Whenever we were inside, she’d start destroying things. Her favorite thing to chew was my pajamas, which just pissed me off. It was like she was trying to keep me out of them by destroying them all.
The best times were when she was asleep. Then she was quiet and cute. When she was awake, she was usually barking—she seemed to like the sound of her own voice—or chewing something. I ordered a bunch of puppy toys for her online, desperately hoping that they’d keep her away from my clothes and shoes. If she went for an expensive pair of shoes, Dad would be taking her back.
I collected the delivery from my concierge and went back upstairs. And was greeted by a smelly, steaming pile of poo, right next to the door. Yes, it was actually steaming.
“Moxie!” I said, staring at it. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened, but she’d just been out. I’d hoped she’d be fine for a couple of minutes. What was wrong with her?
Sighing—and holding my breath—I got the poop scoop from the box of her things, put a bag on it, and scooped up the poo. Even holding my breath I could still smell it. What the hell was I feeding her for her poo to smell like that? That wasn’t normal, was it?
After washing my hands, I called my dad. “Yeah, it’s normal,” he said.
“But it’s so gross!”
“Puppies are. How is she?”
“I’ve had to unplug or move or hide every wire. She’s obsessed with chewing them. And she won’t do as she’s told. I can’t even get her to sit, let alone use the proper toilet! Why did you get me a dog?”
“She’s just a typical puppy. When she’s a little older, you’ll understand.”
“Will she still try to get into the bath with me when she’s older?”
“If you don’t train her out of it she will,” he said.
“How do I train her out of it?”
*
A couple of days later, a dog trainer came to visit. He’d been instructed that I knew nothing about dog training but I wanted to know everything, so I was a willing student.
He entered wearing a thick, tartan scarf and a pea coat. He looked like he belonged on an English farm or something. “Hi, I’m Graeme. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Gardener,” he said in an English accent as he held out his hand for me to shake.
I shook it. “Please, call me Tate,” I said, stepping aside to let him in. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Water would be great, thanks,” he said.
“Water it is,” I said.
We went into the kitchen, where I poured us both a glass of water. “Whereabouts in England are you from?” I asked.
“Wiltshire, just round the corner from Stonehenge.”
“Wow. I’ve only ever been to London and Manchester before,” I said.
“Ah, they’re not England. You need to get away from the cities to get a taste of real English life. Wiltshire is typical English countryside. It’s gorgeous.” He took his phone from his pocket and showed me his background. It was a picture of Stonehenge. Red sunlight in the background gave the giant rocks an eerie, ethereal glow.
“That’s so pretty,” I said.
“Yep,” he said.
Moxie waddled into the room then stared up at us. She refused to sit on the tiled floor, but she was more than happy to sit on carpet. I didn’t get it. “Why won’t she sit on the floor?” I asked him.
“She may just not like how it feels on her bum,” he said. “How does it feel when you walk around barefoot on this floor?”
“Cold, I guess. Compared to the carpets, I mean.”
“She probably feels the same. She might change her mind as she gets older and her fur grows or she wants the cold floor to cool off on. It might also be that she doesn’t like how slippery it is. Do you have any mats you could put down?”
“No, but I could get some. Do you think it’ll help?”
“It might just make her feel a bit steadier on the floor while she’s still a baby,” he said.
I took my phone from my pocket and made a note to look into some rugs that would match the kitchen. “Anything else?”
“The most important thing you need to know about dog training is that it’s more about training the owner than the dog. It isn’t like talking to a child. For instance, if we reassure a dog in the same way that we reassure a child, we’re telling them that there’s something to be afraid of.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed. “So what do we do, then?”
“The opposite of what feels natural. We ignore them and act like everything is fine.”
“That sounds difficult.”
“It is at first, but it leads to happier, more confident dogs later. And I’m assuming that’s what you want?”
I looked down at Moxie, who was about to pee on the kitchen floor, right behind Graeme. “No no no!” I said, running for her. But it was too late. There was a puddle. I sighed. “Sorry.”
“It’s perfectly natural for her to still struggle to go to the toilet. Her bladder is tiny. You have to be watching her and taking her out every half an hour or so.”
“Every half an hour?” I repeated. I’d thought Dad was exaggerating when he’d said it. Apparently not. Sigh. Why had he gotten me a dog?
I went into the utility cupboard to get the mop out. I hadn’t even known how to use a mop until I’d gotten Moxie. I used it on an almost daily basis now. Why did I even bother putting it away?
“Just while she’s really little. As she gets older she’ll be able to hold it for longer,” he said.
I flicked the kettle on to boil and put some bleach in the mop bucket. “I have an indoor toilet for her to use, but she doesn’t seem to want to use it.”
“What have you been doing to encourage her to use it?”
