Chapter Thirteen Dogs
Chapter Thirteen
Dogs
I’m sitting in my car with the heat blasting, waiting for Amanda to finish her shift at the swimming pool.
Oscar sleeps on my lap, like a baby in my arms, his heavy head resting in the crook of my elbow.
How peaceful he looks in slumber. I stroke his head and finger his soft, velvety ear, then bend forward to kiss the top of his head.
In the next instant, I jump with fright when Amanda opens the car door and drops onto the seat like a bag of bricks.
Oscar startles awake and scrambles to stand on my lap, tail wagging.
“Hello, Oscar!” she coos and scratches behind his ears.
I recover my calm and watch her buckle her seat belt. “How was your shift?” This was the first time she’d seen Jeff since we filed the police report, so I’m more than a little curious.
“Great,” she replies, eyes smiling. “It was amazing, actually.”
My daughter’s happiness is like a drug to me, and euphoria surges through my bloodstream. It’s especially intoxicating after our stressful conversation this morning when she was worked up, afraid of what Jeff might think of her.
I pass Oscar across the console so she can hold him while we drive. “What happened?”
“As soon as I walked onto the pool deck,” Amanda explains, “Jeff came straight over to tell me that he heard I went to the cops.”
My eyebrows fly up. “Really? How did he know?”
“He said Marissa texted him and went on a crazy rant, calling him a . . . let’s just say loser, but that’s not the word she used. Anyway, she told him that I went to the cops and that I was the crazy one, but he doesn’t think so.” Amanda clasps my forearm. “Mom. He actually thanked me.”
Overcome with relief, I meet her gaze. “No way.”
“Yes, because she’s been harassing him too, and he didn’t know how to make her stop. He said he wished he had ‘balls as big as’ mine.”
I laugh. “I love it.”
Amanda laughs too. “I know, right? He’s awesome.
And just now we were talking, and he was really understanding, and he said it must have been tough on me, and he apologized for it happening.
I told him it was definitely tough but that it turned out to be a good thing because I got a dog out of it.
” She rubs Oscar’s belly, kisses the top of his head, and speaks baby talk.
“You’re worth every minute of the hell I went through. ”
“Every cloud has a silver lining.” I chuckle as I watch her snuggle with Oscar.
“But there’s more,” she says, giving me a coy look.
“Do tell.” I shift into drive and head for home.
“Jeff has a dog too,” she says. “And guess what kind.”
“I don’t know.”
She pauses for dramatic effect. “A giant Yorkie.”
“No way!”
“Her name is Tootsie, and she’s eight years old.”
“Maybe they’ll be best friends.” I wink at her, and she smiles.
We reach a busy intersection, and when the light turns yellow, I consider hitting the brakes but decide to speed up.
“Here’s the best part,” Amanda adds. “Jeff asked if I wanted to meet up tomorrow and take the dogs for a walk.”
I glance briefly at her. “Interesting. Is this a first date?”
“Mom. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I ask innocently.
“Don’t call it a date. We’re just hanging out. But can I go? He said he could drive to our house.”
I put on a serious face. “He drives? How old is this boy?”
“Seventeen.”
I digest that. “Would Dad and I get to meet him?”
“I guess. If you want to.”
“Of course we’d want to,” I reply.
We drive in silence for a moment.
“Will Dad even be there?” Amanda asks.
I tap my thumb a few times on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure. What time would Jeff arrive?”
“Around noon.”
I slowly nod. “Then Dad should be home, so it sounds fine. Tell Jeff to come to the front door and ring the bell.”
We drive the next two blocks in a second round of silence, so I decide to scale back on the strict parenting routine. I nudge Amanda with my elbow and give her a look. “I can’t wait to meet Tootsie.”
She grins and immediately texts Jeff.
This improvement in her mood since breakfast comes as a great relief to me. I glance down at Oscar on her lap and feel rejuvenated.
The doorbell rings the next day. Oscar barks and runs to the front hall. There’s a great hullabaloo, but I remain in the kitchen to give Amanda a chance to greet Jeff.
Naturally, I eavesdrop.
“Settle down, Oscar,” Amanda says before she opens the door. “You made it.”
They supervise the meeting of Tootsie and Oscar, and I’m pleased that the barking has ceased and neither dog is growling or yelping. I dry my hands at the kitchen sink and move to the foyer.
