The Dog Park Read online

  But Sebastian didn’t love those stories. Of course not.

  I cut short my ramblings. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s not news.”

  “It’s not,” he said, his voice low, tense.

  “For fuck’s sake, Hess.”

  We both paused for a second. I stifled a laugh. I wasn’t sure where that had come from.

  “Look,” Sebastian said. “It’s not like I don’t like the idea of Baxy helping someone. I just think it’s inappropriate.”

  “Inappropriate?” I repeated. “In what way?”

  Sebastian didn’t seem to want to explain that, so he changed the subject.

  And that kind of phone exchange put an end to any pining for experiencing the Superdog phenomenon with Sebastian. If I did, I would have had to deal with his issues that the dog video wasn’t news, I would have to tone down my enthusiasm. And I didn’t want to do that.

  18

  Luckily, I had a boyfriend who loved the whole Superdog thing. In the few weeks since that first date, Gavin and I had spent so much time together it felt as if we had been dating for months. Our relationship was speeding fast and yet was somehow comfortably thrilling. If we weren’t together, we were on the phone or texting.

  He’d write, Superdog makes HuffPo! and he’d send me a link. He watched with the same awe I did when people descended on Baxter and especially when he made them happy.

  “He’s the Jesus Christ of dogs,” Gavin said one day when a group of serious-looking Japanese tourists seemingly became children again, lying on the sidewalk with Baxter.

  We’d spent those nights mostly in his cozy kitchen, the yellow walls surrounding us, the Wilco music he often played bouncing off them. We worked on our laptops or I brought over collar or leash samples to work on and show him.

  Often, we’d fill in the blanks of our lives from before we’d met each other.

  “She was cool,” Gavin said one night, answering my questions about his ex-girlfriend of three years. He took a couple of Stella beers out of the fridge and opened them for us, placing them on the table. “She still is cool.”

  “So what happened?” I took a sip, the beer tasting icy cold and fresh.

  “I loved her,” he said. Nothing after that.

  “Were you in love with her?”

  He shook his head. “I wanted to be.”

  “Hmm.” I took another sip. “Sometimes I wished I wasn’t in love with my ex-husband.” I stopped. “Back then,” I added.

  “What do you mean? What happened with you guys?”

  I told him why Sebastian and I weren’t together—because of his job, because I couldn’t live with the not knowing where he was and when he’d be home.

  “It was impossible to plan anything,” I said.

  “Yeah, that would be tough. I understand why you didn’t want to do it.”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to. I couldn’t.” This seemed an important point to emphasize.

  Gavin nodded. Then he looked sheepish.

  “What?” I said.

  He leaned back against the counter, looking down at me while I sat at his small kitchen table. “I have to make a confession.”

  “Okay.”

  “I read some of Sebastian’s work.”

  “Yeah?” I was amused, nothing else.

  “I wanted to see if he was a good writer.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s a freaking great writer.”

  “I know.”

  “And he loves his work.” Gavin’s words had a heaviness.

  “Yes.” I just wish he had loved me as much as the job.

  “Lucky bastard.”

  Gavin poured out his frustrations with his own job. He talked about calling on accounts—how those he knew would advertise were just as boring to call on as trying to get new accounts.

  “It’s all so meaningless,” he said, “ad space in magazines.” He made a derisive sound. “I could be selling apples. Or toilet seats.”

  “Can’t you try to make it meaningful? I mean what about approaching accounts that you think deserve some advertising and fight to give them breaks? Or what about moving into a different area of the company?”

  Gavin groaned. “Doesn’t really work that way.”

  “What about trying to get on the editorial side?”

  “Ha. It really doesn’t work that way.”

  “But you wish it did?”

  He looked at me for a beat, and then he looked down at the table. “Yeah, I wish I’d started out there. I wish I’d gotten a journalism degree rather than a business degree.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t. So this is the job I have now.”

  “So change it. You can. I did. I feel like I’ve been coming alive in the past few weeks. It’s really possible to change.”

  “It’s okay, Jess.” He leaned in and kissed me slowly. “I like my life a lot better now that I met you.”

  I smiled big. I stood up and put my arms around him.

  * * *

  The next night, Gavin made me pasta. He mixed flour and eggs and water. He put the dough through a machine that he hand-cranked, rolling out ribbons. He was so proud of that pasta.... He was adorable.

  Baxter went wherever Gavin went, sitting at his feet, waiting for him to occasionally let him sample some sausage. Gavin and I drank from a bottle of Alto Adige, a white Italian wine. We kissed often and well. We spoke about everything, slipping from one conversation to another with ease.

  “So, will you have kids?” Gavin asked.

  It was the first time I’d felt a slowage in the conversation that night.

  He noticed it, too, apparently. He raised his hands as if in surrender. “Is that not a good question?”

  I pulled my glass to me. “It’s a completely legitimate question. And one everyone wants to talk about. I noticed that during my brief attempt to fill out an online dating profile.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, I’ve dated online. It’s an experience. Did you do it at all?”

  I shook my head no. “I read some of the responses. There were a couple hundred. I got overwhelmed.”

