The Dog Year (18 page)

L
ucy stood in the center of the pet exercise area watching a Great Dane named Zeus lope after Sassy Parker, a golden retriever. Marilyn, head of volunteer training, pulled a wool cap over her blond curls. “I remember you, you know. You came in with that guy who adopted Bella.”

Lucy touched her abdomen through her parka as she looked at Marilyn.

Marilyn continued. “These dogs are my family. You don't forget family.” She tucked a lock of hair up into her knit cap. “I didn't want you to be one of our volunteers. Couldn't figure out your deal.”

“My deal?”

“You're a smartass.”

“Yes.” Lucy pulled her zipper up to her chin and said, “Why'd you take me on, then?”

“Dogs can sense a phony a mile off, and Bella went right to you. I trust dogs.”

“Ah. I see.”

“And sometimes you get a look on your face like some of our strays do. Like you just don't know what's next. I still don't know what your deal is, but I can tell you're good with dogs.”

Sassy Parker ran with abandon, dodging her fellow dogs at every turn, while Zeus cut each corner by taking only a stride or two to cover significant ground.

“How did these two come here? They are so sweet. Who wouldn't want them?”

“People suck,” said Marilyn without a trace of apology. “They can't pay their bills, or a dog pees inside because no one bothered to let him out, and boom; dog's gotta go.” Marilyn nodded to another volunteer entering the exercise area with a floppy-eared basset hound. “That hound's name is Candy. Her owner got pregnant and dropped Candy here because she said she didn't want to deal with two poop-producers. If you ask me, someone should take that baby from that coldhearted bitch.”

Lucy watched Candy jump into the play area with the bigger dogs. With every gallop it looked like her ears would get caught underfoot. She was all wagging tongue, tail, and ears. Marilyn said, “She's been here a while, actually, in the infirmary. They get ear infections, so people don't want bassets. I don't know what's going to happen to her.”

Beyond the exercise area Lucy saw an open field filled with areas of mowed grass and prairie. “What's that over there?”

“A dog park. A farmer donated the land. There's almost thirty acres of fun for dogs over there. I like that it runs next to us. It's like it gives the dogs something to work for. Something to look forward to.”

Lucy said, “Can I ask you something, Marilyn?”

“Shoot.”

“How do you deal with the hard cases? The screw-ups? The ones that can't get along with anyone?”

“Oh, I never give up on a dog. It's no-dog-left-behind every day here.”

Lucy waited in case Marilyn had more to say. A cloud covered the sun and a late flock of geese flew in formation overhead. After a long silence Lucy said, “Can I take Coltrane home today?”

Marilyn leashed Zeus, saying, “C'mon big guy, let's go get something to eat.” Lucy followed the two, dragging her eyes away from the ungainly Candy as she tried to keep up with the beautiful Sassy Parker. Marilyn called over her shoulder, “Today's as good a day as any.”

*   *   *

After she left the dog park, Lucy sat in a gray folding chair at the Serenity Center, looking around the room at Ron, Sara, Kimmy, and Claire. A Christmas wreath hung over the clock, and on a table that held AA literature stood a large electric Santa that swung his hips like a metronome to “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” Someone had pinned a note to the fur of his coat that read, “Hi, my name is Santa and I'm an alcoholic.”

Tig started the meeting with the usual readings. Then she looked at Lucy. “Lucy and I've spoken,” she said, “and she would like to start today's discussion.” Everyone sat up, looking alert, except for Sara who, in her usual sulky pose, began examining her hair for split ends.

“I know it's time for me to talk.”

Sara scoffed and Claire put her arm around her to shush her up. Kimmy relaxed in her seat by the window, turning so that the winter sunshine fell directly on her face. There was no longer any trace of the bruise on her chin. Ron looked slightly less commanding in Lucy's eyes since she'd seen him hospital-gowned and out of his element.

Lucy took a saltine from a package of them in her purse and nibbled on a corner. “I've been holding back for a while. I didn't want to admit anything to anyone.”

Sara pushed back from the table.

