On the Divinity of Second Chances (25 page)

“Go home, you crazy old bat,” he shouts. I shake my head in utter amazement and disgust. He never learns. I approach him with the patience of a saint, grant him chance after chance, and still, he persists with name-calling.

I walk over and open the gate to his horse corral. I take a few more steps and open the pig pen. Dean’s livestock makes a break for it. While he chases them, I get his hose and soak his burning barrel. I hang the hose over the edge of it, so it begins to fill up with water, then turn and walk home.

Mess with the bull, Dean, and you’ll get the horns.

The Moon on Phil and Anna’s Waxing Love
(July 22)

The moon saw it all, and the moon understood. Just as the moon gets a little fuller each night when it’s waxing, so did the hearts of Phil and Anna.

On the first night, Anna showed up at the house at seven o’clock. Phil put on music and extended his hand to her. Anna took it. They danced. It became more smooth and natural. At eight o’clock, Phil looked at the clock apologetically. Anna walked to the back door and smiled to tell him she had a good time. He smiled back and then walked her to her tree house.

On night two, Anna showed up at seven o’clock. Phil was better dressed than the previous night. He put on music, extended his hand, and she took it. With a small but clear movement, he spun her in to him. She put her hand on his shoulder. He looked down at her, inhaled deeply, smelling the perfume she had dabbed behind her ears. He danced with greater confidence. She danced with greater confidence. At eight o’clock, he looked at the clock, but didn’t say anything. She saw him looking, though, and noticed it herself. She took his hand and walked to the door. She gave it a little squeeze before she let it go. With his eyes, he told her he knew she had caught him not wanting to tell her it was time to stop, and laughed at himself for this violation. Then he opened the door and walked her all the way to the ladder. She watched him walk back to the house. He looked back at her before going in, and she gave him a sexy smile.

Anna showed up at six fifty-five on the third night. Phil offered her a glass of red wine. She accepted. Phil put on music and held his hand out to her. She took it and moved in to him like a breeze. She caught her breath. They danced, moving toward each other and away from each other, push, pull, push, pull, twist and step, twist and step. Their knees, bent, low to the ground. Big steps. Legs seemingly entwined, but well within their boundaries, complying with the agreement made. The hour seemed very long this time as their desire for each other grew. She watched the clock closely, a little flushed. Phil didn’t know how much he could take. At eight o’clock, she stopped, put her hand on his cheek, and looked deeply into his eyes. He looked at her lips. He wanted those lips. He began to move in for the lips, but she ran out of the house and closed the door behind her. This is when Phil knew he had her.

On the fourth night, Anna showed up at six forty-five. Phil offered her a glass of red wine and she accepted. She drank it quickly and had another. Phil put on music. He held his hand out and she walked right into his space, right into that space where, like magnets, people are attracted to each other or repelled. He was attracted. She took a long, desirous look at him before taking his hand. He let the hand on her lower back creep a little lower at times. She let her hand on his shoulder creep up to his neck and play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He was aroused. She was aroused. At eight o’clock, she walked out the door to the tree house with him still holding her hand behind her. She turned and looked at him one more time, but before she could start up the ladder, he put his hands on her face and looked at her with the kind of desire she hadn’t seen since they were teenagers. He wanted to kiss her so badly. She smiled and shook her head, afraid to disobey Martina, Martina who had brought them this far in only a week. But, oh, the tension. She could not stand it. She pushed him away, ran up the ladder, and watched him strut back to the house.

Phil came home at six o’clock on the fifth night. The music was already on. Anna was dressed in a black linen shirt with the top four buttons left unbuttoned. She had made linguini puttanesca. He loves linguini puttanesca. He spun his fork in the noodles and brought them to his lips. A few broke free, so he had to slurp them. Anna leaned forward enough to give him a peek down her shirt and watched his lips. He sipped his wine and locked eyes with her. She sipped her wine and held his gaze. With his eyes, he told her this was the most delicious meal he had ever eaten. This is where she knew she had him.

