Dingo's Recovery

by Genevieve Fortin

  A young man approached her in the waiting room. “The doctor will see you now, Ms. Allen.”

  “Oh, okay.” Surprised not to see Isabelle, Joyce grabbed the painting in one hand and with her other hand used the lead to guide Dingo. He was doing well enough to handle a short walk. They followed the young man to a different exam room, which surprised Joyce again. Something was definitely off. She let go of the painting only long enough to place Dingo on the exam table and then held the framed art nervously against her chest.

  When she saw Doug Perry enter the exam room, she gasped. Amanda was obviously avoiding her at all costs, but she couldn’t give up. She simply couldn’t. “Where is Doctor Carter?”

  “She’s not available. I’ll take care of Dingo today. Let’s see that leg,” Doctor Perry explained coldly without even looking at her.

  Dingo growled when the veterinarian put his hands on him. No, this would not work. For Dingo or for her.

  “If Doctor Carter can’t see us now we’ll wait. She’s been Dingo’s vet through his entire recovery and she promised she’d take care of him until he’s fully recovered.”

  “Ms. Allen, Doctor Carter is not available and I can take care of Dingo as well as she can. Matt, will you help me?” His tone was barely polite.

  “No!” she said louder. “I’m sorry, Doctor Perry, but that won’t do. I demand to see Doctor Carter.” She hadn’t heard that tone in her voice in so long that she was shocked to find it was still in her. It was a tone she’d always hated, one she’d used in her former life, when she and Evelyn got poor service in stores or restaurant. Demanding to see the manager had almost been a hobby back then. She didn’t miss that now, but she didn’t want to go through this visit with Doctor Perry. She wasn’t acting like a spoiled rich girl who wasn’t getting what she wanted; she was acting out of sheer despair.

  “You’re in no position to demand anything here, Ms. Allen.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  She held his gaze, but she didn’t know how long she could keep her defiant attitude when all she wanted to do was to fall to her knees and cry. She heard the door open but didn’t look away from him before she heard Amanda’s voice. “I’ll see Dingo, Doug. It’s okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I could hear you and Ms. Allen all the way to my office and we certainly don’t want to disturb our clients and patients, do we? So I’ll take care of Dingo.”

  “Okay, but I won’t be far if you need me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Doug Perry and the young male vet tech left the exam room, but Joyce couldn’t claim she’d won the battle. She’d managed to get Amanda to examine Dingo but her attitude was glacial and she was avoiding any eye contact. She focused all of her attention to Dingo’s leg, conducting her exam without saying a word. Joyce wanted to cry even more now that she was faced with Amanda’s hostility, now that she could almost touch it.

  “I brought the painting I gave you. You forgot it the other night.” She risked placing the portrait of Dingo next to its subject on the exam table, where Amanda would be forced to see it.

  “You can take it back with you. I don’t want it anymore. I’ll take Dingo to the back with me and we’ll change his bandage. You know where the waiting room is.”

  “But I wanted to watch, like the other times.”

  “That won’t be possible. Not today, Ms. Allen.”

  Joyce watched as Amanda took Dingo into her arms and left the room. How could she convince Amanda to talk to her when she couldn’t even get the woman to look at her? If only Amanda had seen her face. She would have been forced then to recognize her distress. She grabbed the painting and took it back to the waiting room, the harsh reality of the situation beginning to register. She’d lost Amanda.

  “That’s a good boy,” Amanda said as soothingly as she could while she removed Dingo’s bandage. Isabelle was holding him on his side on the table. He was more nervous than he’d been every time they’d replaced his bandage before. She wasn’t surprised. He was simply reacting to her own anxiety.

  Being in the same room with Joyce had brought her pain back to the unbearable level it had been when she’d run down Garland Street. Doug was right. She was too fragile to be in Joyce’s presence. She couldn’t even look at her for fear of completely losing it.

