What the Dog Ate (32 page)

“I love this song,” he said. “Will
you dance with me?”

“Sure,” she said taking his
proffered hand.

The dance floor felt slick under
her heels, or maybe it was the three glasses of champagne that made her feel a
little uncertain on her feet. She hoped she wouldn’t fall, but Russell felt
solid as they moved in time to the music, so she let herself relax in his arms.
His hand warmed the small of her back.

“Nice wedding, huh?” he said.

“Yeah. Very.”

“It’s a bummer Brian couldn’t be
here.”

“Yeah.” At the mention of Brian,
Maggie realized that she’d never danced with him. It also occurred to her that
other than wishing he was there to save her from Dippy, she hadn’t thought
about him much today. Not at all really. She felt a little guilty about that,
but then, it had been a very busy day. OK, I’ll think about him now, she told
herself.
I should make him take me out dancing sometime. I
wonder if he’s a good dancer. As good as Russell...
She glanced up at
Russell who smiled down at her until she looked away. She noticed Annie’s
younger sister, Trisha, sitting alone. “You should ask Trisha to dance.”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe.”

“Did you meet her yet? She’s nice.
And obviously gorgeous. And she’s single.
And
she
lives in San Diego.”

“You want me to dance with her or
marry her?”

“I’m just saying she’s a single,
good-looking person. What more do you need?”

He looked over Maggie’s head in
Trisha’s direction. “I guess she’s kind of a cute kid.”

The song ended and the DJ put on
Lady in Red
. “I hate this song,” they said in unison and
walked off the dance floor. Maggie saw James about to drop a big Smurfy blue bite
of cake on his little rented tuxedo pants and hurried to intervene.

The rest of the reception passed in
a bubbly blur. Maggie danced with her brother twice, and later with Humphrey to
Blue Moon
. She did the twist with Russell and,
during the faster numbers, danced by herself or with Shannon. She tried,
unsuccessfully, to avoid Deirdre, Dippy and Delfina. She hugged her mom and
grandmother repeatedly, both of whom commented on how bony she was getting. She
threw herself gratefully, if somewhat sloppily, into Annie’s arms when the
bride announced her intention, after being pressed on the issue by Delfina, to
not
toss the bouquet. Annie said it was too lovely, and
frankly too heavy (“It could hurt someone”), to throw and she planned to have
it dried as a keepsake. As Maggie drank toast after toast, she knew she was
quickly passing from tipsy to buzzed to flat-out drunk, but she didn’t care. It
felt good to let loose and, after all, it wasn’t every day your little brother
got married, right?

When Mom said she was tired,
Grandma and Humphrey said they’d escort her back to the hotel.

“If we didn’t have to get up and
start driving home so early tomorrow, you’d know I’d be here, dancing, all
night, right?” Gram said to Kevin as they all said their goodbyes.

When Maggie hugged her mother
goodbye, Mom whispered, “Honey, I think you’ve had enough champagne. You should
go into the kitchen and see if they have any saltines.”

At the end of the night, when the
music had stopped, the women had kicked off their high heels, and only their
best friends and siblings were left, Maggie heard Kevin, through a fizzy haze,
ask Russell to make sure she got back to the hotel OK. There were more tears as
she said sniffly, sloppy goodbyes and told everyone she loved them. Only she
said, “I luf you guys.”

On the cab ride back, when she
finally had time to sit and be quiet, except for periodic sniffling, she
realized her head was pounding.

“I think I mida had too much
champagne.” She pressed her cold fingers to her temples.

“You are gonna have one heck of a
headache, my dear.” Russell watched her slump against the seat, sinking deep
into her coat. “But I’ll get you some aspirin when we get back.”

Good as his word, Russell saw her
to her room and sat her down on the bed. He went to the bathroom and came back
with water and three ibuprofen.

“Take these,” he held them out to
her.

“I woulden be in this mess if Dave’re
here,” she started to cry after she swallowed the pills. “Owww. My head.”

“Well, don’t cry. You’re just going
to make your head hurt worse. Boy, you are way drunk. You said ‘Dave.’ Don’t
you mean ‘Brian’?” He sat beside her and the bed sank with his weight. She fell
toward him, but decided against fighting momentum. She leaned into his chest
and he put his arm around her.