“I know the topic for today is ‘Asking for Help.' I don't have much to say about that. My dad used to say help is for sissies. I guess I believed him. And to make sure I never asked for help, I became the person people come to for help.”

Sara heaved a deep, angry sigh, and Lucy decided she'd had enough.

“Sara,” she said. “Could you just shut up for a second?” Lucy went on. “I don't drink. I steal. I stole a whole lot of stuff from the hospital where I work. And it got me in trouble. And . . . I'm—” But before she could make herself finish her sentence, Mark walked into the room.

“You're what?” Mark asked.

“You're entitled, is what you are,” Sara said with venom. “And you're selfish. And you're a bitch. You have no idea how good you have it.” She looked fiercely at Lucy, then shoved her chair back and pushed past Mark, knocking his coffee to the floor on her way out the door.

Mark seemed torn. As was his habit, he turned to follow Sara, but stopped and examined Lucy's distressed face. “What were you going to say, Lucy? You're what?”

Kimmy pulled her face from the sunlight at the window and stood. Then Tig spoke up. “This is not our conversation, people. Ron, Claire, time to go. Let's convene outside.”

Kimmy gathered her coat and slipped out the door, holding it steady for Claire, who against her nature, moved out of earshot. At the door Tig said, “Take a deep breath, you two.”

Lucy exhaled and turned to Mark. “Boy, when Sara gets it right, she doesn't pull any punches.” She dipped the toe of her shoe into the puddle of coffee on the floor and wrote a
B
for baby on the dirty linoleum. “I didn't think I'd see you here anymore,” she added.

“I figured if you weren't speaking to me, what did it matter where I was?”

Lucy shook her head. “I don't know. I don't know why I never . . . called after the last time I saw you.” It was hard for her to talk.

“You treat people like garbage.”

As if this thought had never occurred to her. As if the thought of Mark in any capacity had never occurred to her. She opened her mouth to speak when Ron rolled himself back inside. “Forgot my hat,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Wait. Ron, I have something for you in the car.” Lucy slipped through the door. When she hit the exit she took a deep breath. In the driver's seat of her Subaru sat Coltrane. Dignified, watchful, patient. Lucy pulled the door open and Coltrane stepped out just as Ron exited the building.

“I know you are never supposed to give a dog as a gift but . . .” Coltrane, like the lion king, stepped into the center of the parking lot, surveying the people standing there as they clustered around their cars. “He almost graduated as a service dog but couldn't get over escalators. I figure since you never use escalators . . .” Ron opened the palm of his hand and Coltrane moved to his side, nudged his hand, and gave Ron a quick, gentle lick.

“I'll be dammed,” Ron said.

Breathing hard, Lucy said, “I was just thinking. You know. You could use a companion.”

Lucy saw Sara standing half hidden by the Serenity Center door. The dark dye in her hair did little to mask its filthy texture. Her nails were characteristically black, and she wore a huge skull ring on her middle finger.

Claire gestured to Sara. “Come here, honey. I thought you left.”

“It's a public place,” Sara said, moving in the opposite direction from the group.

Mark stood in the doorway clenching his jaw while Kimmy and Ron made a fuss over the beautiful dog. Lucy warily approached Sara, aware of Mark's eyes on her.

“I get that you don't like me,” she began.

Sara pulled the sleeves of her shirt over the heels of her hands and stepped away.

“I don't think anyone's ever taken such an extreme dislike to me without cause,” Lucy went on.

“What do you care?”

“I don't know. I'm just trying to understand. To see what you see.”

Sara scoffed. “What's the big mystery?” She shook her head in disgust. “I'll tell you what I see. Comes from a happy family, money, smart. A doctor. You have a place to live. How bad could your life be?”

Lucy felt the heat rise from her breastbone and spread through her jaw. “Here's what
I
see,” she said. “A young girl calling negative attention to herself because negative attention is better than none.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Sara turned away. “C'mon Mark—let's go.” But Mark didn't move.

“I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry, Sara,” said Lucy.

Sara snapped her head around. “I hate you!”

“I'm doing the best I can.” Lucy felt the prickling in her throat and gulped.

That admission seemed to snap a switch in Sara. “Don't you fucking cry, you baby.”