At seven o’clock, he held out his hand to ask her to dance. She took it. He pulled her in to him. She assumed the dance position. He pulled her closer. They tangoed low across the floor. Though their faces were only a couple inches apart as they danced, they did not kiss. Their eye contact was broken from time to time when one of them looked at the other’s lips. I want to kiss you, this glance said. Oh, I want to kiss you. But they trusted Martina’s wisdom in the ways of love and refrained. The sexual tension built as they danced and danced. It built and built and built. Neither of them looked at the clock to see it was eight o’clock. Or nine. Or ten. Finally, Phil rested his palm on her cheek, looked at her regretfully, then turned and walked to the door. She followed him. As he reached for the door, she slid her arms under his from behind, and wrapped them around his chest. He put his hands on hers and caressed them. He spun around within her hold and placed his palm on her cheek again, looking so deeply into her eyes, he thought they were surely merging. She put a hand behind his neck to pull him closer to her. He inhaled her smell. Intoxicating. He wanted so badly to kiss her. But they should not. Martina told them not to. Martina had gotten them this far. Oh, but her lips, her eyes, her smell, her magnetism. He could not stand it any longer. He kissed her like a soldier going off to war. My God, they had passion again.

Anna on the Third Dance Lesson
(July 22)

Martina cracks the door to see Phil guiding me up the stairs with one hand on my back. “You have not talked?”

We shake our heads.

“You have practiced every night?”

We nod and smile a little bigger.

“You have not made love?”

We shake our heads and laugh, a little embarrassed.

“You have not kissed?”

I smile at Martina apologetically, and feel my cheeks begin to burn. Phil looks away.

“You have kissed!” she scolds.

I look down, but I’m not sorry.

“Phil, Anna, assume your dancing position. Take a step, step, step, step, now here, you are going to dip her like this. Firmly. Let her know she is in good hands. Before you pull her up, look at her. She is vulnerable. She is in your arms. She is trusting you. She is yours. Look at her. Isn’t she beautiful? She is yours. Now pull her up to you, keeping her close as you do this. Now step, step, step, step, and Anna, wrap your leg around him. No man can resist that. Do you know what that does to him? You are a tease. You love it. Phil, dip her again, but like this, this time. You have turned the tables. She teased you, but you are telling her turnabout is fair play. And back up. And step, step, step, step, now Anna take your hand off his shoulder, with palm open wide. Run your hand up his cheek and up, up, straight up and hold. Phil, pivot her like this and this. Anna, you are going to look away. Look here and here. Now back to eye contact. Step, step, step, step. Phil, swing her out like this, and swing her back tightly. Hold her for a minute. Notice how small she is in your arms. Now step, step, step, step. Good. Now, Phil, you may choose any of those variations and ask Anna to follow with clarity in your hands. Savor each one. Let the tension build.”

Martina leaves us again, going off to the corner to tango by herself. And when I look in Phil’s eyes now, I no longer see questions; I see smoldering.

At eight o’clock, she turns down the music. “Tonight, you will go home and sleep in the same bed. You will burn a red candle all night. You will not talk. You will not make love for a week. You may do everything else. We are finished now. I have taught you the ways of love.”

Phil on Kissing
(July 23)

Anna and I run out of the studio and stumble down the stairs as we kiss, frenzied. I hold her soft, delicate hand as we run to the car. We kiss in the car while I put the key in and start the engine. We kiss like we have not kissed in decades. I speed home as she kisses my neck, my ear, my cheek. I park and kiss her. She crawls onto my lap. Oh. I open the door, and stand with her still clinging to me, kissing me. She puts her feet down and runs into the house, to a drawer in the kitchen where she finds a red candle left over from Christmas. She holds it up victoriously. I take her other hand, hurriedly run to the bedroom, and light the red candle.

Grace on Jade’s Closure
(July 24)

It was because she couldn’t bring herself to call the
Mont Soleil Journal
to cancel her ad after she had given up, that someone called Jade and said they saw a half rottweiler partway between Rock Creek and Copper Mountain. They said it was dragging a rope or something behind it. He had tried to catch the dog to take it to the shelter, but it wouldn’t let him near it. Jade put posters out there, out in the middle of BLM land where there aren’t many places to hang a poster. She put her dirty T-shirts out there, each with a card in a ziplock explaining what the shirt was for and what to do if they saw a dog lying on it. It was a tip from Ranger Guy, who found many lost dogs for people that way. Lost dogs smell the shirt, lie on it, and wait. When Jade first got a call from the man who thought he saw Aretha, she cried. She cried the rest of the day. Could it really be her? she dared to wonder.