“No,
Dave
,”
she said. “Dave knows I c-can’t handle champagne. He woulda never let me drink sumuch.”
She sat up and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Dave knew everything
‘bout me. And now I g-gotta start all over. Go through the whole ‘here’re my
ugly s-secrets and my b-bad habits and I h-hope you’ll still like me’ thing. It
sucks.” She put her head back on his chest and snuffled into his shirt.

“I know,” he pulled a strand of
hair that clung to her wet cheek away from her face and tucked it behind her
ear. “Getting your heart broken does indeed suck.”

“Whadda you know about it?” She sat
up, her eyebrows knitted.

“Contrary to my devil-may-care
façade, I’ve had my heart broken before. Really, it’s true,” he added when she
looked at him, disbelieving.

“What happened?”

He sighed. “I was young. Young and
in love. Wow, it’s almost ten years ago. My older brother, Adam, introduced me
to this girl in his study group. He was taking the bar exam.”

“You have a brother? I didden know
that.” She stopped crying.

“Yeah, I do... Anyway, Adam
introduces me to his friend, Kate. We hit it off and started dating. Before I
know it, she’s moved into my place. I’m stupid-happy. I’m thinking, ‘How did I
get this lucky?’ So I decide to ask her to marry me. I set up this whole
elaborate thing; tell her I’m going to L.A. for the day for work, but really I
took the day off, and I’m getting everything rolling for the big surprise.”
Maggie thought back to the things Russell had said during the ceremony about
wanting to share the rest of your life with someone, and her heart ached for
him, knowing his story was about to end very badly.

“I pick up the ring; go to our
favorite restaurant to set everything up; I even talk to the chef about the
best place to hide the ring where she won’t accidentally swallow it. The whole
nine yards. Ten freaking yards, even. Only I’m the one that gets the surprise.”

“Uh oh.”

“Yeah, uh oh. I come home that
afternoon, thinking she won’t even be there and I find her...,” he paused for a
moment and licked his lips. Maggie knew he was seeing the image as clearly as
that day ten years ago. “I find her in bed with Adam. My own goddamn brother.
She didn’t love me. She
never
loved me.”

“That’s awful.” She started to cry
again. “Whyda people have to be so awful? W-why do they have to cheat?” She
hunted for something to wipe her nose on. She’d reached for the end of the
thick gold and beige bedspread when Russell grabbed a tissue off the nightstand
and handed it to her. She blew her nose loudly. She started to sob now, an ugly,
hiccupping cry accompanied by shuddering gasps for breath.

“W-why did Dave have to be such a
r-rat? W-why did he have to leave me? What’s wrong with me? I m-make more money
than what’s-her-name. I even make moh... more money than
him
.
I have bigger boobs than her. I’ve seen her. It’s true. And I’m c-cuter than
her.”

“Maggie, you are cute like the
Sistine Chapel is cute. Like the Grand Canyon is cute.” He pulled her back to
his chest and tried to quiet her. “Dave’s a complete and utter idiot. You’re
better off without him.”

“I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath
as she sat up.

“What? You’ve got nothing to be
sorry for.” He looked into what she knew were red, blood-shot eyes with his
clear blue ones.

