by Leslie Pike
“Okay, help me. I don’t want to sound anxious or blasé. What should I say?”
“Say yes.”
* * *
One text, four excited calls from the car, and for Deborah and me a rehashing of our shared history with Arthur. It fills the half hour it takes to get back home. Everyone is already there waiting as we pull in the driveway. I’m out of the car, running toward the men and screaming my happiness. Four faces tell the same story. ZZ’s half-smile lifting the corners of his mouth equals the same sense of excitement. That is his unbridled joy. Jimmy wears the biggest smile. I jump in Tony’s outstretched arms and he twirls me around.
“Is this really happening?” he says. “You better not be bullshitting.”
“Do you think I’d be that cruel? Come on.”
“Do you think he’s gonna offer us a contract?” Oscar asks, following me to the door.
“I don’t know. Maybe. We got close before.”
We enter the house and Deborah goes for the refrigerator. “I’m going to get us some beer.”
The purse gets thrown to the floor under the window and I join Tony and Jimmy on the couch. I look Jimmy in the eyes and ask the question I know he’ll have a thoughtful opinion about.
“I mean we don’t want to get ahead of ourselves, but this looks pretty good, right? Please say yes.”
A big sigh precedes the answer. “Yes. And the best part is the fact he’s interested in an original song.”
I start to react before I weigh my actions, but at the last moment resist kissing him on the cheek. It’s just that I feel such love for all the guys. It would be so natural under normal circumstances. But our relationship hasn’t found its new normal yet. Even after all this time. So instead of a kiss he gets my most enthusiastic high five.
“Let’s talk about our options should we get an offer,” Deborah says, passing a beer to Tony.
She tosses one to ZZ. We all have our preferences and for Jimmy and me beer doesn’t do it.
“Want a Coke?” Deborah says.
“I’m good.”
She grabs a seat in the club chair. “I don’t think we can continue to use Brian as our attorney. He just doesn’t have the experience we are going to need. I’ll start looking. We’re not going to have anything by tomorrow. And Arthur knows it. He knows it all remember. We’re not going to outfox the fox.”
“You’re right. Better we approach this authentically,” I add. “No bullshit. Let’s expect to be respected as artists and he’ll know we will hire representation if we have an offer.”
“That’s all good. But this isn’t puppies and rainbows. This is the business of music. Better that we present ourselves in a professional manner. That’s what will be respected,” she says.
“We shouldn’t make anyone think we undervalue our worth,” ZZ adds in a calm tone.
That begins a long meaningful conversation about goals and plans. Dreams. We are clearly out of our depth. But we are dreamers, all. How ours may be about to come true is mind-blowing. Are we getting a second chance? Is everyone prepared to grasp the golden ring? We each are prepared to commit. In the biography of our lives this will go down as one of the best days. It’s all hope. I’ve always embraced uncertainty and trusted the wait.
* * *
“That’s great, Dove.”
Nobel says it with a smile. I can tell he wants to be supportive, but what’s with the lack of enthusiasm? Am I misreading his face in the ambient light of the restaurant? Maybe I haven’t explained the weight of what happened today. I try again.
“No, it’s really a big deal. Let me give you some background. A few years back this producer that called today, Arthur, saw one of our shows in Nashville. We had gone there for a week’s run at this tiny but kind of famous music venue. Anyway, apparently he liked what he saw and contacted us.”
All this time Nobel remains silent, just taking in the words. But behind his eyes I see a seed of unhappiness. What? No. I have to be wrong about that.
“So long story short, we were offered an opening act contract for a popular mid-level band that was going on a tour of the south in the summer. We were about to move to Nashville as a home base. It was a break we’d only dreamed of.”
“What happened? I don’t remember you saying you ever were on tour.”
I dab the napkin to my lips and set it on the table. “We never were. Before the contracts were negotiated and signed, my grandfather got sick. There was no one else to care for him. It came down to me and nothing was going to stop me from being his champion. I had to turn the offer down.”
His eyes soften now and the real Nobel returns. “What did your band members say?”
“It was a big blow, but what could they say? These are my actual friends. In the end they were required to understand because the offer wasn’t for four of us. It was all or none. They could not do it without me. But believe me we understand we’re greater than the sum of our parts and only work together anyway.”
“Couldn’t you hire someone to care for your grandfather?”
I lock eyes with him across the table. “Would you leave your dog to a stranger as she was dying?”
A shake of his head answers my pointed question.
“I commend you. I’m sure your grandfather was grateful.”
“He never knew.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t about to tell him how inconvenient his dying was for me. This is a man who sacrificed so I would have a family and know love. He and my grandmother fed my dream and acted like I was the most talented singer that ever lived. They wanted my success. If he knew, it would have been devastating. I think he deserved to be protected from the truth.”
“Wow.”
“I told him the offer fell through.”
“I understand. Why didn’t you get ahold of Arthur after your grandfather passed away?”
“Oh, we tried. There wasn’t the same interest. We had missed our spot. Passing up an offer to tour was a sign to them we were not all in, not dedicated to our craft. He said as much the one time he did respond to our attempts to talk.”
