Twenty #2
“We met at my mother’s school one day when I was volunteering, just doing some art projects with the little ones, and then she got me involved in this pro-democracy group. So that’s how I became part of this movement. And we started dating, too.”
Angel nuzzled into Amy’s palm.
“Of course my mother did not like any of that,” Maia said.
“Not that I was dating a woman, not that I was involved in the democracy movement. And then my mother had to fire her, and then Eteri broke up with me, and my mother and I couldn’t stop fighting.
It was terrible. I blamed her for everything. ”
“So how does this lead to Angel?” Amy said. “I don’t understand.”
“That week she fired Eteri, she found some blood in her doghouse—that’s what she said at least—and she was worried kids were bothering her, throwing stones or something. So she brought her home.”
“What?”
“My mom had always loved Angel. She thought that Angel was actually sent from heaven—she’s the one who named her, you know? Angelozi . So she took her home, just for a night, just to keep her safe. And she wanted her close. You know that feeling, right? When you need a dog to be close to you?”
“Didn’t she already have like ten dogs at home?”
Maia shrugged. “I don’t think she really thought about what would happen next.
But Angel just joined the pack, and it made my mother so happy to have her, and even though everyone was searching for her she never—I don’t know.
My mother thought that maybe she could just bring her back, but she could never bear to do it.
She gets very attached to her animals, you know? ”
“So she kidnapped her?”
“Not kidnapped, no. I mean again I think she always meant to bring Angel back. But then you started sending money, so—”
Oh god, the money.
“I think she thought—” Maia shrugged. “I think she thought you could help us,” she said. “I think she thought Americans have a lot of money and good intentions. Even when they don’t understand anything.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“Please don’t hate her.”
“She used me, Maia.”
“But don’t you understand where she’s coming from?” Maia said. “Don’t you see? She needed you.”
“She needed my money.”
Maia was quiet. Then she said, “Amy, she always told me, if you don’t think about the future, what else is there to think about?”
Amy looked into Angel’s dark brown eyes.
She had loved this dog for a very long time.
She had flown across the ocean for her, to rescue her.
She had seen in her all that was maternal and loving, which had helped her see that in herself.
She pulled the dog in the way she often did with Roxy, and felt the dog’s soft fur under both her hands, and rubbed the sweet spot on top of her head.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” Amy said, and for a long time she let the dog’s breathing comfort her. Maia didn’t say anything, but she didn’t leave.
After a while, Amy looked up. “Do you want to come study in the US?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Just—” Amy wiped her cheeks with the back of her wrist. Angel curled up in a circle of white at her feet. “I could maybe make that happen? Or help you work there or something?”
“No,” Maia laughed. “I’m Georgian. My future is here.”
“Your future could be anywhere,” Amy said. “You’re so young.”
“Yeah, but if I went to the US I’d always be dependent, right? I wouldn’t have any money, I wouldn’t have any connections—besides you, I guess, but you have your own family. But even if you—What I mean is that I want to build the future I want in the place I want to live. In my home.”
Amy understood. She brought Angel’s face close, scratched under her chin. The dog smelled a little gritty; she could use a bath, but she was going to leave that job to Maia and the other women of this house. “I’m leaving in a few hours,” she said. “Heading back to New York.”
Maia nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I’m glad you came here. You helped us a lot.”
“Honestly, I didn’t do anything,” Amy said.
“Actually,” Maia said, “you might have saved my life.”
They sat there then, in the quiet, until finally Amy rubbed Angel’s head one last time. Then she stood and walked out of the house, down the hill to Rustaveli, which was quiet, clean, and ordinary under a bright blue sky. The stray dogs had assumed their places. They would all be fine without her.
She walked down the street a few blocks, past the McDonald’s and Parliament Square and the drooping cross, past the subway stop and the paths up the hill, to where she thought she’d seen a bank the other day—yes, there it was, with an ATM inside.
She punched in 3000 lari, and the machine flashed red: she didn’t have 3000 left in her account.
God. In one week she’d spent everything she’d salted away over the years.
She’d once thought of this money as her escape fund.
Oh, what did it matter anymore? She punched in 2500 lari, and—success!
—received the money in crisp yellow notes.
She put the lari in her belt bag, tucked into a secret compartment, then grabbed a spinach pastry from one of the windows that opened onto the street.
