Chihuahua Karma

by Rice, Debby

  I was considering punishing her slutty behavior with a bite on the ankle when Charmaine reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope.

  “You know, you’re welcome to visit Sugar any time. In fact, we’re having a Christmas Eve party. Here’s an invitation. I really do hope you’ll come.”

  For giving me this chance to see Richard again, I was willing to overlook a thousand things about Charmaine that made me crazy.

  Chapter 17

  “It is not more surprising to be born twice than once; everything in Nature is resurrection.”

  Voltaire

  If eyes are the window to the soul for humans, a dog looks for truth through her nose. A person’s scent is as individual and complex as the whorls and ridges of a fingerprint. So, when the fragrance of red licorice mixed with chalk dust, gym mat, vanilla and something faintly electronic interrupted my dream, I knew that Lucille was in the room. I opened my eyes. Larry had closed the blackout shades, and all I could see was a small shadow creeping across the bedroom.

  “Please don’t bark, Sugar,” she whispered. Lucille was dressed in her black snow parka, fur-topped boots and a red beret with a red wool scarf tied around her neck. A piece of paper cut into the shape of a chunky cross was pinned to the outside of her jacket. She plucked me from my Princess Puppy sleeper at the end of Larry and Charmaine’s double king-sized super pillow-top bed and slipped me into her backpack. She didn’t need to be so quiet. Charmaine was exhausted from the ball, and Larry was knocked out on something a bit more powerful than nerves and excitement.

  I was so immersed in dreaming and thinking about Richard that I didn’t bother to wonder why Lucille was sneaking into Larry and Charmaine’s bedroom or where she might be headed. She had taken four cautious steps and must have been close to the door when I heard a crackle. Blaring music was followed by, “Traffic on the Dan Ryan is …”

  Lucille jumped. Then she froze. She didn’t make a sound.

  “Shit,” I heard Larry mutter.

  “What was that?” came Charmaine’s sleep-slurred reply.

  “Nothing. I forgot to turn the clock radio off.” Then the bedclothes rustled. One of them thumped a pillow. Lucille waited a full five minutes until we heard Larry begin to snore, then she took a few more steps. The bedroom door clicked shut and the door to the front hall closed. Finally we were in the elevator.

  “Sugar, we’re going to meet the friend I told you about,” Lucille said as we rode down.

  I had been anticipating a walk. But this trip sounded like more adventure than I wanted, and anxiety dulled my excitement.

  “Hey, Miss Lucille. Where you off to this chilly mornin’? You got my friend Sugar inside your jacket?” Darien held the door as we exited the building. “I got to say hello to my girl Miss Sugar.”

  “Here she is, Darien. Say ‘hi’ to our favorite doorman, Sugar.” Lucille took me out of her jacket and handed me to Darien. He scratched my head. Then Lucille stuffed me inside her coat so that just my head was sticking out. “We’re just going to Starbucks to pick up some coffee and sweet rolls for Larry and Charmaine. It’s a surprise before they wake up, so don’t tell them you saw me if they call down.”

  “You got it. You be careful walking around the neighborhood by yourself. Those two should keep a better eye on you. And don’t you drink any of that coffee, Miss Lucille. That black poison never made no one an Olympic star.”

  “Don’t worry, Darien. I hate coffee.”

  “Hey, what’s that white thing you got pinned to your jacket?”

  “That’s a talisman of the Thoth.”

  “Say what, girl?”

  “It’s just a kind of Internet club I belong to.”

  “Oh, I thought maybe you forgot to take the dry cleaning ticket off. Okay, you have a good one.”

  It was a frigid day. A tarnished coin of sun hid behind the clouds. The street, quiet because everyone was sleeping in on this Sunday morning, was riddled with patches of ice. Old snow, the color of soot, was piled into crusty pyramids. As if to mock the dismal weather, the brownstones all along the block were decorated for Christmas. Wrought iron gates and fences were wound with evergreen boughs, ribbons and holiday lights.