He signals the server for our check, then turns back to me. I still see he is disturbed.
“What’s this?” I say, pointing a finger to his expression.
It’s surprising he doesn’t pretend ignorance. Instead, he doubles down.
“What does this mean for us? Are you going to go on tour for a year? Will we be apart?”
“I understand your concern Nobel, but the answer is maybe, if we are extremely lucky. Yes, it could happen. Or maybe it’s all about releasing our latest song and recording more. That would require time spent in Nashville. But we can figure out a way through this that satisfies us both. There’s planes and trains and automobiles. There are phones. You have a job that is flexible. That alone works to our advantage.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you can come along. Be with me. If Nashville is the place I need to be, then we will learn to love it. What would be stopping you?” I say it with the enthusiasm felt. It seems so obvious to me. Why not to him?
“Uh, my life, my job, the home, Maudie, the family. Shall I go on? I mean it’s not that simple, Dove.”
“As far as I can see, it’s only Maudie that needs to come first. You said not two weeks ago you could work from anywhere in the United States. Your family? They would be happy for your adventure. Your house? It doesn’t need you. You have a security system, and you can come back and check in whenever you’d feel the urge. And your life? Whether we are together for one year or a hundred, it should be thought of as our life.”
“Well, yes. That’s true.”
“Then you should know that sometimes in our life, my goals and dreams will take first place. Being together will require us both to make sacrifices at different times. I’ve already proved how devoted I can be to those I love. I have put myself second. I think we need to demonstrate we support the aim of the other. Are you willing to do that, es
pecially when it’s so simple for you to do?”
“Of course, I support you.”
He knows I’m right, but it’s just too far out of his comfort zone to say more. Did he think I was going to lose the lifelong dream? No, my love. I can love you and catch a star. Come along with me. I want it more than you could possibly know. And by that I mean the dream and you.
That dark expression makes me think the electric chair is waiting for his occupancy just outside the restaurant. Dead man walking. He notices my eyes taking it all in, and switches channels.
“Let’s go home and salvage the day,” he says smiling.
I reach for his hand. “Good thinking, baby.”
* * *
All the way back we’re playing grab ass with each other. It seemed like it took an hour to get from the restaurant to his driveway. I’d say both of us have come to the conclusion distraction is the best way forward. At least for a night. I rub the back of his neck, he runs a hand over my leg. There’s little conversation but it’s not uncomfortable. The previous discussion has to settle first. For us both. He is adjusting to the idea of a different kind of life and I’m juggling with knowing how difficult it will be for him. Sex and affection are great tools to remind us of our bond.
It isn’t easy for either to realize we may be faced with a life changing decision so soon in our relationship. But I can’t ignore what I know. Nobel and I are meant. To be together, to love, and to find a way through whatever obstacles present themselves. This is life. If we want to be together, it’s within our power to make it happen.
“I can’t wait to get in bed and just let the day go,” he says, shutting off the motor.
“Me too. I don’t want to think of anything other than the healing touch of your hands on my body. Let’s go.”
He’s looking at the side window of the front door and his brows come together.
“What?”
“Maudie isn’t greeting us. It’s kind of strange.”
The pit of my stomach tightens.
“She’s probably sleeping. Her hearing is getting worse.”
“True. That’s it. Okay, let’s go in.”
Exiting the car, we climb the steps and I sense a fear in him. And me if I’m being honest. Oh please Maudie. Be there. Be there. Nobel wastes no time getting the key in, and just as he does, I see Maudie through the window. Her eyes are open as she lays on the floor by the window.
“There she is!” I say with the relief that floods my body.
His attention is pulled to the window.
“Hi my girl! Fuck you scared the shit out of me,” he says as the door swings open.
But as we enter and he gets on his knees to embrace the dog, I see the change in her. Something is different. Off. As Nobel’s hands pet her coat and he offers loving words, she tries getting up. A sharp whine sounds and then leaves as quickly as it came.
“Her arthritis must be especially bad. Poor baby. I’m going to warm your pad. Let me get that going. Dove, will you get a biscuit for her?”
He wants to believe the pain comes from the arthritis and ignore the fact she is also suffering from the pain of the cancer. I think in his mind it sounds like a solvable problem. Something to wrap his head around when the truth can’t be faced. He’s pretending because it is so painful to know there isn’t a thing he can do to fix the problem. He cannot save the dog he loves with all his heart.
“Yeah. Is it time for the pain med yet? Want me to bring it?”
I throw my bag to a chair and head for the kitchen island.
“She still has an hour to go but fuck it. Yeah, bring it please. And a piece of cheese so I can get it down her throat.”
I return with the three items. The pill gets hidden in the cheese, but when he tries to get Maudie to swallow, it’s a no go. She will not take it. Nobel tries repeatedly and with each attempt he is getting more disturbed.
“Come on, baby. This will make you feel better. Please. Take it. Umm, cheese.”