“I put some of those puppy pad things on it,” I said, putting on my rubber gloves and wiping up the Moxie pee with some paper towels. Moxie circled me, sniffing her handiwork. Stupid dog.
“And?”
“What else should I be doing?”
“Quite often, dogs will go back to the same places to pee. If you put the puppy pads there, then slowly move them to her indoor toilet, it will encourage her to use that instead of the kitchen floor.”
“Huh,” I said as the kettle finished boiling. I put the hot water into the mop bucket, put Moxie into her crate out of the way—which caused her to start crying—then mopped where Moxie had peed. At least with the boiling water, it wouldn’t take long to dry.
“Shall we go sit down?” I suggested, wanting to get away from the smell of bleach.
“Certainly.” He gestured for me to lead the way.
We went into the living room and sat down.
“What sort of dog do you want Moxie to be?” he asked.
“I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest,” I said. “I guess I want her to be a well-behaved companion dog. Is that possible?”
“Anything is possible so long as you put the work in.”
22
Tate
I want to be on my own
But I don’t want to feel alone
I need people by my side
To make me feel alive.
— “Alive,” Tate Gardener
“Honey? Where are you?” called my mom. Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have given her a key.
“In here,” I replied. She knew where I was. It was where I spent most of my time: bed. Moxie lay at the foot of it, curled into a tiny brown-and-black ball.
Mom was starting to check on me more and more, bringing food in and forcing me to take a shower or a bath. I hadn’t wanted to. Why couldn’t she respect my space? Why didn’t she understand that I didn’t want to eat?
Dad had called me every day too, but he hadn’t come to see me this time as he couldn’t get away from filming. What did that mean? Had Mom hidden from him how bad I was? I’d tried, pretending I was fine about what my birth mother had said. He knew I’d canceled engagements, though. Maybe he was respecting my wishes and letting me have some alone time.
“What can I do to make your pain go away?” said Mom.
“Nothing,” I said, pulling the duvet up higher. “I just want to be on my own.”
“You know that won’t help. Have you been eating?”
I gestured to the empty bag of chips on the bedside table.
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s not food. I could get you a burrito from that place around the corner?”
“No. Please no.”
“You need to eat something.”
“Trinity put some risotto in the freezer.”
“How much of it have you eaten?”
“Um…”
I didn’t even know how much Trinity had put into the freezer. I hadn’t looked.
“Don’t let that horrid woman have power over you.” Holding Moxie in one arm, she reached over and touched my leg. “Please, sweetie, you need to take control of this situation.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, sitting upright.
She reached over and flattened my hair. I hadn’t brushed it in a while. Did I look as bad as I felt? Probably worse.
“By giving her all the headspace you’re giving her now, you’re giving her power. You’re giving her control. Yes, she’s your birth mother, but you don’t owe her a debt because she carried you around inside of her for nine months. That doesn’t entitle her to any space in your mind, especially not after the way she treated you.”
I stared into my lap. Was it really that simple? Was I focusing too much on someone who didn’t deserve my attention? Could I change it so easily?
Why hadn’t she said something like that sooner? Maybe she thought I’d come to that conclusion on my own, or I needed to grieve for the illusion I’d had in my head of my birth parents or something. Maybe she’d only just thought of it. It didn’t matter, really—what mattered was that she was right.
“But how do I get her out of my head?” I asked.
Mom sighed. “Time.”
I leaned over and hugged her. I needed to feel human connection to reassure me that I was still loveable. After everything that had happened and how crotchety I’d been, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Please?” she said. “We’ll always be here for you. But you have to support yourself too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Be kind to yourself. Look after yourself. Spend your time and energy on the things that make you happy, not on the things that drag you down,” she said.
“It isn’t always that simple, though, is it?”
She sighed. “No, it isn’t. But the sooner you figure out what makes you happy, the sooner you can clear space in your life for what you love.” She tucked my hair behind my ear. “So, about that dinner.”
“Can we have tofu stir fry, please?”
“Of course! I’ll go get the ingredients,” she said, a grin creeping across her face.
“And a hair appointment. Like, yesterday.” I ran my hands through my hair. Yeah, it really needed a professional. It was borderline matted. “I’m done hiding.”
*
My hairdresser Dmitri came over after he’d finished at his salon. My hair was in such a state that I didn’t want to be seen out of the house without a disguise just yet. I had a reputation to maintain, and that included looking polished at all times.
“Oh honey,” he said when he saw me. He pulled me into a hug. I’d showered and washed my hair so that I didn’t look like a homeless person, but I still looked pretty terrible. Weeks of crying and neglecting your personal care routine will do that to you. “We’ll get you fixed right up,” he said, putting his hands on my cheeks. “And that woman will rue the day she ever rejected you.”
I frowned. How did he know as well?
