by Julia London
Max leaned against the post. “It really fucking is.”
She beamed with delight. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“Happened, baby. It’s already embedded in your hippocampus.”
Carly laughed. She got in her car, waved once more, and drove away. She was on top of the world. She was flying over everything, looking down at all the poor schlubs who hadn’t had their dogs mixed up with Hazel and a gorgeous scientist. This was what it felt like to fall in love, wasn’t it? She was falling in love. She was in love with life.
This she decided, was going to be a gorgeous, beautiful day.
Sixteen
After Carly left, Max picked up his mail. He hadn’t looked at it in a few days, and as he was sorting through, he found the DVDs of previous years of the National Dog Show he’d ordered for Jamie when they were in Chicago. He decided he would drop them off at his dad’s house on his way to work. Jamie would already be at work, and his dad would probably be off having coffee with the guys.
At his dad’s house, he parked in the street and jogged up to the side door they always used when the garage door was closed. Predictably, his father had left it unlocked. Max carried the mailer with the DVDs into the kitchen and was looking around for something to write a note with when he heard what he thought was someone in the throes of sex.
Stunned, he paused a moment, listening. That was definitely the sound of sexual escapades. He put the package down on the bar and wondered what he should do. Was it a party of one? Jesus, was his dad into porn?
A woman cried out, and Max jumped. That was a living, breathing, moaning woman behind the closed door of his father’s bedroom.
Max backed up so quickly that he hit the wall, and with alarm and adrenaline shooting through him, he vacated his dad’s house so quickly that he forgot to leave a note.
In his car, he sat in the driver’s seat, staring blindly through the windshield, his heart pumping with adrenaline. Who was she? His dad said he had a friend, but . . . but this was highly unexpected.
He put the car into gear and drove away from his father’s house, surprised and unsettled by this sudden turn of events.
His mind was still racing when he reached his office, and he sat down behind his desk and put his head in his hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this for his father. He very much wanted his dad to be happy. But what about Jamie? What about . . . what about the picture of Mom in Dad’s room? And the pillows on Dad’s bed that Mom had embroidered? And shouldn’t they at least have Jamie in a group home before something like this happened? Shouldn’t that be the natural order of things?
Max’s computer pinged, yanking him back to the moment. He glanced at his screen. It was an email from Dr. O’Malley.
Dr. Sheffington:
Please consider this to be your formal invitation to present a summary of your tenure dossier to the Department of Natural Sciences Tenure Committee for consideration. The committee will determine whether or not your request for tenure and the supporting work should be forwarded to the dean and the campus tenure committee for further review. You will have thirty minutes to summarize and take questions from seven committee members. Time and date to follow in a separate email.
Yours, Dr. O’Malley, Department Chair
This was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. What he needed was days of preparation, to ask Drake to workshop the presentation with him so that it was as concise and informative as he could get it. But he’d just started this amazing thing with Carly, and his dad had obviously started something, too, and there was Jamie to consider in the middle of it all, and his mind was a million miles away from his research.
Max’s thoughts continued to race as he taught his introductory class on the body’s nervous system. Fortunately, he’d taught this particular unit so many times he could do it by rote. While his mouth formed words, his mind went over his upcoming presentation, about all he needed to do. About the veil of disappointment that was starting to settle in over him.
He also thought about Carly. Or rather, she was there, perched like a bird above his thoughts, all colors and shapes and sparkling things, whereas his thoughts were generally algorithms and equations and lists.
He thought about his dad, about how this could be the opportunity to speak seriously about moving Jamie to an adult home. Maybe he could at last convince his father that he and Jamie both needed their own lives, especially now since his father appeared to actually have one. Or was this merely recreation for his dad?
Max was so lost in thought that when he dismissed class and was headed back to his office, he didn’t see Alanna until she waved her hand in his face right before he might have bowled her over. “Sorry!” he said. “I didn’t see you.”
She smiled sympathetically. “You must have gotten the email from O’Malley, too.”
He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Yep. So. I guess it’s me and you.”
“Look, Max . . .” Alanna paused, looking around her. “I don’t want this to be weird. I have always admired you and your work. I want to wish you the best of luck.”
He was grateful for that. “I don’t want it to be weird, either, Alanna. You’ve done some really amazing work. I wish the best of luck to you, too, but I don’t think you’re going to need it. They’d be idiots not to put you forward.”
“Thank you, but I think the same about you. You’re an excellent teacher, you know that? You have a knack for making some pretty complex concepts seem simple. And, really, who knows, right? So many factors go into this decision, right?”
She was being modest. “I guess.”
“Well . . . good luck,” she said.
“Good luck to you, too.”
Alanna smiled and walked on.
He watched her go. Intuition was a phenomenon that was not well understood, as it couldn’t really be quantified. But studies had shown that people who trusted their gut instincts were right more often than not. Max’s gut instinct told him Alanna Friedman would be a tenured professor in the next few months. Seeing her had somehow confirmed the inevitability to him—he was going to have to wait for tenure. Again. Which meant grants and other sources of funding for his research would be harder to get. It was just the nature of the beast.