She pointed at his shirt. “I got
your nice shirt all wet... and... I sorta w-wiped my nose on your tie.” Her
face wrinkled and she started to cry once more.

~~~

When Russell left, she lay in bed
with one foot on the floor. Her head spun, not just from drinking too many
drinks, but thinking too many thoughts.

She thought about how they’d both
been betrayed. But at least she’d had years, decades even, of mutual love. Poor
Russell, though, had never experienced that. Were you really experiencing love
if you only felt the one side of it? The one-directional flow? No, she didn’t
think so. That was a kind of love, but certainly not the best kind.

It reminded her of a poem they
studied in one of her college Lit classes, something about love being like a
river.
That’s just stupid. Love’s not a river. It doesn’t
go one way on a set path. Unless... it’s unrequited love, I ’spose. Maybe
that’s what the poet meant? But, that’s dumb, cuz if your love’s a river,
nothing’s ever going to come back
at
you. Unless...
your lover’s in a boat maybe... Anyway, it’s stupid
.

Her drunken mind tried to come up
with a better metaphor, her own metaphor for love.
Real
love isn’t one way—it goes back and forth. And it’s involuntary. Maybe...
like... a tornado. No, that’s no good. Too destructive. That’s wrong. No, it’s
like... a dog’s tail. That’s it! True love goes back and forth, and you can’t
control it. You find that person you’re in love with, and it’s gonna wag. And
there’s no stopping it
.

On the long flight home, Maggie had
a lot of time to think. Resting her still throbbing head (she could feel her
pulse in her eyeballs) on the pathetic dumpling-sized standard issue plane
pillow, she closed her eyes.

First she thought about Russell and
his story. The poor guy. He’d been burned pretty damn badly. She’d been scalded
in the third degree herself, but at least she hadn’t walked
in
on them. And...
ick
. It made
her shiver to think of walking in on Dave with her own—no; that was too
horrifying to even contemplate. Besides, it was ridiculous.
Shay would never in a million years...
Last night,
thinking about the enormous double betrayal Russell had suffered and her
empathy for him
and
all that alcohol had made her
more than a little tempted to comfort him. She’d actually thought that in her
head, “comfort him;” only what she meant was: “kiss the hell out of him.” She’d
wanted to hold him and make him forget he’d ever known that horrid Kate. And
Adam as well.
What a rotten brother. No wonder he never
mentioned the rat bastard
.

But now, in the harsh light of day,
she was relieved that she hadn’t made a pass at him. That was just a crazy,
drunken thought. Everything was embarrassing enough as it was. She groaned
inwardly thinking how much worse she’d be feeling if she’d thrown herself at
him. He’d have no doubt turned her down while looking into her tear-, snot-,
and drool-smeared face.

No, he’d been a total sweetie.
After she’d ruined his tie, he’d softly said, “It’s OK,” and taken it off. Her
heart beat hard as she realized she was hoping he’d take his shirt off next,
but he’d stood up, picked up her pajamas off the nightstand, and told her she
better get some sleep.

He’d waited while she got ready for
bed, (horrified by the red Rorschach splotches on the face in the mirror, she’d
stayed in the bathroom as long as possible) and then tucked her in. He’d
applied his cool lips to her hot forehead and left.

How
embarrassing
. But that was the other great thing about Russell. She’d
seen him at the hotel this morning, looking bright-eyed while she hid behind
dark sunglasses, and he’d told her there was nothing to be embarrassed about.
She’d told him she couldn’t believe she’d gotten so worked up again over Dave.
“I don’t even really think it was Dave so much as the idea of Dave,” she’d said
as he helped her carry her luggage out to her rental car. “The idea of thinking
I was happily settled. I don’t know. I thought I was doing really well with the
whole divorce thing, but maybe not so much.”

“Weddings are always hard to get
through after a breakup, not to mention the holidays. And, in case you weren’t
aware, alcohol is a depressant. And that cousin of yours, holy cow. I heard her
grilling you all through dinner. Talk about a depressant.” He’d waited by the
trunk while she fumbled in her purse for her keys, trying to function without
taking off her gloves.

“Did you hear all that? I couldn’t
get her to stop.”

“I didn’t hear all of it, but I
heard enough.”

“Well, thanks. That makes me feel
better.” She’d held up the keys to show her success and opened the trunk. “I
better get going. Thanks again.”

Russell was on a later flight out
that day so he’d hugged her goodbye and said he’d see her back in San Diego.

She thought about what he’d said,
about the alcohol and Dippy and the wedding combining to make her depression
mount a sneak attack. She really had thought she was doing so well, so “great,”
as she kept insisting to her aunt and cousins. But now she realized there was
still this dark spot, deep within her. She pictured it like a growth, or a
lump, wiggly and amorphous.
Like that nasty sourdough
starter. A slimy lump of sour-Dave-starter. Just add alcohol and the yeast gets
going and next thing you know you’ve got a full-on loaf’s worth of depression
to deal with
.

Good grief,
what’s Christmas going to be like? And New Year’s... Maybe I should swear off
alcohol for the holidays. Especially champagne
.