  She hadn’t been able to resist taking a peek at the painting she’d given her that night, however, and it had awakened something different in her. The past two weeks had been all about the torment and suffering caused by Joyce’s mind games and betrayal. In clashing contrast, the painting had brought her back to Joyce’s art studio, to a moment of intimacy she’d cherished. The portrait gnawed at her, trying to convince her that the closeness they’d shared before that damned dinner couldn’t possibly have been nothing more than a game. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily. As much as she wanted to hold on to that hope, she couldn’t risk it.

  “Ms. Allen, Dingo’s ready now, if you want to follow me,” Isabelle said in the same friendly tone she always used. Joyce looked at her and wondered if she was oblivious to what was happening. Surely, she had to know she was in the presence of a woman who’d suffered a great loss. A woman who felt utterly and hopelessly empty. “Ms. Allen?”

  “Yes, I’ll follow you.” No. She didn’t know anything. How could she? No one could know how the brief friendship she’d shared with Amanda had changed her. She didn’t really know it herself before she’d lost her.

  Joyce entered the exam room and, holding the painting against her chest, kept staring at the door where Amanda would appear with Dingo. She looked at Joyce when she entered this time. She even smiled after she put Dingo down on the exam table, but there was no depth behind that smile. It was a polite smile that announced the professional behavior Joyce had demanded. You can’t demand friendship, caring, or forgiveness, Joyce reminded herself. She didn’t smile back. Instead, she felt tears run down her cheeks.

  “So, no more splint for Dingo, as we’d planned. We made this soft bandage out of cotton wadding and elastic tape. He needs to keep it on for two weeks. You can let him walk longer now, even run a little, but no jumping yet. Do you have any questions?”

  Joyce shook her head and placed the painting on the exam table so she could move Dingo to the floor and clip his leash to his collar. “Antibiotics?” she managed to say as she fought to keep her quiet tears from turning to sobs.

  “Yes, Isabelle is getting them ready and is probably waiting for you at the reception desk.”

  Joyce nodded and reached for the painting. “I’ll keep it, if you still want me to have it,” Amanda said.

  Joyce smiled weakly. “I do.”

  “Okay, good. Thank you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Amanda. I never meant to hurt you.” Joyce wanted to reach out and pull Amanda into her arms, but she rushed to open the door for her and wouldn’t meet her gaze again. Joyce left without another word. There was no fight left in her.

  Chapter Twenty

  “I’m not in the mood to go out and meet Heather’s new girlfriend, Barb. I’m not going to act happy just because you want me to. I miss her. She was the best thing that happened to me in years and I fucking miss her. I can’t help it. I should never have gone ahead with your plan.”

  Joyce placed a glass of white wine on the breakfast bar in front of Barbara and waited for her reaction. Barbara had stopped by on her way to the restaurant where she was to meet Heather and her new conquest. She’d asked Joyce to join them, but it was out of the question. She was already in her pajamas and ready to wallow in misery.

  A week had passed since she’d seen Amanda at the clinic and Joyce still couldn’t get the visit out of her mind. She couldn’t help but wonder if she should have tried harder. Amanda’s cold detachment had paralyzed her and she’d been unable to beg for forgiveness the way she’d prepared to do. Part of her was resigned to the fact that she’d lost Amanda, but another part, the part that m
issed her so much it ached, wasn’t convinced.

  “Ridiculous,” Barbara responded before she took a large gulp of her wine.

  “What?”

  “This whole thing is completely ridiculous. I mean listen to yourself. So you had a crush on a girl young enough to be your daughter. And she probably had a thing for you too. But so what? It’s not like it could’ve worked out anyway, is it? I mean, can you imagine?”

  “Fuck you, Barb.”

  “Oh, that’s mature. Well done, Joy.”

  “Fuck you. I mean it. I can’t deal with you right now. Go meet your daughter now so I can cuddle with my dog, will you?”

  “Are you kicking me out?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Barbara held her gaze for a few seconds before she started laughing. “How much wine have you had already?”

  “Too much.” Joyce had opened the bottle and started to drink before Barbara’s arrival, hoping to relax. She’d emptied the bottle in Barbara’s clean glass.