The realization dampened his mood even more.
His mood did not improve as the day wore on, and that night, exhausted by his emotions and dilemmas, he wanted to talk to Carly.
Hazel presented me with a gift today. Would you like to see what it is?
That looks strangely familiar.
Thank goodness. Because all my underwear is accounted for.
What is Hazel doing with them, if I may ask?!?
Sleeping with them. I would take them from her—for safekeeping, of course—but I don’t want to upset my awesome dog and I don’t want to come off as creepy and scare you away. So let’s pretend I never said that.
It would take something weirder than that to scare me away. Speaking of things that don’t belong to us, I found this stuffed in my bag along with my sweater. My plan is to bedazzle it and leave it in your mailbox. It’s called dress for success.
Carly included a photo of his favorite knit cap.
Did you steal my beanie? Because if you did, you are definitely the kind of girl I’ve been wanting to meet for a very long time. Pretty, unafraid to wear big shoulders or lock herself into a skirt, and with her own beanie BeDazzler. I’m falling hard.
Just wait until I dress you. I think I’m falling hard, too. I wish it was Friday.
Me, too
Baxter says good night and kisses to Hazel
Hazel says good night and that she really misses you, which is kind of crazy. Everything is kind of crazy right now.
Max’s mood was somewhat improved the next morning because he got to pick up Bonni
e, the Australian shepherd with the missing back leg. Miranda Hastings, the Austin Canine Coalition manager, led Max through the kennels—where dogs of all shapes and sizes, of all ages and breeds, and all with eager, wagging tails—were waiting for volunteers to come walk them.
“This is Bonnie,” Miranda said when she reached one of the larger kennels. The dog was dancing with delight on her three legs, happy to be noticed. Happy to be picked. Miranda opened the kennel door, and Max went down on one knee. Bonnie planted one front paw on his shoulder.
“She was hit by a car and the owner surrendered her. Couldn’t afford her medical care.”
If Bonnie held a grudge, she didn’t show it. “Anything I need to know?” Max asked. “Any special instructions?”
“Nope. She’s very agile even with the missing leg and supersmart. Aren’t you, Bonnie?” she said, ruffling the dog’s fur. “Aren’t you a good girl?”
Max quickly discovered that Bonnie was so eager to please, it was a little heartbreaking. At least she would get a lot of love in his lab—the students and his two research subjects flocked around her, cooing to her and petting her.
Like Clarence, Bonnie would be joining his labs until she was adopted out or the semester ended. “You can probably count on having her around awhile,” Miranda had said. “Disabled dogs, old dogs, and black dogs are always the last to go.”
After Bonnie was picked up by an ACC volunteer that afternoon, Max went home to collect Hazel, then headed to his father’s house. He’d thought about it, and he’d decided that he was going to talk seriously to his dad about finding a place where Jamie might be comfortable and could live a little more independently.
When Max opened the side door, Hazel raced ahead, running for Jamie’s room like she did every time she was in this house.
Max found his father in the kitchen. He had the oven door open and was checking on something inside. “Oh, hey, buddy!” he said cheerfully when he glanced up to see Max.
“Hi, Dad.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I made some chicken Parmesan tonight. It’s a new recipe.”
“Smells delicious,” Max said. He went to the fridge and opened it and grabbed a beer.
“Max!”
He turned toward the hall as Jamie came barreling in, grinning. “Dog show,” he said, and held up the case for the DVD.
“Great, you got it,” Max said.
“Got it,” Jamie said. He turned around and went back down the hall.
“He’s been building one of those ships in a bottle,” his father said. “He’s obsessed with it. It’s good! A very painstaking process, too—I wouldn’t have the patience for it, but Jamie? He spends all evening back there working on that and watching dog shows.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty self-sufficient in a lot of ways,” Max said. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you about that.”
“Me, too, son,” his father said, and pulled out some lettuce and vegetables from the refrigerator. “I’ve got some ideas.”
That was unexpected. “Oh. Great. So do I. I, ah . . . I stopped by—”
“Yoo-hoo!”
The woman’s voice startled Max so badly that he knocked his beer bottle against the counter. Hazel, hearing the intruder, came racing out of Jamie’s room, barking wildly. She tried to negotiate a turn toward the front door but missed and slammed into a barstool. But she bounced back up and carried on with her mission.
“Well, aren’t you a cutie,” the woman said, presumably to Hazel, and then Max heard the unmistakable sound of heels coming down the hall from the front door . . . the front door they never used. Max looked at his dad.
His dad was beaming just like he had been the day he told Max he had a date. Beaming like he’d bought a Maserati. “Hey, could you put Hazel in the yard?” he asked Max. He was moving, wiping his hands on the apron Max’s mother used to wear and striding toward the front door that no one ever used.