“Sorry, your mom told me,” he said. “She came to me for advice when I did her roots the other day.”
“You are a good therapist,” I said.
“I know,” he said with a wink. His eyes gravitated to Moxie, who’d trotted into the hallway. “And who is this adorable ball of fluff? Can I pick her up?”
“She’ll hate you if you don’t,” I said.
He picked her up and hugged her. She wriggled in his arms excitedly, licking his cheeks and yapping. “Well aren’t you the cutest thing? I wonder if we’ve got a bow I could put in your fur…”
“No bows in her fur,” I said.
“She’d look cute with a bow,” said my mom, walking in from the kitchen and putting drinks for each of us on the coffee table.
“No bows,” I repeated.
Dmitri pouted. “On her collar?”
I glanced down at her black sparkly collar. It probably wouldn’t fit her much longer with how fast she was growing, but that didn’t matter. I planned for her to have a collection anyway.
“Acceptable,” I said.
He grinned. “Come on, let’s get set up.” Refusing to let go of Moxie, he made me sit on the sofa while he set up. He took an old towel from his bag and placed it on the floor. Moxie remained quiet and happy in his arms as he put a dining chair on top of it, then some more towels on top of that. His setup complete, he put Moxie in her crate out of the way. She wasn’t happy about being so far away from the action and she let us know it by barking. And barking. And barking some more. He rubbed his ear. “Wow, that little dog has a set of lungs on her.”
“Yeah. It’s great in the middle of the night when you’re trying to sleep.”
“I’ll go take her downstairs. Maybe she needs to go out,” said Mom, grabbing Moxie’s leash, taking her from her crate, and leaving.
“See, this is why I don’t have pets. It’s like with kids: when they’re someone else’s you get the fun parts and can avoid the gross stuff.”
I laughed.
Dmitri grinned, placing his hands on my cheeks. “There’s that gorgeous smile again.”
I lowered my head. For some reason, I felt embarrassed and self-conscious in his presence.
He ran his fingers through my hair. Since I hadn’t done anything with it, it was in its natural state of neither curly, wavy, or straight. Kinky and with a mind of its own was the best way to put it.
“If you want to tell me what happened, you can, but we can totally talk about where you’re going to go tonight after I’ve made your hair super sexy if you want,” he said.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to go out just yet.”
“Nonsense! Lacy is already on their way over.”
“You invited Lacy?” I said. Lacy had started at Dmitri’s salon as a makeup artist a few months ago. They were a miracle worker and ever since I refused to let anyone else do my makeup. If I had a photoshoot, Lacy was coming with me. The only time Lacy hadn’t done my makeup recently had been on the film set I’d prefer to forget. Maybe if Lacy had been there I wouldn’t have lashed out. Hindsight and all that.
“They were worried about you. You used to get your makeup done almost daily!” said Dmitri.
“I didn’t mean to worry them.”
“We’ve all been worried about you, honey,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear and running a comb through it. He tried to be gentle, but it was badly tangled. “I may have to take more off than I usually would.”
“Do what you need to do,” I said. “We haven’t changed color in a while…”
“Funny you should say that,” he said, going into his suitcase of stuff. He laid it on the floor, unzipped it, and took out a color chart. “What’ll it be?” He handed it to me.
I flicked through the colors. Some were subtle, others much more dramatic. I was in the moo
d for something dramatic. “That one.”
“Good choice.”
*
“Your hair is amazing,” said Trinity, admiring my platinum blonde bob as she walked through my door a few hours later. I was in love with it. Dmitri had done an amazing job. Lacy had managed to cover up how terrible I looked too. They were miracle workers to say the least.
“I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” said Trinity, giving me a squeeze. I wasn’t feeling that much better, if I was honest. I was pretending. But I was determined for it to be my best poker face ever. I didn’t want to waste any more thoughts on that vile woman. She hadn’t ruined my life, she’d just created it. I didn’t owe her anything else.
“Where are we going, anyway?” said Trinity.
“We’re meeting up with Liam and Camilla, then moving on to wherever,” I replied. Mostly because I didn’t want to be out alone with Trinity. I was worried she’d say something to trigger my anger or depression and it would result in a public fight. At least with the others there, they could play buffer.
“Liam’s coming?” she said, her voice growing squeaky. One day the two of them would get together. One day.
“Yeah. That’s OK, right?”
“Of course! I like Liam,” she said. “Not like that,” she added a little too quickly. Sure she didn’t.
“Come on,” I said, grabbing my purse from behind the door and locking it behind me.
“What eyeshadow did Lacy use on you? Your eyes look amazing.”
“I don’t know. I’ll text them and ask. I gave them free rein. Even let them and Dmitri pick out my outfit.”
Hollywood Parents Page 14