  “All right, you’re off the hook because I understand wine can make us say things we don’t mean, but I’ll get out of here before you get any nastier.”

  “At last,” Joyce said bluntly, slightly frustrated when Barbara laughed harder.

  She followed her sister to the door and they shared air kisses. “Now go on and cuddle with your sack of germs. No more wine for you, okay?”

  “Whatever.”

  Barbara smiled at her and sounded almost motherly when she added, “You will get over it, I promise. And you’ll see it was better this way.”

  Barbara left and closed the door behind her. “Fuck you,” Joyce said again. She picked up Dingo and brought him upstairs with her. “You’re sleeping with me tonight. I love your germs.”

  She climbed upstairs and got into bed with Dingo, who didn’t argue with her, quickly settling between her arm and the side of her body as she plunged her fingers into his red fur.

  Joyce went over Barbara’s words and soon her mind was filled with the same series of questions she’d asked herself a thousand times since she’d found out Amanda might be interested in her. Was the way things ended truly preferable to attempting a relationship with the younger woman? Why was their age difference so important to her?

  On one hand, did she think a relationship with Amanda would be inappropriate because of her own convictions or because she knew Evelyn and Barbara wouldn’t approve? On the other hand, if she did develop a relationship with Amanda, would it be simply to go against Evelyn’s and Barbara’s rules of conduct?

  Of course, there was no way to find out unless she tried, and she’d missed that opportunity, hadn’t she? “Damn it, little brat, I screwed everything up, didn’t I?”

  Joyce stared into Dingo’s eyes until he succumbed to sleep. She kept petting him, the movement of her hand and the softness of his fur soothing her. She was about to doze off when a thought flashed through her wine-clouded mind. Amanda had kept Dingo’s portrait in the end, hadn’t she? If she truly had wanted nothing to do with Joyce, she wouldn’t have accepted the gift. After all, it wasn’t only an image of Dingo. It was a picture Joyce had painted. There was hope, she thought as her eyelids got heavier. There was an opening, and she’d be a fool not to try to stick her foot in it before it closed again.

  She reached out to the bedside table with her free hand and grabbed her cell phone. She typed up her message to Amanda before she could change her mind again. Or before she sobered up.

  “Need to explain. Please. Tomorrow?”

  She stared at the phone until its display screen got dark, then she dropped it to her stomach. She was still waiting for a reply when sleep claimed her.

  Amanda was resting in bed when she heard the notification of an incoming text message. She’d been staring at the painting on her dark wood, six-drawer dresser. She hadn’t decided where or if she’d hang the portrait of Dingo yet, but she spent time admiring it every night. It wasn’t as painful as she’d expected at first.

  While the thoughts of Joyce that flashed through her mind during the day were still gloomy and painful, the painting brought up different, more comforting ones. When she looked at it she allowed herself to remember the Joyce she’d seen as a birthday present from the universe. She focused on Joyce’s joie de vivre, her determination, her laughter. She drew a mental picture of her thick silver hair, her dark gray, laughing eyes, and her inviting, often playful smile.

  She reached out to grab her phone from the bedside table and was surprised when she saw Joyce’s name on the display screen. Joyce hadn’t sent her another text message since she’d left the clinic after her last visit. Amanda thought she’d given up, which strangely both relieved her and saddened her. She read Joyce’s message a few times and sighed with frustration.

  Doug’s voice got louder and louder in her mind, telling her she’d be an idiot to respond. That she needed to stay away from Joyce and her mind games. She should delete the message right away and block Joyce’s number once and for all.

  Her own voice, however, as small and hesitant as it was, couldn’t be ignored. She wanted to hear Joyce’s explanation. She wanted to find out if there was any way to reconcile the woman she remembered every time she looked at the portrait of Dingo with the woman who’d lured her to her house for her niece. There had to be a middle ground between the perfection she’d seen in Joyce and the pure evil Doug saw in her.

