want us to have a fourth roommate?” she asks. “How well-connected are they? Ivy League pedigree?”
“Why would that be your first question?” I snap.
“To secure investors in my business so I can become a billionaire,” Hal replies, as if I should have considered this from the start.
“There’s no such thing as an ethical billionaire,” Tara says.
“We’ll split the billion so we’re all multimillionaires, how’s that?” Hal amends.
“Except that you don’t have a business yet,” I point out.
“Because I don’t have investors. It’s the chicken-or-egg dilemma.”
Tara turns to me, re-centering our focus. “Who is it?” she asks. “Who do you want to move in with us?”
“It’s not a person,” I say.
Now Hal is really listening. “An extraterrestrial?” she says, thrilled by the prospect. “I’m in. We can finally unearth the truth of what the government’s been hiding all these years.”
“It’s a dog,” I say, smiling as I think of the idea of snuggling up with a little pup after a long day. “I suggest that we adopt a dog to join our family. It’s about time, don’t you think?”
Hal wrinkles her studded nose. “Absolutely not. Have you ever heard anything less liberating than owning a pet?”
“You don’towna pet,” I say, prickling. “You steward a pet and help them retain their own autonomy.”
“The sheer commitment of it is absurd,” Hal barrels on. “I can’t believe that you of all people would suggest this. It’s because of Chris, isn’t it? How you’ve fallen head over feet for him, plus that dog.”
“That dog’s name is Arnie,” I say, and it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to a maternal instinct kicking in. “And don’t forget how you loved playing with him the other day.”
“That’s only because I was high,” Hal says. “I can’t have a dog around with all of my entrepreneurship demands. It would disrupt my productivity.”
“You don’t need a dog for that,” I mutter, and Hal shoots daggers my way. “Tara,” I say pointedly, turning away from Hal. “What doyouthink about the idea?”
“I don’t know,” Tara says, following Hal’s lead like she always does. “I love dogs, of course, but it does feel like a lot of responsibility. I mean, we’ve never even successfully kept a houseplant alive. Even the succulents.”
She glances at the dead cacti atop the bookshelf.
“That’s because you watered them too much,” I say. “Cacti don’t need water.”