Max put down his beer bottle. He whistled at Hazel, walked to the back door, opened it, and sent her out. When he stepped back into the kitchen he heard the whispering and the giggling and then, with a wince, he realized he was hearing the definite sounds of kissing. He turned toward the stove so that he could get his shit together. And when he turned around, his dad was walking into the kitchen with a woman on his arm.
The woman was attractive, petite, with a neat blond bob and a slender figure. She was so tanned that he instantly thought of a tanning bed.
“Oh my! Who is this tall drink of water?” she asked, boldly looking Max up and down.
“This is my son Max,” his dad said. “Dr. Sheffington on campus.”
“You weren’t kidding when you said he was handsome,” she said appreciatively. “If I’d known that, I might have asked him out for a drink!”
Max flinched at the idea, but his father laughed. “Max, this is Evelyn. She’s the reason I’m glad you stopped by this evening.”
Max was stunned, but he managed to walk around the end of the kitchen bar and offer his hand. “Hello, Evelyn. Very nice to meet you.”
She took his hand in both of hers and squeezed it warmly. Max realized, dumbly, that she was speaking, but he hadn’t heard a word she said because he was still trying to wrap his head around this idea that his dad was dating. That there was another woman in his dad’s life who wasn’t Mom. That this wasn’t a recreational thing, this was a real thing. He couldn’t get over how happy his dad looked. Ridiculously happy. Besotted.
“Wine, Evelyn? I am making my specialty—chicken Parmesan! It’s a new recipe.”
“Well, that sounds lovely. And, yes, Toby, I would very much like a glass of wine.”
Max stood firmly rooted to his spot, amazed once more. His dad didn’t drink wine. He’d never seen a bottle of wine in this house in all his life.
“Would you like me to get it?” Evelyn offered.
And she’d been around enough that she knew where this phantom bottle of wine was?
“No, no, you sit. You are our guest. Max can get it,” he said, and gave Max a look as he disappeared around the corner to the pantry. He returned with the bottle, which he thrust at Max.
“Ah . . . corkscrew?”
“Right there, Son.”
Max picked up the corkscrew from the counter and set to opening the wine. He glanced at Evelyn. She was smiling at him sympathetically, as if she knew he was uncomfortable. And, boy, was he uncomfortable. He wanted to leave, to let his dad have his date. He needed time to process this shift in their family universe. But what about Jamie? What would Jamie do when he saw this woman in their kitchen? Had Dad thought of that? Had Jamie already seen this woman in the kitchen?
His dad handed him a wineglass, also a new development. Max poured the wine and handed it to Evelyn, then stood back, not unlike a bartender.
“I’ll have one,” his father said.
Max looked at his dad. “You will?”
“Maxey,” his dad said. “Glasses are up there.”
Max obediently poured his dad a glass. As he handed the stemware to him, a door closed from somewhere down the hall. Max steeled himself—Jamie was about to discover Evelyn. He could be very unnerving when he was surprised, and Max worried there’d be some sort of episode. But when Jamie walked into the kitchen, he looked around, his gaze landing on Evelyn, and said, “Dog show,” and ran his hands down the T-shirt he’d bought in Chicago.
“Very nice,” Evelyn said.
Jamie studied her a moment, then turned on his heel and headed back down the hallway.
Max stared after his brother. And then at Evelyn. “Sooo . . . you’ve met Jamie?”
“I have!” she said cheerfully.
Max turned back to his dad in shock, but his dad was busy with the salad.
“So, Max, you’re the brain scientist,” Evelyn said.
Funny, she sa
id it the same way Carly had in the beginning. “Ah . . . yes.”
“I heard we only use ten percent of our brain. Is that true?”
He really didn’t want to talk about brains right now because there were too many questions rumbling around in his. “No,” he said, and tried to smile. “Not true. Where did you and Dad meet?”
“Tinder.”
Max’s mouth dropped.
“We did not meet on Tinder,” his dad said with a laugh. “Evelyn likes to joke around.”
“You like it when I joke around, Toby.”
“I like it when you do a lot of things.” His dad winked.
“Okay,” Max muttered, and looked around for an escape hatch.
“Toby! Your son is standing right there!” Evelyn said with a girlish giggle.
“He’s a grown man,” his dad said jovially. “He knows how these things go. Max, will you set another place? You’re staying for dinner, right?”
“I wasn’t—”
“I insist, Max!” Evelyn said. “Toby, tell him he has to stay. Please, Max. I’ve so wanted to meet you.”
“You have to stay, Max,” his dad said.
His father was smiling, but his eyes were narrowed slightly, just enough that Max got the message. “Sure,” he said tightly. He went to the cabinet to get another place setting. He took it to the table while his dad and Evelyn continued to flirt.
The table was set for four. He would be adding the fifth setting. But . . . there were only four of them here for dinner. “You already set it,” Max pointed out.
“Hmm?” his dad said and had to work to turn his attention from his date. “Oh. Yes. Evelyn has invited her daughter to join us.”
“My daughter,” Evelyn said heavily. “I’ll explain to you, Max, just as I explained to Toby, that my daughter isn’t quite on board with her mother having a boyfriend.”