  When we got to North Avenue, Lucille turned in the direction of Starbucks. A homeless man, holding his tattered jacket together with one hand, violently shook a coffee can at us with the other. Lucille reached into her pocket and gave him a dollar. He smiled and mumbled something that sounded like “Watch that dial,” which was really “Keep that smile.” But Lucille was not smiling. Her red scarf flapped in the wind, and she walked with her head thrust forward, swinging her arms purposefully. I hunkered down inside her jacket because she hadn’t brought a sweater for me.

  Starbucks was empty. Two bored-looking baristas leaned on their elbows, talking about last night’s party and who hooked up with whom. Frosted biscotti, croissants, stale sandwiches and bars dripping with sugary icing waited in their refrigerated case to be electronically rehydrated. There was a CD of Latin music playing in the background, intended to provide the urban bustle that was lacking on this morning. Lucille ordered a grande hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and took a seat in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace. She removed her gloves and hat and unzipped her jacket but did not take it off. I sat in her lap. She tapped her foot and watched the door.

  With each minute that we waited, I grew more curious about who this troubling friend could be.

  One of the chatty baristas approached us. “Sorry, we don’t allow dogs in here,” she said as she leaned down to pet me. “That’s the cutest puppy I’ve ever seen, and so tiny.”

  “Her name is Sugar,” said Lucille. “Listen, I have to meet a friend. Could you just let us stay for a little while?”

  “Well, the manager’s not here, and we aren’t busy. I guess its okay.”

  “Thanks so much. I promise nobody will even notice her,” said Lucille.

  Ten minutes passed, and nothing happened. Just when I was certain that Lucille was going to buy coffee for Larry and Charmaine and we would head home, the door opened. A tall, heavyset person dressed in clothing that could be intended for a covert military operation or a duck hunt lumbered in. He was wearing a camouflage jacket embroidered across the shoulders with a chain of skulls sprouting flowers. Black parachute pants were tucked into Army-surplus combat boots, and a gray wool scarf was wrapped around his head so it was almost impossible to see his face. Pinned to his jacket was a white cross similar to the one Lucille had pinned to hers. The teenage Golem surveyed the room. He saw Lucille, did a double take and walked slowly in our direction.

  “No way. You’re Firefly?” he said. There was a wheezy, phlegmatic quality to his speech that made me think of the Lucky Dream and its laundry dust.

  “Yup, that’s me,” said Lucille, extending her hand. “You must be Magnus. Pleased to meet you.”

  “You didn’t tell me you were a little girl.”

  “You didn’t ask,” said Lucille defensively. “Besides, I’m ten. That’s almost a tween.”

  Like a mummy loosening its bindings, he slowly unwrapped his scarf. I was amazed to see Edmund Lin. I couldn’t imagine how he and Lucille had become friends. His face brought back an uneasy reel of memories. I didn’t want to be anywhere near the Lucky Dream ever again.

  “You’re not exactly what I pictured either,” said Lucille.

  “Look, Firefly, I thought you were going to be someone more my own age. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do today. Nice to meet you.” Edmund began slowly rewrapping the scarf. He seemed to be stalling for time, as if he couldn’t decide whether to go or stay.

  “I thought you were my friend,” said Lucille.

  “Just because our avatars hang out does not mean you and I are friends. That’s why they call it Second Life. Because it’s not real.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “I wanted to meet you,” said Edmund.

  “Why?”

  “Yo
u said you were a Filipina gymnast,” said Edmund sheepishly. “I thought you would be hot.”

  “You said you wanted to help a person in distress.” Lucille’s mouth turned down, her lips quivered and her eyes welled up with tears. She looked at Edmund as though she was losing her last friend in the world.

  “Listen, kid, please don’t cry, okay? They’ll think I did something to you. Let me get some coffee, and we’ll talk for a while.” Mrs. Lin always said Edmund was a soft touch. When customers complained about their clothes shrinking or smelling like dry-cleaning solvent, Edmund would give them their money back if she didn’t intervene.

  Lucille sniffled and dabbed her eyes with a napkin.

  Edmund returned carrying a drink topped with a great plume of whipped cream and drizzled with a sticky yellow sauce that smelled like butterscotch and pineapple with slightly chemical overtones. He was holding a paper plate containing two brownies, a piece of cinnamon pound cake and a supersized chocolate chip cookie.

