by Karis Walsh
“What does it mean to have roots in a geographic location, in a culture, an ethnicity, or a specific family? To what extent are we bound by those roots? Are we ever completely free to choose our own destiny, or do we create a future that branches out from—but always connects to—the past? We’re going to approach these questions from a variety of angles—sociological, biological, and anthropological. We’ll also explore how we can communicate our specific stories to others, through words and through images, as we produce a short film that will be shown to family and friends at the end of the term.”
Cara went through the class syllabus with them, breaking down into week-by-week assignments the questions that had haunted her since childhood. How was she defined by her family and the values they embraced? Was she destined to be only a pretty face? Always seen by others as an image to be manipulated and not a real person worthy of love? Even though her television work accomplished meaningful goals, she sometimes felt like a mere conduit for emotions. She found people who did good work and mirrored their accomplishments with her expression and words during filming. She connected the doers with her audience members, but she never took part in the process beyond screen time. She was a channel, not a participant in life. The question of her own worth plagued her, reinforced by the complete lack of any such self-reflection by her parents. She might ponder these ideas, but the bare act of ruminating on them didn’t make her any more substantial than they were.
Once they’d reviewed the syllabus, Cara invited her students to share some of their initial answers to her questions in relation to their unique histories. She half listened and half watched as Pickwick made the rounds of the classroom. He’d paw at each student in turn, dropping into play posture as he attempted to distract them from their studies. Cara considered calling him back to her side and ordering him to stay put, but she didn’t want her class to see how little she was in control of him. If he ignored her completely, she’d lose face as an authority figure. Luckily, he returned to his blanket and started gnawing on the leg of her chair. Unpredictable, untrained, and determined to dismantle everything in his path. Still, he was the first physical manifestation in her own life of the kind of work she extolled on her show. She wasn’t sure she’d survive the process, but he gave her life meaning in his silly puppy way, letting her share in Lenae’s work for a brief time. Her sigh echoed his when he finally stopped his chewing and closed his eyes for a nap.
Chapter Ten
“Let’s go to the bistro, Baxter.” Lenae had been roaming the streets for almost an hour, doing small errands and worrying about the meeting ahead. She had left the training center with plenty of time to spare but was now dragging her feet and running behind schedule. Baxter—always aware of her anxious moments—had led her from store to store, pressing his wet nose against her hand every time they paused. Lenae needed his reassuring presence. When she had first started making plans to open her center, she had been full of confidence and ambition. Set goals and achieve them. Develop a business plan and follow through with no deviation. She’d anticipated possible setbacks and challenges, but she hadn’t expected emotions to be so involved with the work she did. She had merely wanted a quiet life spent working with the dogs she loved and trusted, but her new career had been anything but predictable and steady so far. How could she handle intense and troubled clients when she was fighting her own growing—and frightening—attraction to Cara?
She pushed through the door of Hoffmann’s Bakery and Bistro and felt the raised dial of her watch. Five minutes late. She was never late for appointments. She didn’t need to ask the hostess if Gene and Toby had arrived already because she felt Baxter’s sniff of recognition and the increased energy of his wagging tail.
“Find Toby.” She followed him on a zigzag course, presumably around tables full of other diners, although he made certain she never bumped into another person or tripped over a purse lying on the floor. He stopped, and she reached out for the chair she knew would be within easy reach.
“Hello, Gene.” She sat down and oriented herself with the table setting, moving her plate and glass an inch to the right before she rested one hand on her lap and the other on Baxter’s head. “I’m sorry I’m late. Did you find this place without trouble?”
“I’ve been here before,” Gene said, his voice defensive as usual.
“I know you have. But it’s different now,” Lenae said, her tone soothing as she attempted to reach this man who had so much anger inside. She recognized in his voice the same tone she had used with Cara at her house, when she’d felt the intimacy of walking through Cara’s rooms too keenly. Distant, rejecting closeness. Grasping for control. After her initial consultations, she had been confident in her decision to pair him with the gentle and happy Toby, but she had never worked with a handler who had been sighted since birth and had recently lost his vision, and she had underestimated the helpless rage she sensed in him now. Platitudes wouldn’t work, but they were all she had to offer.
“Of course everything’s different. Don’t you think I know that?”
Baxter whined quietly in response to Gene’s raised voice, but Lenae didn’t hear a sound from Toby. Des had been carefully observing the pair, and he reinforced her belief that while Gene wasn’t doing anything to alienate Toby, he also wasn’t making any effort to bond with his dog. They performed well together, passing every test as they went through the course of training, but there was something missing. Lenae was frustrated by her inability to teach Gene the skills of partnership he needed. She could connect to her dogs, but not as easily with their owners. The ones who came with the excitement and drive necessary to have a successful experience with their dogs were easy enough for her—they did the main work of forming a working unit with their animals. Gene didn’t want to need Toby.
“I understand,” she said. And she did, but not in a way she could express to him. Cara had come into her life for what was supposed to be a brief moment, only to become more involved with the center’s future than Lenae had anticipated. Lenae didn’t want to want Cara in her life, didn’t want to look forward to every puppy class and private consultation they would share together. She had accepted the offer of a little publicity, but events had gotten out of hand. Out of control.
