Elizabeth Wrenn - Second Chance

‘ Oh, God ! Oh, how gross! Oh –my–God! ’ She pivoted, her pink puffy slippers scuffing back up the stairs, her complaints continuing to drift down. ‘Oh, gag me, why don’t you! First this, then that. Why did we get a stupid—’ Her bedroom door slammed.

I looked down at Heloise again; she was enthusiastically reconsuming her breakfast. I turned away. I figured she couldn’t be too sick if she was so eagerly eating it again, but I thought I might be sick. I stood at the sink, my hands gripping the counter. I looked out the window at the new day starting as I listened to the happy smacks behind me.

I couldn’t face food. I pulled out several boxes of cereal from the pantry and left them on the counter. The kids would have to fend for themselves this morning. I took Heloise upstairs with me.

Neil was in our bathroom, shower on, door closed. I pulled our bedroom door shut and let Heloise roam. I’d put safety plugs in all the empty sockets and otherwise baby-proofed the bedroom, so I knew she was safe. Plus, she’d peed less than twenty minutes ago. I pulled on my jeans and a sweatshirt. I found my sneakers and was sitting on the edge of the bed tying the second one when Neil emerged from the bathroom in his robe, a towel around his neck.

‘Hey. Where’d you sleep?’

I stared at him, then said, ‘I took Heloise into Sam’s room so she wouldn’t bother you all night. Remember?’

He ran the towel over his ear and wet hair. ‘Not really. Where’s the dog now?’ He said ‘the dog’ like the words were large cotton balls rolling out of his mouth. But he was smiling.

I pointed. ‘She’s right there.’ Heloise was emerging from our small walk-in closet where she’d been exploring. She looked up, saw Neil, and I swear to God she smiled as she ran to him, her wagging rump making her course across the bedroom floor zigzag slightly. She jumped at his ankles, begging for his touch.

‘Hello,’ he said, tentatively reaching down to her. She happily wrapped her teeth around his finger in greeting.

‘Ow!’ He jerked his finger back, straightening.

I dashed over and picked her up. ‘Sorry. She must be teething. I’ll take her into the bathroom with me so you can dress.’

Neil glared, massaging his finger.

Safely in the bathroom, I closed the door. I set her on the damp bath rug, which I immediately had to pull from her mouth. I put it in the tub, and she turned her attention to sniffing the floor. I had just started brushing my teeth when Neil yelled.

‘ Jesus H. Christ! ’

I opened the door, toothbrush still in my mouth, and saw Neil, white-faced in the closet. His right hand gripped the hanger bar. His robe had come undone; his temper was not far behind. His right ankle was propped against his opposite knee in a kind of sideways flamingo pose. A small, smashed brown pile was on the floor under him. The rest was between his toes. A foul odor filled the room.

‘Oh, Neil! I’m so sorry. I took her out just a few minutes ago. She— I—’

‘Could you get me something to wipe this mess on, please?’ he said evenly, his face now filling with color.

‘Oh! Yes! Sorry.’ Careful to keep Heloise confined, I darted back into the bathroom and emerged with a roll of toilet paper. I unwound a wad and began to pull the mess off his foot. He grabbed it from me, doing the job himself. He dropped the tissue onto the pile and hopped, an angry pogo stick, into the bathroom. I followed him, grabbed Heloise, and retreated. The door slammed behind us and I listened as the tub faucets came on.

I looked at the poop and sighed. This was not turning out to be what I had pictured. I was beginning to wonder what I had pictured. Me and puppy rolling around in a flower-filled meadow. Me and puppy out in the world. Me and puppy creating a whole new life for me. Basically, a TV commercial.

It occurred to me, as I stood holding the contented Heloise in my arms, that any commercial that uses an adorable little puppy to sell their product should be required to also show dog poop oozing through the toes of an angry spouse. And if we’re going for truth in advertising, then ads with cute little babies should also show complicated, remote teenagers. Or the empty bed of a son who left for college and has barely been heard from since.

Everyone should have to tell the ending, if they’re going to lure you with a beginning.

NINE

Neil left for work without another word to me. The kids had also made a hasty departure, walking the six blocks to school. They usually begged me to drive them. I usually did. But this morning, they’d dashed out without a word.

Now it was just me and Heloise. She was sniffing around the kitchen. I was sitting at the desk, staring sightlessly ahead, my hands wrapped gratefully around a mug of coffee. Heloise made her way over to the baby gate I’d put across the entrance to the living room. The other entrance to the kitchen, the front hallway, had a door, which was now securely closed. I’d found out the hard way that Heloise could push open doors if they weren’t fully latched. She’d nosed her way out of our bedroom, and I’d had a few panicked moments looking for her, again worried she might fall down the stairs. I’d found her in the kids’ bathroom, enthusiastically snacking from Hairy’s litter box. If I was to last with this puppy, I was going to have to work on my gag reflex.

I’d put three chew toys on the kitchen floor for her to choose from, but she was too busy exploring. I smiled at her concentration, her whole body involved in reconnaissance. I turned back to my coffee, sipping slowly, needing the gestalt of the coffee – the smell, the warm ceramic in my hands, looking into its quiet blackness – as well as the drug. I raised the mug to my lips, just about to take a sip, when I heard a horrible scraping sound. I spun back around.

‘ No , Heloise!’ I pulled her off a cabinet, wincing at the tooth gouges in the wood. I set her in the center of the floor and put the little blue rubber bone in her mouth. She placed one of her big paws over it and began chewing, her teeth squeaking against the rubber. I sank with a thud into the desk chair and took a sip of coffee. I pulled the note pad toward me and began a list of chores for the day: #1 – Vacuum upstairs spots . I’d gotten more trophies, and now little gold swimmers guarded both of Heloise’s spots, each covered with carpet foam.

I’d just put pencil to pad to write another chore, when I heard it again. Gnawing on wood. I spun around. This time she was working on the sink cupboard.

‘ Heloise! No – er, stop! ’ I tucked her under my arm and dug out the bottle of bitter spray that had come in my starter kit. I sprayed all the cabinets at her level, using almost half the small bottle.

‘Okay. That ought to do it,’ I told her, setting her back down in the middle of the kitchen with her bone.

I added some hot coffee from the pot to my mug, took a sip, then finished my list of chores. When I looked up, Heloise had fallen asleep, on her side, in the middle of the kitchen floor. Her little ear flopped over backward and her toes were twitching. She looked completely innocent and darling. I looked at her and sighed.

I suddenly realized there was no time to waste. Nap time is a mom’s most productive time. I couldn’t vacuum, that would wake her, so I quietly grabbed the dust mop from the closet and stepped over the baby gate. Heloise immediately woke up and rushed to the gate.

‘Oh, baby,’ I said, stepping like a large wading bird over the gate, picking her up and stepping back over again. ‘Why couldn’t you stay asleep?’ She licked my chin. I smiled. ‘Okay, you stay here with me, where I can keep an eye on you.’