  The cloying scent of sweets made me sit up and sniff the air.

  “Hey, you’ve got a dog. That looks exactly like my mom’s dog that got lost. Is it a mini Chi?”

  “Yeah, she’s my best friend. Her name is Sugar.”

  “That’s funny. That was the name of my mom’s dog. She was so sad when that thing disappeared. She says my dad sold it, but I don’t think so. I think it got stolen. My sister Suzie thinks it got stolen too. Suzie knows a lot about dogs. She’s involved with them professionally. mini Chis are worth a lot of money. Where did you get this one?”

  Edmund’s question terrified me. I hoped Lucille would tell a convincing lie.

  “I found her in our laundry hamper.”

  Unfortunately, when put on the spot, she was guileless.

  “What? That’s really strange. Then she could be anybody’s dog. Hey, maybe that’s my mom’s dog. She’d be really happy if I found it. She’d probably buy me whatever I wanted.”

  The walls closed in on me. Starbucks grew claustrophobic. I looked around for places where I could hide in case Edmund decided to grab me and take me back to the Lucky Dream.

  Lucille’s face hardened. She picked me up, stuffed me back in her backpack and closed the flap.

  “That is not your mother’s dog,” she said firmly. “I don’t care whose dog she was before. She’s mine now, because I love her more than anyone else, and she stays with me.”

  “Listen, don’t worry. It’s probably not my mom’s dog. Can I hold her? Mom would never let me touch her dog. She kept her all for herself.”

  “Okay, but you have to be very careful,” said Lucille, playing the best card she had. She lifted me out of the backpack and put me down in Edmund’s lap.

  “You are such a cute little guy. I can’t believe how tiny and soft you are,” said Edmund, gently petting my head and munching on his cookie with bovine rumination. I was showered in crumbs each time he took a bite. He broke off a piece of cookie and held it out for me to eat. I opened my mouth and was about to daintily nip it from his fingers when Lucille said, “Stop, don’t give her that. Chocolate is poison for dogs.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t know.” Edmund retracted the morsel and put it in his own mouth.

  “So, tell me about Magnus,” said Lucille, leaning forward on her elbows. Her braids brushed the table. She instinctively understood the importance of displaying an insatiable interest in Edmund’s alter ego.

  “Why? You already know his powers,” said Edmund. His tone was slightly defensive, as if he was used to describing Magnus’ exploits to deaf ears.

  “But I want to hear about them from the master,” said Lucille, demonstrating female sophistication beyond her years.

  Edmund launched into an energetic dissertation, “Well, you know that Magnus is a Third Order Thoft, which means that he is amphibious and can live on land and in water and that he has webbed fingers and toes. For his valor in the wars with the Thurindales, King Arved and Queen Rowhana bequeathed him the Cape of Convincibility and the Mouth of Muscle. When he wears the cape, he can get anyone to do whatever he wants them to do immediately, just by thinking about it. Since he received the Mouth of Muscle, nothing he eats ever turns to fat. Whatever he puts in his mouth becomes muscle. But because he’s amphibious, the muscles never get too bulky. So he looks more like a ninja than a wrestler.”

  “Wow, those are such cool powers,” said Lucille. “Did you think of them yourself or did you read that somewhere? I really like that green cape you designed for Magnus. It’s so perfect with that giant man/lizard insignia—like he has his own logo.”

  “Gee, I never thought of it as a logo before,” said Edmund, and a satisfied smile spread across his face. He licked a gob of whipped cream off the top of his coffee. Cream fell on my head and drizzled down my nose.

  Lucille wiped me off with a napkin.

  “I’m sorry, Sugar,” said Edmund. “I didn’t mean to mess you up. When I get really into Magnus, I forget about stuff. I might get a tattoo of him for my sixteenth birthday. How cool would that be? I was thinking right about here.” Edmund rolled up his sleeve to display the exact area of pudgy, white flesh that he had staked out.