She understood Gene’s reluctance to follow where Toby was leading him, but she kept the connection to herself. After all, she hadn’t lost her vision after a lifetime of seeing. She had been reluctant to appear dependent when she first got Baxter, but she hadn’t been mourning a lost sense at the same time. She had no idea what to say to Gene that wouldn’t sound condescending or as if she was downplaying his loss. I’ve spent a lifetime not being able to see. If I can do it, you can, too. “Give it some time, and I’m sure you and Toby will get to be good friends.”
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t push the issue. The two of them were learning the city of Olympia and functioning well together, and she needed to be satisfied with the small victory. Maybe if she had matched him with one of the other dogs? She hated second-guessing herself already, with the first group of dogs and owners to come out of her training center. If she was making mistakes so soon, did she have any right to continue?
“This bistro has some great sandwiches and soups. There are also several different salads. We can ask the waitress for the specials when she comes to take our order.”
“I’ve been here before,” Gene repeated. “I’ve seen the menu.”
Lenae rubbed her temple, suddenly wishing she’d suggested they meet in a bar instead of the bistro. She planned to eventually build several small cottages on her property so the new owners could live at the center while they learned to work with their dogs, and the money from Howard’s grant would help that happen sooner than she had expected. But not soon enough to give Gene the constant encouragement and feedback he needed. For now, her clients stayed in a nearby hotel, first by themselves and eventually with their dogs. They met at the center for training classes, and out in the town for
more informal, real-life practice.
Lenae ordered the pasta salad, and Gene asked for the same thing. He said he’d seen the menu before, but she wondered if he’d really seen it. How much of his anger was directed at himself, for not appreciating the gift of sight when he’d had it?
“Have you been having any trouble with Toby? Any difficulty getting him to follow your commands?” Might as well stick to the day-to-day realities of having a guide dog since he didn’t seem ready yet to plumb any deeper.
“No. He does everything I ask.” Gene paused. “He’s a good dog.”
Lenae tried to find solace in the softer tone Gene used in his last sentence. She had felt kindness in him from the first interview. She hadn’t misjudged his character in that respect, at least.
“How are you doing with your pacing issues?” Lenae switched to this practical topic after their food was delivered. One that was quantifiable and unemotional. Gene and Toby always seemed to be a half-step off from each other. She had heard the disharmony when they walked on hard surfaces, and Des had confirmed her assessment of the pair.
“Better,” Gene said. “I’ve been paying attention to the sound of his toenails on the pavement, like you said. I can count my steps now and match his stride better.”
Gene sounded more comfortable with the new subject, but even such a mundane training problem nagged at Lenae. She’d never had one of her students need help matching stride with a dog. The transition in gait—once the visually impaired person adjusted to the dog’s speed—seemed as natural as breathing to most people, partly because Lenae was careful to match dogs with owners based on normal stride length, but mostly because the two merged into one unit after the initial adjustment phase. Gene and Toby were performing fine as separate individuals, but not as a team. Even Cara, in her short walk with Toby, had found a rhythm with him.
Cara again, entering her thoughts unbidden. Lenae heard the clink of Gene’s fork hitting his plate several times, punctuated by his frustrated sighs, and she knew he was having trouble with his salad. Rather than give him suggestions she figured would be unwelcome, she kept on the topic of stride length. She described some new exercises for him to try even as she battled with doubt internally. She was a fine one for helping someone else correct his stride when she feared her preoccupation with Cara was throwing her off hers.
They got through lunch and some awkward conversation, and she was glad when her salad was finished and she was free to leave. She arranged for Gene to meet with Des that evening at his hotel—she wanted regular welfare checks on Toby, and she hoped Des would be able to reach Gene through all his anger. She certainly didn’t seem able to do it. She was relieved to be back on the sidewalk, walking away from the bistro. Alone and safe—and in stride—with Baxter.
Chapter Eleven
Cara unleashed Pickwick in the yard behind the training center, and he catapulted himself into the wild group of puppies playing on the grass. The film crew for the network news was setting up hastily so they could get some footage of the melee. Cara would have preferred to attend this first puppy-walker class without the accompanying cameras and harsh lights since she had hundreds of questions for Lenae and wanted a chance to talk to the other walkers without being set apart as a media personality. She wanted to be just another volunteer, but instead of joining the others for cookies and talk about the puppies, she had to put up with combs and makeup brushes. Still, she had promised to do these weekly slots, and the benefits for the center would last far longer than her one-term puppy-walking stint.
Lenae was suffering through makeup and hair for the segment as well, and she appeared even less pleased with the process than Cara. Her light olive skin seemed unnaturally pale, and her posture was less formal than Cara had seen before. Baxter was pressed close against her left leg, as if he was supporting his tired owner. Cara waited until the news crew had left Lenae alone before she walked over.
“Hey. How are you?” Cara rested her hand lightly on Lenae’s shoulder.
“About as exhausted as I must look, judging by your tone,” Lenae said with a tight smile. She allowed Cara’s touch for a few moments before she shifted away. “It’s been a busy week, with introducing the owners to their dogs and doing orientation for this new set of puppy walkers. But it’s part of the job. It’ll only get more hectic as we start training more dogs each year.”