“You don't understand,” Lucy said, wanting to show this outraged girl her own résumé of suffering. Wanting her to understand she wasn't the only one who knew what it felt like to lose things, to feel nothing, to want to feel something again. “I lost my . . .”

Sara covered her ears. “Shut up, I don't want to hear it. Everyone's lost something. That's how the world works. But you think you deserve something because of what you lost. And you don't. You don't deserve anything.”

Lucy felt like she'd been slapped. “I don't deserve anything?”

Sara spoke to her as if she were a child. “I suppose you think you do.” Her voice was mocking. “You think you have what you have because you worked hard. College, med school, residency. You people don't get it.” Sara took a deep breath; let her words gain some speed before she hit them out of the park. “Because of some lottery you won before you were born, you got a home, real parents, brains. So because your life started that way, you think it should always be that way.”

Lucy blinked. As she stood there, Little Dog leaped out of the open car door and sat at attention. She looked from Lucy to Sara to Lucy again, waiting for the answer from her beloved.
Is it true? Is there nothing we deserve? Not even bacon?

Sara whirled to leave, and as she turned she tripped over a large pothole in the gravel drive. Unable to catch herself, she fell backward then rolled to one side, clutching her wrist. Lucy was at her side before she even caught her breath. She dropped to her knees and put her hand on Sara's shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Claire shouted and started to her side, but Tig held her back. Ron touched Kimmy's forearm.

Sara was still holding her wrist and grimacing. “No, I'm not okay,” she said through clenched teeth. “Motherfucker.”

“Let me take a look,” Lucy said, automatically in doctor mode as she gently touched Sara's arm.

Sara shrugged her off. But Lucy was accustomed to reluctant patients. She grasped Sara's upper arm with authority, easing her wrist and hand into view. Even in the fading light of the day, it was easy to see the scars. A series of parallel marks of varying length, depth, and healing disfigured the pale skin of Sara's arm from wrist to elbow. One of the cuts oozed a milky greenish fluid. Lucy cataloged the evidence in her mind: clammy hot skin, inflammation, and swelling already collecting at the girl's tiny wrist.

Sara winced. “Let go,” she said.

“Sara, we need to get you to the hospital. I'm sure your wrist is broken, and you have an open, infected cut.”

Yanking her arm away, Sara awkwardly got to her knees. “Forget it.”

“No, Sara, we need to have it X-rayed and casted. And we need to deal with the infection.” Thinking of the scars on Sara's arm, she added, “You need some help.”

“Leave me alone,” Sara insisted. By now she had stood up and was moving away.

Mark said, “C'mon, Sara, I'll take you.”

Sara wheeled around and confronted him angrily. “Why don't you find someone else to help? Help Claire. She's got cancer. Or your g
irlfriend
. Whatever. I don't want your help.”

Lucy stopped short. “Cancer? Claire?”

Sara continued ranting at Mark, as if her words tasted of dirt and she had to spit them out. “Except your
girlfriend
doesn't want your help, does she?” Then she turned to Lucy and snarled, “You're the grown-up. Fucking grow up.”

Dumbfounded, Lucy watched Sara stumble out of the parking lot and into the darkness. Mark, who was already at Sara's side, tried to put his arm around her shoulder, but got nothing but a shove in return. Lucy watched the two of them as they disappeared into the night. The wind had picked up, and it whipped the birch trees, making them look like cheerleaders waving pom-poms, even after the game was clearly over.

Claire moved to Lucy's side and put her arm around her shoulder.

“She's right,” Lucy said. “I've been so caught up in my own problems. I saw how pale you were, but I never even thought to ask.” But Claire said nothing, just steered Lucy toward her car as they watched Kimmy, fearful of conflict, drive carefully out of the parking lot. Ron nodded a thank-you to Lucy as he and Coltrane reentered the building.

“That was really nice of you,” Claire said to Lucy. “Coltrane is perfect for Ron.”

“I'm trying.”

Tig broke into the conversation. “I can see that,” she added. “You're trying to solve your problems by focusing on others.”

“I didn't focus on Claire.”