I see a tear course down his cheek, which he quickly wipes away. Maudie rests her head on the cool floor and closes her eyes. I’m not sure she has the strength to walk to her bed. I try to come up with some positive spin on the disturbing scene.
“The pain seems to have stopped. Maybe she just wants to sleep right there.”
He grabs ahold of my delusion and joins me.
“You’re right. Let me get the bed and bring it to her here in case she wants to use it.”
Rising, he grabs the warm, cushy oval and lays it right against her, so she feels it. The dog stays where she is. So, he gently lifts her and transfers her thin body to the warmth of the bed.
When I look in his eyes, they are full of tears. Oh damn! Now mine. I let mine go, in hopes he will use them as permission to cry. It takes a moment, but he does. We hold each other closely and I can feel the sadness envelop his body as he cries. But I don’t look at Nobel’s face. I don’t want to do anything that will make him hold back the emotions that are begging to be let out. I say nothing until he does.
“God, what a baby I am.”
I take his face in my hands. He looks at me and I see despair. I feel the helplessness.
“No, you’re not a baby. You are a man who knows how to love another being. Dog or person. This is the appropriate response, Nobel. You’re losing someone you adore.”
Another fat tear streams down his face and he hangs his head.
“I think she’s okay right now. She isn’t showing any more pain and she’s resting. What say we spend the night down here with her?”
Now he locks watery eyes with me.
“Yes. I want to be close.”
“Me too. We can light a fire and put on some classical music like you said she likes. Does that sound right?”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
“Okay I’m going to get our pillows and change into my sweats. I’ll bring yours down.”
He kisses the top of my head and it’s so meaningful in its tenderness.
“Thank you.”
I untangle my arms from his, grab my purse and head for the stairs. On the way up I dig for the cell and check the messages. Deborah, Jimmy. I stop there. Jimmy never calls unless it is important, necessary or someone died. Not since our messy chapter. I listen to his voicemail.
“Hey. Arthur sent a group text. Did you get it? Where are you? Call me.”
There’s a bit of impatience in his tone. That’s weird. But as I reach the top of the stairs, I see why. I missed the bell, alerting me to all these texts. Oh, it was at seven. We were in the restaurant. I had turned the phone off to give my full attention to Nobel. It was the right move on one level, but I can’t do that after tonight. This is too important.
* * *
Arthur: Need to add another Zoom call. We will talk tomorrow as planned, but there’s another interested party. Archangel is going to be in the studio when you’re here. They want to sit in on the session. I said yes. He will be calling you at 1:30. It’s hard to pin this guy down, so make sure you’ve locked in the time. Confirm please. Arthur.
* * *
Archangel? The country band that is making waves with their first album likes our music? A flush of energy courses through my body. But it’s followed by the realization Saturday is
Scarlett and Parish’s wedding day. Ohhh shit. Shit. Fucking shit!! There’s no choice. If I take the call at that time, we should be finished by three at the latest. The ceremony is at three so I could probably make it to the reception before the first dance. Nobel will just have to understand. Oh yeah, that’s going to happen.
I catch myself. Wait. This is how it is going to be from now on. Grabbing the brass ring requires you to be on the carousel. I have an invitation that won’t be extended indefinitely. It’s now. We will have to roll with whatever comes our way, knowing that if we are solid things will work. Stop!
Tonight is not the time for relaying my news or debating the details of our relationship. No way. This is Maudie’s time. A
nd Nobel’s.
“Dove! Bring my grey blanket that’s on the chair!”
The voice snaps me out of my own story. The million pieces that are floating in my head dissolve. Back to earth.
15
Nobel and Maudie
I take the blanket from Dove and tuck it around Maudie. There is an elevated state that reveals itself in a dog’s face. A kind of holiness. It redefines usual descriptions of what constitutes beauty. It is more than that. We are lifted higher with their loving gaze.
She’s so still. Except for the breathing. It has become more labored. Puffs of air come out of her snout and there is a shallowness to them. When asked, the vet told me what to look for if death was close. I thought I was asking prematurely, but I was not. Things have progressed. It has come too quickly. Thought we might have another six months at least. Fuck. No matter how I spin what is happening, I return to the same conclusion and undeniable truth. She’s dying. My sweet girl is dying.
It’s strange what you wish for when time runs short. It’s not anything grand. It’s not a run in the field or a splash in the river. It isn’t a thrown ball I want to see her retrieve. It’s only a little time, the vanishing commodity. I want another day, even just half of one. I’d sit with her and let her have my sweater as a blanket to rest a head on. She likes the smell of her human.
I would look in her eyes and try to describe the color and shape. Then I’d write it down so not to forget important details. Scratching those big ears, I’d go one minute longer than I ever had before. Maudie never tired of that. It would be me who would quit every time. I would say I love you in dog speak and listen to every conversation she offers with her tail and body language.
It has become clear something beautiful in my life is about to become a memory. It doesn’t matter that it is in the form of canine as opposed to human. Real love cannot distinguish the difference. I will go to my own grave believing it is true.