  Amanda sat on her bed and typed her answer with trembling thumbs. “Meet me in front of my building, nine a.m. We’ll take a walk.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Joyce was standing by the door of Amanda’s building at eight fifty-five. She’d been so happy to see Amanda’s reply to her text message when she’d opened her eyes that morning sans headache, amazingly enough. Her relief and enthusiasm had followed her through her morning routine: going outside with Dingo, feeding him and herself, taking a shower, doing her hair and makeup, and getting dressed. She’d even caught herself whistling a few times. As soon as she got in her car and started driving toward Franklin Street, however, a deep fear took root inside her. There was a great possibility, after all, that her explanation wouldn’t suffice. Amanda had generously granted her this meeting, but that didn’t in any way guarantee she would earn her forgiveness.

  Joyce paced on the sidewalk, waiting for Amanda. She pulled on the slightly heavier and larger scarf she’d chosen to wear. She’d dressed for the chilly early September morning with jeans and a light knit sweater, but she hoped the day wouldn’t warm up too quickly. Loosening her scarf, revealing the unmistakable signs of aging it concealed—that would surely scare Amanda away for good.

  Amanda showed up in her usual layered look and ponytail. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose in a familiar movement Joyce found endearing. Her smile was hesitant. Joyce answered it without restraint. Amanda had every right to be cautious. “Thank you so much for meeting me.”

  Amanda jerked her chin toward the walking trail. “Let’s walk.”

  They walked side by side in silence for a few minutes. Joyce had hoped Amanda would open the conversation, ask her questions, but it soon became evident she was there to listen to Joyce’s plea and nothing else. Joyce had gone over and over what she might say if she had the chance to, but she’d never worked on an opening statement. Where to begin? She pulled on her scarf, cleared her throat, and the first words that came out surprised her. “I miss you.” The tears that followed shocked her even more.

  Amanda glanced at Joyce and stopped walking. She sighed with frustration and looked up to the sky. Joyce couldn’t decide if she was annoyed with her for crying or with the tears rapidly filling her own eyes. She took tissues out of her messenger bag and handed a few to Joyce.

  “Thank you.”

  “I thought you wanted to talk to me. So talk, please. I’ve done enough crying already. Tell me why you invited me to your house without telling me your sister and niece would be there. Without telling me the objective of the evening was
for me and Heather to hit it off. Why you tricked me that way after I told you how much I hated social and mind games and wouldn’t tolerate them. Just tell me, please.”

  So there it was. The opening Joyce had been waiting for. Amanda started crying harder after delivering it, but when Joyce made a move toward her to comfort her, she took a step back and raised her hand in front of her. “Just talk,” she repeated as she started walking again.

  “I didn’t want to do it, Amanda,” Joyce started. “It was Barbara’s idea.”

  “Are you going to tell me she forced you?” Amanda scoffed, irritated.

  “No, of course not. Please let me finish. I’m taking full responsibility for what happened, but I have to start from the beginning. Okay?”

  Amanda nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground in front of her as they walked. Joyce focused on the stream to the right of the walking trail and continued, “You see, my sister has never approved of Heather’s girlfriends. She thinks they’re not driven enough and have no real substance. I can’t say she’s wrong, to be honest. So when I told Barbara about you, Dingo’s veterinarian and my new, young lesbian friend, she immediately asked me to introduce you to Heather. She thought you’d be the perfect girlfriend for her daughter. I told my sister I would think about it, but I had no intentions of doing it. I didn’t want to trick you like that. I didn’t want to risk Heather hurting you. And, quite frankly, I didn’t want to share you with anyone.”

  Joyce paused and glanced at Amanda, who didn’t react otherwise to Joyce’s revelation but slowed her step. Joyce matched her new pace and turned her attention back to the stream. “You’re very important to me, Amanda. I loved the time we spent together and I didn’t want you to spend that time with Heather. Or anyone else.” She heard her take a deep breath. “But then at the casino you mentioned you might be ready to find someone to love and I thought perhaps I was being selfish. I thought if I did introduce you to Heather, you could find love with her or with one of her friends. I really meant well. I realize now that it wasn’t a good reason to trick you into meeting Heather. I’m so sorry I did that, and I wish I could take it back.”