Brendan home?”
“Hi, Alison. No, he’s not. He went to a bagpipe festival in the Catskills this weekend,” she said.
Shit. “Good for him!” I said, trying to sound happy that Bagpipe Kid had a life outside of being my personal manservant. “I just wanted to thank him for feeding Trixie today,” I lied. She informed me that she had another son but he was out of pocket, too, something about a basketball tournament. I looked down and Trixie stared up at me, a pool of drool forming at our feet. We chatted a few more minutes about Brendan’s love for Trixie and I asked her how he was doing before I hung up. She said that he was really getting back to being his old self and that made me happy. “Well, Trixie, my friend, it looks like you’re going on a sleepover,” I said. She responded by wagging her tail vigorously. “At least you don’t need to pack a bag.”
I did everything I needed to do in record time—including shaving my legs—coaxed Trixie into my car, and started off for Crawford’s apartment. I headed south on the Saw Mill, smiling more than I had in over a year. I looked in the rearview mirror and took a look at Trixie, who seemed happy to be out of the house and embarking on some adventure with me. I felt a pang of guilt that I left her alone so much.
I found a parking spot a few blocks west of Crawford’s building and wedged myself into the space. I took my bag out of the backseat and grabbed Trixie’s leash, the two of us trotting down the street.
The river was at my back and the sun was setting, casting a purple glow over the city streets. I didn’t look out of place in this residential neighborhood; several people who passed me were also walking dogs and we acknowledged each other as members of the secret world of people who like each other only because we all own dogs. Trixie stopped to sniff the ground a few times and I pulled her along, anxious to get to our final destination.
We arrived at Crawford’s building and I pressed the buzzer outside the front door. He buzzed me in and stood at the top of the stairs, waiting and watching as I let myself in.
“Trixie?” he asked, and I let go of the leash, allowing her to bound up the stairs to greet him. She licked his face, something I was hoping to do shortly. I followed behind.
“Brendan’s got a bagpipe festival in the Catskills this weekend, so I had to bring her.” I made my way up the long flight of stairs and threw my bag at him. “Thanks for the help with my bag.”
He laughed and picked it up from the floor. “Come on in.”
I went into his apartment; he had lit candles all over the room and set the table with wineglasses and nice dishes. A pizza sat in the middle of the table, as did a nice bottle of red wine. “Crawford,” I said, “you’ve out-done yourself.”
He put his arms around me and kissed me. “I spare no expense when it comes to you.”
Trixie began exploring the room, sniffing in different corners and wandering into the bedrooms. She came out of Crawford’s bedroom with a dirty gym sock in her mouth and set about chewing it.
Crawford handed me a glass of wine. “Thanks for coming.”
“Isn’t that a little presumptuous?” I asked. “We haven’t done anything yet.”
He burst out laughing. “I have high hopes.” He poured more wine into my glass. “I have cannolis again.”
I perked up. I love cannolis and he knew it.
“It has been my dream to watch you eat a cannoli,” he said.
“Oh, and I won’t disappoint, my friend,” I said, and took another sip of wine. The heat went through me, settling into a nice, warm glow in my stomach.
Crawford got up and went over to the stereo in the corner of the apartment. “How about some music?” he asked and turned on the receiver. Loud strains of music with a Latin beat—Santana’s “Oye Como Va”—blasted through the speakers, surprising him. He jumped back, seemingly moved by the sound of the music.
I jumped up and started to dance. “No, leave it!” I called over the din.
“This isn’t what I had in mind!” he shouted back.
I continued to dance toward him, singing along with the music. “Oye como va…Hey, mister…I’m not wearing a bra…” I sang, the words that