Carolyn Parkhurst - The Dogs of Babel

On our last night there, the night of Mardi Gras itself, as we were getting ready to go out, Lexy opened the suitcase that contained our masks. She handed me a mask with a lion’s face, surrounded by a wild mane.

I was pleased. “Why a lion?” I asked.

“Oh, no reason. I just thought it’d look good on you.”

I must have looked disappointed, because she laughed. “Okay, let’s see,” she said. “I brought you the lion mask because you’re so strong and fierce and wild.” She came up beside me and made a growling sound in my ear. “No one better get in your way.”

“Well, you don’t have to make stuff up.”

She smiled. “There aren’t always reasons for everything. It’s just dress-up. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it, you know. But I guess you are kind of a big pussycat, if that helps.”

“Yeah, thanks, that helps a lot. What are you wearing?”

“I thought we’d go as a matching pair,” she said, and she pulled out a lovely lioness mask, topped with a garland of papier-mâché flowers that seemed to be twined through the fur.

“Perfect,” I said. I turned my mask over in my hands. “I’ve never seen these before. When did you make them? I know you didn’t have time before we left.”

“I was just playing around with designs. I thought I might save them for our anniversary,” she said. “But this seemed like a good opportunity to unveil them.”

“Well, I love them,” I said. “We’ll be the best-dressed couple of the night.”

We went down to the lobby, with our masks still in our hands. We were standing in line at the front desk—our hotel subscribed to the old-fashioned policy of leaving your key with the desk clerk when you went out for the evening—when a woman came up and tapped Lexy on the arm. She was a young woman, very pretty, with dark hair. She was wearing a red ball gown.

“Hi,” she said. “Remember me?”

Lexy turned and stared at her. She didn’t answer.

“From the other night?” the woman said. “Out by the pool? I was hoping I’d run into you, so I could apologize.” She turned to me and explained. “I was coming back from a party, and I’d had a lot to drink, and I’d had a big fight with my husband, and I was sitting there crying, and your friend here was so nice to me, and I really acted horribly. I think I yelled at you, didn’t I?” she said, smiling at Lexy. “And then I just ran away.”

I looked at Lexy. She had turned very pale. “I thought you were someone else,” she said finally. “Your hands were so cold.”

The woman looked at Lexy curiously. “Were they?” she said. “Well, anyway, I just wanted to tell you I was sorry.” She looked down at the mask Lexy held in her hand. “What a great mask!” she said. “Put it on, and let me see!”

Lexy put the mask over her face. She didn’t say a word.

“Oh, that’s just beautiful!” the woman said. “Wherever did you get it?”

I stepped in for Lexy. “My wife makes them,” I said. “I have one, too.” I put it on.

The woman exclaimed over our masks, and then she stood by us, making small talk until it was our turn in line. When she’d finally walked away after apologizing to Lexy one last time, I took Lexy’s hand. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Fine,” she said, and I couldn’t tell by her voice whether she meant it or not. “I guess you were right.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I wish I wasn’t.”

We walked out into the noisy street. It was a warm night, and I began to feel hot under the mask almost immediately. Lexy didn’t speak as we negotiated our passage through the crowds. What was she thinking as we pushed our way through those packed streets, the sweat running down my face beneath my mask? I don’t know. I couldn’t see her face.

We stayed out late, walking through the festivities without really joining in. Lexy didn’t take her mask off once. When we finally returned to the quiet of our hotel room, I lifted the mask from her face.

“Are you all right?” I asked. I took her in my arms, and she rested her head against my chest.

She shrugged.

“You know,” I said, “just because that woman wasn’t Blue Mary doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist. We could go out and look for her right now.”

She shook her head and put a finger to my lips. Then she took my hand and led me to the bed. Slowly, she began undressing me.

“Oh,” I said. “I see.”

When I was naked, she pushed me down gently until I was sitting on the bed. She leaned down and kissed me long and soft. Then she held up one finger, indicating that I should wait a minute. She went into the bathroom.

I settled myself underneath the sheets. It was dim in the room, but when Lexy came in a moment later, I could see that she was wearing a white nightgown and that she had her mask on.

“Ooh,” I said. “That’s unusual. Should I wear one, too?”

She didn’t answer me. She got into bed next to me and pulled the sheet off me. I closed my eyes as she rolled herself on top of me and began to move against me. I could feel the stiff edge of her mask against my face as she lifted herself up and guided me inside her.

“Hey, slow down a little,” I said. “What’s your hurry?” I opened my eyes, and in the moonlight from the window, I saw that Lexy wasn’t wearing the lioness mask. She was wearing Jennifer’s mask. The mask of the smiling girl.

I started to pull away. “No, Lexy,” I said. “Take that off.”

She held me down on the bed and shook her head no.

I could have resisted more. If I could go back to that night, I would. If I could take that moment back, I would lift the mask from her face and kiss her own soft lips. But I didn’t. I let her go on. She made love to me wearing the mask of a smiling girl, and I lay there and let her do it. When I came, I felt as if I had betrayed us both.

That was March. Lexy died in October. We were already running out of time.

The yard is empty. I look around wildly, but Lorelei is nowhere in sight. I know I latched the gate on my way out; I remember the feel of the metal hook in my hand as I fastened it through its loop, and I remember Lorelei jumping up to nose my hand as I pulled on the door to make sure it held fast. But now the gate is standing wide open. The dog is gone, and I know she did not get out of here on her own.

I sit down on the grass, feeling dizzy. Lorelei is gone, Lorelei is gone—I turn the phrase over in my head, looking for a way for it not to be true. It’s my own fault, I know it is. I put Lorelei in danger. I dragged her back to the site of her puppyhood trauma, and I brought her to the attention of men who meant her harm. Which one of the men in that room took my dog? And then I remember Lucas standing next to me, leaning toward me slightly when he heard that Lorelei was a Ridgeback, peering at me with eyes made tiny by the thickness of his face. I guess this must be my prodigal daughter, he’d said. He must have been the one who took her; he must think he still has some claim to her. Some unfinished business with the one who got away. Maybe Remo was in on it, too. But when did they have the chance? It couldn’t have been after the police arrived; there was no time. It must have been during that first part of the meeting, before they brought Dog J in. I remember Lucas excusing himself, saying he had a few things he wanted to take care of. I remember him reading my address off his clipboard and looking me up and down.

I feel a chill run through me as I try to imagine what they’re doing to her now. I’ve got to get her back—but I don’t even know their last names. I’ll go to the police, there’s no other way. I’ll tell them what I know. And maybe they’ll help me find her.