  “That would look really awesome. Do you think you could invent some powers for Firefly? I’m not very good at finding cool things for her to do.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I have time for that. I’m pretty busy with Magnus. I work on him every day after school and most weekends, but maybe I could fit something in.”

  “Listen,” Lucille said, unable to contain her anxiety any longer. Her voice dropped to a whisper. She grasped Edmund’s wrist and held it so fast that her knuckles turned white. Edmund looked troubled by her intensity. “Something terrible is going to happen to me. You don’t have to be my friend, but you need to help me.”

  Edmund shifted around in his chair. “Maybe you should tell your parents about it,” he said.

  Lucille folded her hands in her lap, straightened her back and brushed the crumbs off the table. “I don’t have any parents. I’m an orphan,” she said.

  “I don’t know anyone who is an orphan. You’re like Harry Potter. What happened to them?”

  “They died in a plane crash. They were both movie stars, and they were doing a stunt. But they were already separated, and my mom’s boyfriend was Larry Finkelstein. We were staying in his condo. Have you heard of him?”

  “Yeah, I think I have. Isn’t he really rich? I think he might be one of my mother’s special clients. She calls anyone who is rich her Number One Customer.”

  “Well, he’s a very important person. He exterminates bugs in all the most expensive restaurants,” said Lucille. “Anyway, after my mom died, Larry got married to Cherry, and then she died, and now he has another girlfriend named Charmaine.”

  “That’s really strange. Where do you live?” Edmund rubbed his forehead, trying to process Lucille’s complicated saga.

  “Well, that’s the problem. I’ve been staying in Larry’s condo. They didn’t used to notice me much. But now they want to get rid of me, and they’re trying to get me adopted.”

  “Is that bad? Don’t you want to have a family?”

  “Not really. I like where I am. But I guess it might be okay if the Pattersons were normal. But you should see them. They’re really strange. He’s tall and skinny like a disgusting insect—maybe a grasshopper or a praying mantis—and she’s the fattest person I’ve ever seen. She has little feet that are like hooves and eyes like an angry pig. I think they could be aliens. They act really sneaky and mean, like they’re from another planet.”

  “Are you sure you’re not making this up? It sounds like a movie.”

  “No, I swear on the Oath of Thoth that it’s totally true.”

  “Even if I believe you, what do you want me to do?”

  “You’re Magnus, I was sure you would think of something.”

  Hearing this, Edmund sat up taller. He sucked in his belly and jutted out his chin. The scales had tipped.r />
  “Okay, Firefly. I guess I could investigate. Do you have any information on them—pictures, history, anything? What did you find on the Internet?”

  “There is nothing about them online, and there isn’t time to investigate. They’re coming to get me the day after Christmas.”

  “So what were you thinking?” said Edmund.

  “Sugar and I are going to run away. I’ve been emailing a gymnastics coach in Bulgaria. I sent him my tape, and he’s going to arrange for me to go there. I just need you to help me hide for a couple of weeks until they stop looking for me. They’ll give up pretty quickly, because nobody really cares. Actually, if I take Sugar, I know Charmaine will make them look longer. But I can’t leave her behind. She has to come.”

  “You can’t run away. You’re only ten years old. Even I couldn’t run away. You don’t know this person in Bulgaria. He might sell you into white slavery.”

  Run away? Bulgarian gymnastics coach? No, no, no! The urge to speak was overwhelming but impossible. So I put my front paws on Edmund’s chest and barked as loudly as I could right in his face.

  “Sugar, what’s wrong?” said Lucille. “Calm down. Did you do something to her?”

  “No. I was just petting her. They’re going to make us leave if she doesn’t shut up,” said Edmund.

  “I know. She never does this. Sugar, please. You need to stop.” Lucille lifted me out of Edmund’s lap. She held me next to her chest, and finally I was able to control myself.

  I hoped that Edmund, cast in the role of superhero, might be launched to an unexpected level of maturity and that he would be able to persuade Lucille to abandon this crazy plan.

  “Magnus, you don’t know me. I don’t say I can do something without being sure that I can. Besides, my mother is helping me.”

  “Isn’t your mother was dead?”