  Gavin looked thoughtful. “It’s kinda nice, filling out the profile and all that. Because you figure out what you want. But getting specific like that, I worried I was missing out on meeting some really cool people.”

  I didn’t really relish the thought of Gavin with other people, but I didn’t say anything.

  “But it’s weird,” he continued, “because you go on these dates with these women, and you already know so much about the person from the profile and emailing back and forth.”

  Definitely didn’t like the thought of him with other women.

  “So anyway. What if we were on a date,” he said, “say, after meeting online...”

  He looked sheepish again.

  I finished for him. “You would know, already, that I’m undecided on the whether-to-have-kids front.”

  Growing up, I’d never been sure whether I wanted children. Being an only child myself, I knew what loneliness was, even before I’d given the feeling a name. And in my parents’ world, I knew what it felt like to not belong. So I only wanted kids if I knew I was 100 percent committed, if I knew I was ready to work to make them never feel lonely.

  “Okay,” Gavin said. He nodded.

  “And what would I know about you on that front?”

  “I want kids.” He said it so immediately, in such an assured way, that for some reason I felt an ache in the center of me.

  “You sound pretty confident about that.”

  He shrugged. “It’s something I’ve always known.” He slid his hand across the table, covering mine. “But I’m open to anything, to different decisions.”

  “Me, too.”
<
br />   He squeezed my hand then. “Especially if it’s with the right person.”

  “Exactly.”

  I turned my hand over and braided my fingers with his. A doorway to a different life appeared.

  I took Baxter out for a walk while Gavin boiled water, and that was when I got another glimpse of another doorway. Walking the dog up Cortland Avenue, I missed the dog park, which Bax and I hadn’t seen much of lately. But right behind that missing was a big expanse in my mind. It felt as if it were shining with clarity. Yes, I missed things about my past lives, regretted things about my past lives, but I knew I was in an entirely new one. I was hyperaware of my surroundings. And I started asking myself questions. What if I (we) lived on this street or near it? Would I go to that bar sometimes, that restaurant? I turned a corner and there was a boutique. Would I shop there? Across the street, a doggy bakery. Would Baxter get hooked on some canine cookie that I would give him only for special occasions? I saw a yoga studio. Maybe I’ll finally get into yoga. Maybe I’ll learn there.

  I could envision all of those things. They were all doorways into different worlds, ones that could be reached, hypothetically, by continuing a relationship with someone I now adored, by maybe moving to his neighborhood that was only a few miles from my own.

  Later that night, Gavin and I had sex in his bedroom while Baxter snoozed on the living room couch. “Had sex” sounds so vague, but it was anything but. Gavin was such a sweet, delicious kisser. He liked to make out for a long time, hands straying to my breasts, then disappearing, then later his fingers briefly touching me between my legs, then also going away. He was a tease. He liked to kiss me until he was taunting me with those fingers, those hands. I would try to unbutton his shorts, wanting to release the obvious straining, but he’d say no. Eventually, I would ask. Or I would beg. Or I would stand and slowly take off any clothes I still had on. And then he would give himself to me.

  Sometimes when he was inside me he was rough, but in a delicious way, causing me to arch into him. His desire for me seemed intensely charged, as if it would never abate. It set me on fire, made my flesh hot, my face flush.

  After, under a tent of cotton sheets, he lay curled around me, gentle again, and we talked. My eyes were closed, and I felt as if I was floating, floating through the future, to the places Gavin and I might go together, emotionally and physically. Maybe we would continue to date and we would travel to Vietnam. Maybe we’d pick up sailing. Maybe we’d love it so much we’d buy a boat and get a slip at Monroe Harbor (a place that always looked magical when I sped by it in a cab). Maybe we’d start hanging out at the yacht club. Maybe we’d meet fascinating people and have a whole new circle of friends.

  I pushed myself back into the curve of Gavin’s body.

  Baxter came into the room and decided to jump from the floor to the bed, landing apparently right on Gavin, who made an oof sound. I heard him laugh, knew the dog was probably licking his ear.

  Baxter walked over the two of us and tucked himself into my chest, his back to me. He curled into himself until he was just a coil of golden fur. I put my hand on his flank and we lay there like that—Gavin, his arm draped over my hip and me, with my hand on Baxy’s side. I nestled back into Gavin more.

  Just then, the doorway to the other world seemed larger, huge. And I could just about imagine myself walking through it.

  19

  Business started to boom. I’ve always wanted to be able to say something like that. My business is booming. As a stylist, unless you’re in the celeb side of the business (one who lands a client who is constantly on a red carpet) it can be a very swinging business—up and forth and down and back.

  But with all the publicity around Baxter, my dogwear line got hot, just like the temperatures—July sliding into August’s humidity. I still wasn’t making a lot of money yet because I was spending cash to try out different manufacturers, purchase materials and work on a website. I’d officially hired Toni as a publicist only three weeks into our trial run. She had gotten the mayor photo into many media and she’d also gotten an article about Baxter and me in a national women’s magazine. She’d then gotten me and Baxter booked for three well-paid speaking engagements which were just five minutes of talking and forty minutes of Baxter (and sometimes Baxter and me) getting our photos taken. And last but not least, after my unsatisfactory searches, she’d found me a small manufacturing facility in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and a sourcing director who knew how to get dogwear materials much cheaper and faster than I did. They worked fast and produced great products.

