My Boyfriends' Dogs (19 page)

I take another drink and finish the whole glass. “Louie, this is about the best glass of water I ever drank. My compliments to your chef.”

“That would be me, you know,” Rune says.

“Hey, I'm the guy who got the water,” Colt protests.

I feel like I've known these people forever. But it's almost three in the morning, and I must be keeping them from their real lives, their families. “I'm sorry I've gone on and on. I know you're staying here because of me. I should go.”

“You can't leave yet,” Louie says in that low, broken voice of his. He points to my dress. The dress is still damp, and scratchier than ever. I think it may be shrinking. “You still haven't explained that gown there. I believe that was the agreement.”

Talking about Went and Mitch was fun. It almost felt like I was talking about another Bailey, like those events in my life happened so long ago, they happened to another person. But the closer the memories get to now, to
me
now, the more painful. I look around our little table, at kind Louie, sweet Rune, and adorable Colt, who's still a mystery to me. They've stuck it out with me this far. I guess they deserve the whole story. “Okay. But it's kind of a hard story.”

“Love's hard,” Louie says. “Yessir. It's not easy to find real love. And when you do, you got to hold on for dear life.”

I smile at Louie. “Gecko glue.”

“Wait just a minute.” Rune pops up, and his chair tips over, waking up Adam. Shirley barks. “I need to make a phone call. Don't start without me. I want to hear how this turns out.”

Colt sets the chair back up while Rune lumbers to the phone behind the counter.

“Good for you, Rune,” Louie says. He leans on the table and whispers to Colt and me, “I think Rune's calling Fran.”

“Who's Fran? ” Colt whispers back.

“Rune's wife,” Louie answers.

“Rune's married? ” I hadn't pictured Identity-Crisis Guy married. I can't imagine any wife letting her husband leave the house with half a beard and half a head of hair.

“Fran's a sweetheart,” Louie whispers. “Two great boys, too. Rune's a lucky man. I just wish he knew that.”

Louie leans back in his chair and takes a sip of the water Colt brought him. Colt and I grin at each other, like we're in on something together.

Rune's back is to us. His voice is low, but when we're quiet, I can hear his end of the conversation. “I know, Frannie . . . I know . . . I'm sorry, babe . . . And I mean it. About us having it good. Us and the boys . . . Yeah . . . Me too. I love you, Fran. That's what I called to say . . . Ah, don't cry . . . Listen, I'll be home later, when the rain lets up. You go back to bed. Kiss the boys for me . . . Fran? You still there? . . . Tomorrow, let's me and you and the boys do something together. Something family-like . . . What? . . . Six Flags? . . . Sure. We'll take the boys to Six Flags. Night, now. Hey, Fran? Fran? I been thinking. We need to get our boys a dog.”

Rune hangs up, and the rest of us start an animated conversation about the rain and the Cardinals. When Rune joins us at the table, his whole face has changed, the lines softened somehow.

“Everything all right at home, Rune? ” Louie asks.

Rune smiles at his boss. It's the first time I've seen the big guy smile. At least two of his teeth are missing. “Everything's real fine at home, Louie.”

Shirley, my little brown-and-white Shih Tzu, barks again, at the rain, or at Rune, or at Adam, who's gone back under the table. I scoop up Shirley and set her on my lap. But the taffeta and pearls of my ballroom prom dress aren't soft enough for her, and she's squirmy. “Shirley, settle down. It's your turn, girl. Time for your story, so be good.”

The poor little dog, her hair too long, too damp, looks like a drowned rat. I finally settle her on my lap and grin at my eager audience. “I guess you've been waiting for the final act of the Adam and Eve and Shirley show, huh? Time for me to tell you how I ended up in Louie of St. Louie's on the biggest night of my life? ”

“Why the biggest night of your life? ” Colt interrupts. “Sorry. I mean, I guess a prom's a big deal.”

“It is,” I insist. “But it was only part of the plan for the biggest night of my life, if you know what I mean.” I didn't really mean to get into
that,
but the words come out as naturally as if I'm talking to Amber.

Colt bows his head, looking adorably embarrassed. “Ah . . . I just thought maybe you were going to finish off with another bad boyfriend and—”

“Are you kidding? ” I interrupt back. “Eric, a bad boyfriend? ” I lean back and shake my head, remembering the first time I saw Eric, the first time we kissed. “Eric Strang is the perfect boyfriend.”

“So our Bailey finally found the perfect boyfriend?” Louie says. “Mmm-mmm-mmm. I want to hear this story. Not that I haven't liked the first two stories. But I admit I'm partial to happy endings.”

“Go on. Let her talk,” Rune commands. I'm not sure if he's impatient for this story or maybe impatient to get home to Fran.

I take in my audience—three good dogs and three good men—and I recall something I left out of the story of my first fall. That day at Six Flags with Went, and without Went, while I was pouring out my heart to Goofy on that park bench, I remembered something my mom had said about men. I summed it up for Goofy that day: “Goofy, my mom told me once, ‘Don't you listen when people say men are dogs. If only! Dogs love you unconditionally, just like you are. If you find a man who can love you like a dog loves you, you just might have found real love.'”

I haven't thought about that in years. Maybe I'm finally understanding what she was getting at.

Shirley squirms in my lap. I hand her to Colt, who looks like he's not sure what to do with the little dog. “Just hold her while I make a quick trip to the ladies' room, deal? When I come back, I promise to tell the story, the whole story, and nothing but.”