She ate most of it on her walk back to the house, saving the last bite for Angel.
HER CLOTHING WAS packed away. Her dog treats were stashed in her backpack.
She went to her room with the small bed and the wood-framed window, stripped the sheets, folded the blankets.
She ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook and wrote the word Madloba on it, and also, in English, good-bye .
Then she folded the paper around the 2500 lari, brought it down to the kitchen and placed it in the middle of the table where she thought Irine would find it. The faucet dripped to its own beat.
“You are sneaking out?”
Irine was in the doorway opposite, smoking, gray-faced. Amy felt a surge of anger that quickly subsided into shame.
“Angel was here the whole time,” she said.
Irine said nothing.
“What a strange thing to do,” Amy said. Irine looked at her blankly. “What a mean, strange thing.”
Still, Irine was silent.
“Was it fun for you to watch me run around trying to rescue an animal who had never gone missing?”
Irine tapped her cigarette ash onto the floor. “I don’t think you understand.”
“What don’t I understand?”
Irine inhaled on her cigarette, then blew out the smoke. “I am sorry about Angel. I didn’t mean to trick you.”
“You didn’t mean —but you—”
“I wanted to meet you, I hoped you would come. I could tell you were a useful, hopeful person. And I didn’t think you’d be so—so serious about finding a dog.”
“You didn’t think I’d be serious ? Irine, I flew across the ocean!”
“I know. But I thought once you were here you’d meet Maia and you’d want to help bring her to the United States.”
“Maia doesn’t want to come to the United States! She’s fighting for democracy here! For this country’s freedom! That’s all she wants to do! She’s told you that so many times!”
Irine walked forward to the kitchen table, where the ashtray sat.
She ground out her cigarette. For a minute, she was silent, and Amy could hear her shallow breathing.
Up close, Irine looked so very tired. “I can’t believe you’ve spent all this time here,” she finally said, “and seen what you’ve seen and still understand nothing. ”
“Enough with that already,” Amy said. “I don’t have to—”
“I have explained and explained to you and you still refuse to see.”
“Give me a break,” Amy said. “You live with Maia and you still refuse to see! Don’t you understand what she’s trying to do? Or are you really some kind of—some kind of Soviet stooge?”
Irine laughed, a bitter, choking sound. “No more than you are, Amy.”
“Excuse me?”
They were silent for several seconds.
Then: “Your husband makes the money, am I right? Or his family makes the money, you’re not even sure?
And all you have to do is wake up every day and decide if you feel like eating this or that, or if you feel like walking your dog here or there.
Or teaching, or not teaching. It doesn’t matter.
You are taken care of. You do not have to make any hard choices.
You have a roof over your head no matter what.
You have a warm coat in the winter no matter what.
All you have to do is overlook the fact that your husband treats you badly. ”
“Irine, that is absolutely not the same—”
“So forgive me if I want a few of those same things in my life.”
“That is a totally false binary—”
“Forgive me if I have learned the hard way that having a goverment tell me what to do or even what to think is worth it, in the end, if I know that my daughter is safe and I have a roof over my head. You would make the same bargain in a minute. You’ve already made the same bargain for less.”
Irine picked up another cigarette but did not light it. “I think,” she finally said, “I think it was not possible for an American to ever really understand our life here. I should not have expected you to.”
“You made a fool of me,” Amy said.
“And you of me,” Irine said. “Without even knowing you were doing so.”
The lari was on the table but Irine did not seem to have noticed it.
Amy could pick it up, put it in her backpack, and be on her way.
But Irine was right; she didn’t really need it.
She’d be home soon. Irine could spend it on the dogs or whatever the grannies needed.
She could get that faucet fixed. And Amy could leave with the dignity of having paid for her room and board.
“I have to head for the airport.”
Irine lit her cigarette. “Thank you for coming to stay with us,” she said. “I wish you a safe flight.”
Amy walked downstairs past the dogs, past Zazi and Phil and dear Angel, who was curled up in a furry halo of white.
How could she not have seen her before? What had always been so clearly in front of her?
“Angel,” she said, “be a good girl,” and the dog looked up.
For a moment they locked eyes, and then Angel lay back down on her front paws, and Amy left for home.