  I was working so much that for the first time in my life I was sleeping only about five hours a night. I was exhausted. And also joyously bewildered.

  And then I took a leap. I rented a studio on Wells Street.

  The studio was above a cigar shop, which was apparently why they’d had trouble renting it—everyone assumed that it would reek of smoke. But the scent was minimal, a spicy waft that gave the place an exotic feel. My agent made a lowball offer after I told her I loved the hardwood floors and black-painted ductwork. We were both surprised when they accepted. I purchased sealed containers for the supplies, and every morning, Bax and I walked down State Street to the park, then down North Avenue, past the corner of North and Clark, the very corner where Baxter saved a kid only a month and a half ago.

  Baxter was a trouper. He had become more spirited, and yet somehow more mature, since the whole viral video began. Eventually, I started seeing Baxter as my business partner—which is really what he was. Before that, I would sometimes get irritated with him while I was trying to work. When he stuck his black button nose (for the thirtieth time) into the basket of ribbons I was working with and started to chew, I would grow annoyed and gently shove him away. But after I rented the studio and gave him partner status, I changed my approach to a more grateful one. After all, Baxter had in some ways led me into the new life I was enjoying.

  And Baxter was gracious since he realized that to submit to my wrapping of ribbon and fabric around him led to praise and treats.

  One of the first items I made in the studio, I made for Sebastian. Or rather for Baxter to wear when he was with Sebastian. It was a black leather jacket, definitely for a male dog, with a stitched crucifix on the back. It was huge with the Harley crowd and was selling the best in Arizona and Nevada.

  But I didn’t have much time after that to design for Baxter. Local celebs started consulting with me when they were thinking of getting a puppy. Those calls led me to creating the Puppy Starter Kit, with two collars, one leash, a couple of add-ons for collars (like flower clips for girls) and a dog bed. Originally, I gave them as new puppy gifts to people who’d consulted with me. When Victory finally caved to her kids and agreed to a second dog, I threw her a puppy shower and two magazines covered it. Soon “puppy shower” started to be checked more and more as a reason for purchase on my site, and my Puppy Starter Kits were selling like crazy.

  Eventually, I trusted Baxter more and more for his reaction to things I was working on. I watched his reaction to a collar, a leash. If he seemed to like the item then I immediately called my manufacturer in Grand Rapids. Suddenly, I had a muse for my dogwear. My dog.

  * * *

  Sebastian texted me that he’d just gotten through customs. I was surprised. He’d only been gone a week. Another short trip.

  I texted him, Welcome back.

  I looked at Gavin, who was sitting on my couch across from me. We decided to spend some time at my place which was closer to the studio. Would he care that I was texting with my ex? I wondered. Now that it was clear Gavin and I were officially dating, did I have to tell him things like that?

  I got up and walked to the kitchen.

  Sebastian texted again. Get Baxy now?

  I stood in the kitchen, not doing anything.

  Sebastian must have sensed from my delay that I
wasn’t quite ready to give Baxter up (even though I’d had him for over a week, and Sebastian had a right to see him).

  Sorry, he wrote. Not a lot of notice.

  I texted back, No problem. But I might need to take him to the studio at least once this week.

  I turned when Gavin came into the kitchen.

  He opened the refrigerator. “I’m hungry. Feel like getting an early dinner?”

  “Sebastian is coming to get the dog.”

  “Baxter’s leaving?” he said, closing the door. Baxter came into the room and looked at the kitchen, immediately dropping into his “sit and wait for food” position.

  “Oh, Baxter,” Gavin said. He scooped up the dog in his arms, letting him lick his ear. “I’ll miss ya, buddy.”

  “Let’s get something to eat after he comes by,” I said.

  “Great,” Gavin said. “Do you... Do you want me to get out of here?”

  “No,” I answered quickly.

  “You’re ready for me to meet your ex-husband?” He said it in an almost jokey tone, but the question had a weight to it.

  I certainly wasn’t going to ask Gavin to wait in my room, so there were two options: introduce him to Sebastian or tell him I’d meet him at a restaurant.

  Gavin put Baxter on the floor and took treats out of his pocket, making him do basic commands—sit, down, shake. Baxter, who still adored Gavin, did anything he asked. Watching him, I knew how the dog felt. I adored him, too.

  And really, what was the big deal with my ex-husband? I was dating and it was that simple.

  “Stay,” I said to Gavin, as if I were giving him a command, too.

  He smiled, gave a brief nod of his head.

  When a knock sounded at the door, Gavin and I were in my small living room. It was a room I rarely used, and lately it had become Gavin’s place where he read magazines and watched sports.

  “I’ll just let him know you’re here,” I said. “Before I make introductions.”

  “Gotcha,” he said. “See you in a minute.”