“Hi,” I say. “You must be Jeff.” He’s a handsome boy, about five foot eleven, with honey-brown hair and blue eyes. He looks nervous. “I’m Sienna.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he politely replies.
I turn my attention to the dogs, who are sniffing each other’s behinds.
“This must be Tootsie,” I say. “She’s so adorable. They could be twins.”
“Oscar’s a bit bigger,” Amanda mentions, and we all watch them interact for a few seconds.
“Amanda tells me you work at the pool,” I say to Jeff, wanting to get to know him a little. “Have you been working there long?”
“This is my second year,” he replies. “It’s a good job. It’s helping me save for university.”
“Good for you. Do you know where you might like to go?”
“Probably Dal so that I can keep living at home and save money.”
“That sounds like a good plan,” I reply.
Oscar barks twice, and Amanda pulls his leash from the basket. “He needs to pee, so we should get going.”
While Amanda pulls on her coat and boots, I glance toward the den, where Nate had disappeared immediately after breakfast. It grates on my nerves that he hasn’t come out to say hello to his daughter’s potential first boyfriend.
He couldn’t have failed to notice the doorbell ringing and the barking.
But I don’t want to call out to him and make a big deal out of it.
That would be awkward for Amanda, so I let it be.
I move forward and hold the door open for her, Jeff, and the two dogs as they make their way outside and down the front steps.
After I shut the door behind them, I discreetly tug the curtain aside and peek out the window to spy. They’re talking and laughing as they walk down the street, and I’m relieved to see Amanda smiling again after such a bad week.
But as I let the curtain fall closed, my feelings take a sharp turn, and there’s a noisy pounding in my ears. I realize I’ve become a pressure cooker, and my lid is about to fly off.
Before I even realize what the hell I’m doing, I march down the hall to the den, where I find the door shut. I stop and stare at it for a few scorching seconds. Then I push forward and walk in without knocking.
Nate is talking on his cell phone, pacing around the room, arguing with someone about the wiring at the restaurant. He glances up at me briefly and holds up a finger to let me know that he can’t talk to me right now.
I wrestle my emotions into a stranglehold, back out of the room, and return to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Nate finds me at the counter, making a sandwich for myself.
“They left already?” he asks.
I slather mayonnaise on two slices of bread. “Yes. They went out to walk the dogs. Maybe you can meet Jeff when they come back.”
He knows me well enough to recognize the anger in my tone. “Sorry. I wanted to meet him, but I couldn’t get off the phone. I was putting out a few fires. Not literal fires. You know what I mean.”
“I do.” I slap ham and cheese on one slice of bread, cover it with the other, and cut it in half. I set the knife down with a clatter, then swing around to face him. “I can’t do this anymore.”
All color drains from his face. “Do what?”
“Support you and the restaurant.”
He stares with wide eyes. “You mean financially? Babe, I haven’t asked you for money since we opened, except for last week, but that was a special circumstance.”
I shake my head. “You haven’t been able to take a salary in years, and I’m covering all our expenses.
I’ve had to dip into our nest egg more than once to cover extra things for the kids.
And now it looks like I’m going to have to cover this electrical fire, and I’m starting to worry that the restaurant is going to bankrupt us. ”
“It’s not,” he assures me with a look of shock. “We have plenty of money in the bank.”
“We don’t have plenty of money!” I counter.
“Not if I have to keep funneling it into the restaurant, and you know I’ve wanted to keep enough to cover the kids’ educations.
When I sold my company, that money was supposed to be our retirement fund, but at this rate, we’ll blow through everything before Connor graduates from high school. Trust me, I did the math.”
Suddenly he looks worried. He pulls out a stool at the kitchen island and sits down. “You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
The lengthy silence between us is full of contentious energy.
“You’ve been angry a lot lately.” He shuts his eyes and shakes his head at himself. “I’m sorry I didn’t come out to meet Jeff earlier. I swear to you, I had every intention of it, and I promise I’ll stay home until they get back. I’ll meet him then.”
His words are hollow in my ears. “Every time you say you’ll do something or be somewhere . . . in my mind, I’m thinking, ‘Yeah, sure.’ And that’s exactly what I’m thinking right now.”
