make her feel more claustrophobic than comforted?
“I’ll go with you,” Gary says.
I look at him over Charlotte’s ears. “To the workshop?”
“I’ll drive with you. You can drop me at my mother’s—I’ll get points for visiting her and raking some leaves—and then you can pick me up when you’re done with the seminar. The Puppets can watch the dog and Teddy.”
“Maybe I’ll stay at your mother’s the first night to save money, then find a cheap hotel for the second night.”
“Good. It’ll give us time to talk.”
“Time to talk about what?”
He flops onto the pillows, then rolls over and away, back to his side of the bed. “Oh Judy. I give up.”
Off to See the Forehead
Two days later, on a chilly, bright blue morning, we’re packed and ready for the weekend—we’ve done a huge food shop for us and a smaller one for Glenn, including making sure she has all her meds and that friends are coming to check on her while we’re away; left Gary’s mother a voicemail about our last-minute visit; let the school know that the People Puppets would be driving Teddy to and from school today; taped a list of our cell phone numbers and emergency contact numbers—pediatrician, veterinarian, and take-out vegetarian—to the refrigerator. Gary takes our bags out to the car while I throw a notebook and a bunch of Sharpies into my bag just in case inspiration strikes early and I start writing or drawing before the workshop. Then I wave at Phoebe, who’s lurking just outside the kitchen, to come in. I have things—important things—to show and tell her before we go.
“We got you a whole bunch of new food,” I say, opening the refrigerator door. “Healthy food! Vegan food! Puppets-from-Vermont food!” I don’t register Phoebe’s frozen and fading smile. “Kale-this and quinoa-that.”
Phoebe blinks, looks miserable. “Great.”
I touch her lightly on the arm. “Don’t worry. We’ll only be gone two days.”
She looks at me like I have a bird on my head.
I open the freezer and the cabinets above it. “Teddy eats regular food. Frozen pizza. Chicken fingers. Cereal. You know, teenage-boy stuff.” I roll my eyes like I can’t believe he’s related to me, even though just saying all those words makes me suddenly want to eat all his food. “With kids you just have to pick your battles sometimes.”
She seems oddly interested in what’s in the freezer and the cabinets now, trying to peer around me and my hair, but I assume it’s because she’s horrified by my parenting and is making mental notes to regale her puppet friends later. “Here are all the emergency numbers,” I drone on. “Our cell phones, and the vet’s number, though I’m sure the dog will be fine.
“Speaking of the dog.” I lift the sling off and put it over Phoebe’s neck. She tries to extract her ponytail out from under the back of it but the sling is too heavy and she gives up. I feel weightless and empty and anxious suddenly without the extra twenty pounds of living breathing pet on me. The dog doesn’t look much better: inches away from me, hanging from around Phoebe’s neck, she looks terrified. Or maybe she’s completely relieved. Like every Yelp review I’ve ever read (“It’s the best restaurant!” “It’s the worst restaurant!”), there’s simply no way to tell—it could be either extreme.
“So I really have to wear this?” Phoebe asks, trying again to free her ponytail and finally succeeding.
“You don’t have to, but you might want to throw it on once or twice a day. For, like, a few minutes, or an hour, or two, or three. I find it actually helps me feel centered. I just wouldn’t want the dog to feel totally abandoned and have to go completely cold turkey by not being worn at all. That would be weird. For her. Don’t you think?” I rub my stomach, since I can suddenly. I could swear Phoebe rolls her eyes but again I’m not entirely sure. When there’s nothing in the house left to show her, and nothing left to say, I leave her alone in the kitchen. Free of the dog, I run quickly, moving easily down the basement stairs to check on things before we leave. I haven’t been down there since they moved in.
There are no boxers or bras hanging from the lampshades; no bongs, still warm and fragrant, in plain sight. Just duffle bags spilling with socks and sweaters and sweatpants, and a soft pile of sheets and a comforter