COLT THE NEWSPAPER GUY

I WATCH BAILEY walk back to the john. We all do, three guys who've shared this diner most nights for the past couple of months. I don't have anywhere else to go since my folks moved to Florida and my roommate transferred to Berkeley. So I come here after my last class and do what I've always dreamed of doing. I sit in the corner of a St. Louis diner and read my article in the paper.
My
article, with
my
byline.
The University Beat by Colt Carson.
I've wanted to write for the
Dispatch
since I was five years old. It's all I've ever wanted to do.

Now I'm doing it, and it's not enough. I'm the first freshman at Washington University of St. Louis to score a front-page, top-of-the-fold feature like I had in today's
Post-Dispatch.
Reading my article tonight at Louie's should have made me feel like I had it all. But until that girl walked in here, I don't know if I felt anything seeing my byline above the fold. Maybe I haven't felt much for a long time.

It's funny. I didn't pay much attention when she walked in, even in that dress. People wear all sorts of crazy getups in this city, especially at night. I read the police reports and arrest columns, so I know what I'm talking about. Still, it was like the atmosphere in the room altered. Like we'd been sitting in water, and she walked in and made it carbonated.

I'm the word man, but I can't seem to put this into words. I went back to my paper. But when I finally looked up at her, I couldn't look away. Bailey Daley got inside me right then, I think. I'd never seen anyone like her. Except that once.

I might have recognized her right away when she walked in if it hadn't been for that dress she's wearing and her hair piled up on her head. Maybe not. But she hasn't changed much.

I haven't either. I've lived in St. Louis, Missouri, my whole life and never wanted to live anywhere else. My first job was as a paperboy
.
Then I worked at Six Flags.

I'm not sure when I realized I'd seen this girl before. I want to believe that I at least suspected it the moment she walked into Louie's. Or maybe when I pulled a chair up to her table. Or was it when she told us about Went, about his mother living in St. Louis? Did I start to piece things together then?

I know that while she was talking, while she took us with her to Six Flags, I knew then that this was the girl. I kept listening with a growing certainty as she talked about Went flirting with other girls—how could he possibly have noticed another girl with Bailey on his arm?

Then she got to the point in her story I'd been waiting for, when she sat on that bench and cried over a boyfriend who didn't deserve a girl like her. Until that moment, I'd hated my job at Six Flags. I shouldn't even have been in that Goofy costume. Every other day I was Sylvester the Cat. I only had that old Goofy getup because my grandmother had sewn costumes for Disneyland in the seventies. I snuck in that costume as a joke on my last day of work at Six Flags. I'd landed a job in the mailroom at the
Dispatch.
I thought it would be funny to show up at the park as Goofy. I was just going to tell the crew goodbye and pick up my paycheck . . . and then I saw her.

I listened with Louie and Rune as Bailey kept telling her story about seeing Went and Tweety Bird together, about crying and then feeling Goofy's arm around her shoulder. When she said that, when she actually remembered, I wanted to jump up and make her stop talking. It wasn't possible. I have never believed in coincidences. I'm a newspaperman. I deal in facts.

But there it was—bigger than any coincidence I've ever heard of. A God thing, a divine appointment. And I'm smack in the middle of it.

I was Goofy that day.

I was the guy in the costume who saw the beautiful girl crying on a park bench. I'm the guy whose arm she felt, the one she cried with, the one who cried with her from inside a Goofy costume. Watching Bailey leave the park, limping barefoot, shoes in hand, I couldn't believe any guy would leave her. I still can't.

So I'm sitting here again, feeling things I can't say any more than I could when I was inside that park costume. I used to pray every night I'd run into her someday. Now here she is, and I'm too late. She's found her “perfect boyfriend.” So none of this really matters.

Bailey walks back to our table. She's carrying her shoes, walking barefoot like she did when she left me the first time. Her hair falls around her face as if she's spent hours making it do just that. She's the most beautiful person I've ever seen.

She sits down and smiles at us, warming the room. “Are you guys sure you want to hear this? ”

We assure her we're not going anywhere until she finishes this.

“Okay then.” She reaches over and pets Shirley, who's fallen asleep on my lap. “Here we go.”

shirley
-

“A gecko,” I said, writing it down at the top of the list, under my heading: THE PERFECT BOYFRIEND.

Mom, Amber, and I sat cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, Adam and Eve sprawled in the middle of our little circle. As she'd done every year since kindergarten, Amber was sleeping over on our last night before school started. Only this would be our last last night, our final year of high school.

Mom frowned at my list. “Tell me again why we're doing this.”

“Because you may not have noticed, but in the past my boyfriends haven't exactly been perfect.”

“We've noticed,” Mom and Amber said in harmony.

“Okay.” Amber sighed. “I'll play. How about
college bound
and
focused
? ”

“Good one,” Mom said.

“
Handsome,
of course.” I added it. “And he has to think I'm hot.”

“With extremely large breasts, perfect bod, and hair to die for? ” Amber added.

“Exactly.”

“Is
normal
out of the question? ” Mom pleaded.

I started to object, then remembered Mitch and the Lubinski play. I wrote down
normal
.

“And
polite,
” Mom added.

“Polite? ” Again, I thought of Mitch, how he never helped me on with my wrap, the way Travis and Steve had done for Amber. I don't think I ever went through a door before Mitch did. I added
polite
to my growing list.

“
Respect.
I want a boyfriend who respects me,” I said, writing.

“Excellent,” Mom agreed. “You deserve respect, Bailey.”

“Considerate,
” Amber added.

“Why couldn't he be rich? ” Mom asked, trying to read over my shoulder.