He bows his head. “If we can just get over this hump with the wiring . . . I promise you, things will get better.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Seriously? You’re not hearing a word I’m saying! And I’m not just talking about money. I’m talking about your commitment as a husband and father because I might as well be a single parent. Me and the kids are at the bottom of your list of priorities.”
“That’s not true.”
I take a few seconds to try and settle down.
Then I continue in a calmer voice. “I’ve been disappointed too many times, and every day, I feel like I’m being lied to .
. . taken advantage of—financially and in other ways too.
I’m here to do your laundry and raise your kids and keep the house nice for when you come home.
But what do you ever give back to me or the kids? Nothing.”
Though I’ve lost my appetite, I pick up the plate with my sandwich on it and carry it to the sofa in the family room, because I need an excuse to walk away from him.
“Sienna . . .” He watches me sit down. “What can I do to fix this?”
I regard him with dismay. “Do you really need to ask that question? We’ve had this conversation a thousand times.”
Thankfully, he owns up to that. “I know. I’m sorry.”
I take a bite of my sandwich, chew, and swallow.
“At this point, something has to change because I feel angry at you all the time, and I don’t want to live that way.”
Neither of us speaks for at least a full minute, and the weight of our silence is oppressive.
“I love you,” he finally says.
I look at him directly, and exhale. “You know, that’s the first thing you’ve said today that I actually believe.
Because I know you love me and the kids, and you don’t want to lose us.
But you’re oblivious to our needs because you’re so totally consumed by the success of Oblique. And we both know why.”
I stare at him intensely and wait for him to admit what has been driving him all these years, since the day we met. But he just sits there, motionless, with dread in his eyes.
“It’s because you don’t want your father to see you fail,” I tell him.
“Which I don’t understand because he’s made it clear he doesn’t care about us.
Why does he matter to you? He cut you off years ago and hasn’t even met our children.
The man has a heart of stone, but still, you bend over backward to get his attention and prove yourself to him. ”
Nate says nothing. He just stares at the floor. Then I realize this conversation is too much for him. He has completely shut down.
I stand, walk to him, and lay my hand on his shoulder. “Will you at least admit this to yourself? Because I hate that he still has this power over you. I wish you could just live for your own happiness and not care what he thinks.”
Nate finally looks up. “That’s exactly what I did twenty years ago. It’s why I quit law school.”
“Yes, and that took courage,” I concede. “But he still matters to you. More than we do, I think.”
He scoffs. “Now you’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I? I don’t think so.”
Nate shakes his head, gets up, and strides to the bedroom.
I follow because I’m not ready to let this go.
“Why is it so necessary for you to have a Michelin star? For that matter, why can’t we cut our losses, close the restaurant, and you could work at any restaurant in the city?
You’ve been getting offers for years. Then you could focus on your first love, which is being a chef, instead of worrying about bills and payroll and electrical fires. ”
He searches angrily through the shirts hanging in his closet. “I’m not going to shut it down. Please don’t suggest that.”
“Why not? Just consider it. That’s all I ask. You’d have far less stress in your life, you’d make good money, and you wouldn’t miss out on Connor’s hockey games. You’d be around if Amanda is getting bullied.”
He glares at me. “Stop throwing guilt at me.” He pulls a wool sweater over his head and rolls the sleeves up to his elbows, then stalks out of the bedroom.
Again, I follow.
“I have to go to work,” he tells me. He searches for his boots in the front hall closet and pulls them on.
“I thought you were going to stay to meet Jeff.”
“Do you want him to meet us together like this?” he asks. “When we’re at each other’s throats?”
“Nate, come on . . .”
“No, listen. You don’t get it. It’s not just about my father. There’s a whole staff depending on me for their livelihood.” He pulls on his coat. “I have to go. I’ll meet Amanda’s friend another time.” He walks out the door, gets in his car, and drives off.
I stand in the doorway and watch him disappear down the street.
There’s a numbness in my veins. I don’t know how to get through to him. What’s it going to take? The restaurant falls deeper into debt every day, but he won’t see it. And the kids are constantly disappointed. They don’t feel close to him, or loved by him.
Perhaps the time has come to talk to a lawyer, because I can’t let this continue. I can’t just stand back and let him bleed this family dry.