Another man called a couple days later to say he, too, saw a dog out there that looked just like the one on her poster. He described the spot. She went out there and searched, but all she found was a camp where two guys who looked like militia members, tattooed and missing teeth, lived with their dogs, one of which was half rottweiler and half shar-pei. It barked ferociously at her as she walked by, standing up and pulling on its rope. It looked nothing like Aretha to her, but she knew others had mistaken this dog for hers.

And it was because Jade put new signs out in that vicinity, out in the middle of nowhere, that a week later, a woman called Jade and asked her if she had found her dog. Jade told her she hadn’t. The woman said she didn’t know how to tell her this, but there was a dead dog matching her dog’s description at the high point between Rock Creek and Fairfield, just off the West Road by the rocks. She explained that if it were her dog missing, and someone found a body, she would want to know. So although it was a hard call to make, she made it. Jade thanked her for calling, but inside, Jade really didn’t think it would be Aretha. She had gone on so many wild-goose chases.

Jade drove out the West Road, way out to the general vicinity the caller had described, and began walking. She no longer had faith any of these callers knew what they were talking about. Jade was so tired—tired and irritated. As she walked, she pondered how naïve she must have been to have ever thought the universe compassionate. She walked and walked, but found nothing. Finally, she yelled at the sky, “Will you please help me find this dead dog?” I hovered above Aretha and blew her smell toward Jade. Two angels came to help blow with me. It worked. Jade felt a gust of wind come out of the southwest, carrying on it the smell of death. Jade walked quickly, following it to the steepest side of the top of a little knob.

There, head downhill, and one back leg caught in a sage-brush, she found what remained of Aretha. Her skeleton was intact, and most of the fur on her legs, back, and head. Her guts had been eaten out, her eyes, too, and the inside of her mouth. Her tongue was gone. A few chunks of skin and fur other animals had ripped off of her were in the same bush as her leg.

“Oh . . .” The reality began to sink in. “Oh, sweet girl. Oh, my puppy girl. Oh, my baby dog,” Jade cooed through her tears. I put my hand on Jade’s shoulder.

Jade inspected the remains without touching them, studied her lower jaw to make sure the same bottom tooth was missing, studied the pads of her paws, and her toenails. Her nose looked shorter. Her face looked different, Jade guessed mostly because her mouth was open, but not smiling. When Aretha was alive and opened her mouth, the corners turned up and made dimples. Aretha had the best smile of any dog Jade had ever seen. Now there was bird shit on her head.

I told Jade, “Aretha’s fine, honey. She says, ‘Don’t cry for me. Don’t cry for me.’ ”

Jade studied the body more, looking for any clue about what had happened. Aretha had obviously been dumped. It clearly looked like someone had backed up to the high point, a place where people parked and drank, and just dumped her over the edge. Jade wondered what Aretha experienced and examined what was left of her corpse to see if there was a bullet in her, to see if someone had brought her out here and shot her for fun, but she found no bullet holes. Jade wanted to know if Aretha had experienced brutality. “Oh, sweet girl, what did they do to you?” she screamed through her tears.

“She says, ‘I had no pain,’ ” I told her, but Jade couldn’t hear me anymore. Jade wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth. I sat behind Jade and held her, rocking back and forth with her.

Jade thought of how she’d longed to feel Aretha’s velvety ears, her sweet, velvety ears just one more time, and so she reached out and stroked them, and then drew her hand away, spooked. They didn’t feel the same. They were no longer silky; her fur felt stiff and starched. Jade extended her hand again and stroked the fur on Aretha’s head, and on her back, and stuck her finger in the space between all the pads on the bottom of her paw. With one finger, she stroked the fur that went up the bridge of Aretha’s nose.

At first, Jade contemplated what a miracle it was just to find her beloved dog after all these weeks. She thought about all the things that had to happen in order to lead her here. She was thankful for closure. And even though her dog was dead, she still felt like she had found her dog again. She still felt reunited. She sat on the hill next to the corpse, stroking it, looked across the valley, and for one calm moment, felt Aretha’s spirit sitting next to her, not in the corpse, but behind her, leaning on her. The moment passed, and she began to cry.