Cara wondered how truthful Lenae’s statements were. She figured the work must be time-consuming, but somehow Lenae seemed the type who would thrive on being busy. Her job as a writer for Three-N must have been a hundred times more demanding than this one. Something in her voice hinted at an emotional weariness, not a physical one. But Cara wouldn’t pry.
“Sorry I seem to bring cameras everywhere I go, but the segment should be easy to film. Just do your normal orientation class, and after it’s finished, I’ll do a quick interview to talk about my week with Pickwick.”
Normal. Lenae had no idea what a normal puppy walker class would be since she had never organized one before. All of her previous work had been one-on-one with individuals, helping them purchase and train a dog or learn to work with one they already had. She was a novice now, matching dogs with owners and guiding the puppies and their handlers through a vital and challenging year. Her confidence was already dented because of Gene and Toby’s problems, so how could she assume she’d be any better at this part of the training?
“So, how was your week? Are you ready to quit yet?” Lenae was half joking, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if Cara had shown up just to drop Pickwick back at the center. She had given Cara a puppy, believing Cara’s priority was the good of the center and not her own advancement, and she hoped this wasn’t yet another example of her inability to truly gauge character.
“No, I’m not ready to quit.” Cara sounded hurt at the accusation, but there was a hint of something else behind it. “Although…”
Lenae had to laugh at the amount of exasperation Cara stuffed into that single word. “He’s a handful, isn’t he?”
“That’s a drastic understatement. I’m buying energy drinks by the case, just so I can keep up with him.”
“Trust me, I know. He was here at the center for two weeks before you got him, and he managed to get in plenty of mischief. He’s an escape artist with extravagant tastes. He’s eaten over five hundred dollars in shoes.”
“He hasn’t run up that high a tab with me yet, but I’m sure he’ll find some way to break into my closet. If I’d listened to Des and been more careful with my good sneakers, I’d still be able to go jogging every day.”
“How do you think Des learned the lesson? Those were his shoes that Pickwick ate.”
Cara joined in her laughter, and Lenae inexplicably found some of her tension ease. She still had doubts, but somehow the liquid sound of Cara’s laugh—joined with her own throatier chuckle—made everything seem better for a brief moment. Commiseration, a relief from loneliness. All illusions, Lenae was sure, but still, she’d accept the temporary lightening of her mood.
Once the cameras were on, however, Cara’s voice and laugh transformed subtly. Certainly no less sweet, but not as carefree. Lenae thought she heard a tightening in Cara’s throat, and her own tensed in response. Cara joked and chatted with the other puppy walkers—two teenagers working on a 4-H project, a middle-aged couple sharing the responsibility, and two graduate-school friends of Des—as they all asked a ton of questions and shared stories about their little hell-raisers, but Cara had definitely changed. The others sounded more nervous and stilted in front of the cameras than they had been before, but their inflections and personalities stayed the same. Not Cara.
A few minutes ago, Lenae had been certain that, no matter how much she had denied it, Cara wanted this opportunity to shine, to move beyond her small-time public TV show and possibly vie for a position as a reporter, then an anchor. But now, hearing Cara shift from one moment to the next, Lenae wasn’t so sure.
It wasn’t that Cara
sounded uncomfortable or unhappy as she finished up her interview. No, she spoke easily and answered questions without hesitating or groping for words. She was bright and cheerful. But while she was praising the couple for their well-behaved puppy and questioning them about their previous puppy-walking experiences, Lenae recognized that Cara somehow…dimmed herself. Closed off something of the exuberant, singing-at-the-top-of-her-lungs Cara, so the focus fell on the people she was interviewing.
Lenae thought back to her own interview for Cara’s show. Except for the brief moment when she and Cara had disagreed about the puppy walkers, Cara had made sure the dogs and Lenae or Des were always center stage. For as much as she was charismatic and chatty with the camera, she made sure the show was about them, not about herself. That wasn’t the behavior of someone trying to climb the media ladder. That wasn’t the behavior of someone just using Lenae or the center. Was it? Wasn’t Cara showing her real self—the person who cared deeply about the causes she promoted?
Lenae wasn’t sure what to believe about Cara anymore. She thought she had pinned down her character from the start. A self-absorbed, ambitious rising star. After spending time with her, she had revised her initial assumptions. She had discovered Cara’s humor in her ability to laugh at herself. She’d seen Cara’s commitment and her obvious love of animals. But even when she had been in Cara’s house, she hadn’t learned about the core of her.
Cara had described the rooms where she prepared for her teaching job and where she researched subjects for her show. But those pursuits were for other people. Cara hadn’t talked about hobbies or mementos as she gave Lenae the tour of her house. And while Cara had had a personal and intense response to the idea of puppy walking during their first interview, Lenae hadn’t seen that fire in her again. Lenae felt an unaccustomed desire to see more emotion from her. To provoke it somehow. Cara was excellent at bringing out the passion and interesting qualities in others, but Lenae wondered what stirred Cara’s own passion.