by Isabel Jolie
“That apartment was gorgeous. I can’t believe you didn’t have us over more.” I had them over for a goodbye apartment party a couple of weeks ago. It was an amazing space. No doubt about it. It sold unfurnished, so my parents officially gifted me the furniture. We have more than enough for the apartment we found, and I’ll be able to sell some of the furniture we don’t need to cover moving expenses. Other than gifting me the furniture, which was technically my college graduation gift anyway, my parents have been true to their word. I am on my own. Cutting up my father’s American Express card proved only mildly painful.
As if reading my mind, Anna asks, “How’re your parents doing?”
“Oh, good. They’ve been planning trips. Which is a big step. They went so many years with Dad not taking time off, going from one big project with a stressful deadline to the next one. It’s a transition.”
“Have they forgiven you for staying here?” She asks the question in a lower voice, as if it’s a sensitive topic. It’s not.
“Yes. I think it’s hard, you know, when a family business leaves the family. And I definitely harbor some guilt for not stepping up.” I tap the center of my ribcage to show them where the residual pain resides, the heaviness. “In some ways, it would have been a nice life, but I would’ve been a drag on the business. A partnership is tricky. They would’ve resented me, and my mind would have been boosh!” I mime an explosion with my hands and mouth. Yes, blown with boredom.
Olivia laughs. “Yeah, I’ve asked Sam if he’s expecting our kids to work at Esprit. He says no way. He wants them to go out on their own. Which, given it’s hard to come up with something more boring than backend solutions for financial services companies, I’d have to say it’s good he has no expectations on that front.”
“Are you guys talking about having kids?”
“One day. Definitely.” Olivia sidles up to me. “What I want to know is how’s the insta-mom thing going?”
Of course, she’s fascinated. I’m the first one of my friends to have a child obligation. I’m not Kara’s biological mom, but I am in a parental role in her life. “It’s good. She’s easy. She’s like a mini-me. If he had a son, well, I might not say that. I watch those boys on the playground. They are rough and loud and at times crazy stupid. I’m not sure I’d be so into it if he had a son.”
Olivia and Anna laugh, but I’m so not joking. They don’t get it. They haven’t spent time on a playground. Like, little boys are beasts. “No, I’m serious, ladies. When the time comes, mark my words. It could be worth researching which sexual positions increase the likelihood of daughters.”
Chase shuffles through the apartment at that moment, phone to his ear, and throws a wave to us as he heads out to join the men on the patio. Anna angles her glass his way. “I always thought the two of you would make a cute couple.”
“Are you insane?” Absolutely no way. “He’s always wearing crass t-shirts. And he’s such a player. What do you want to bet he’s on the phone setting up plans with some innocent girl for after he leaves here?”
Olivia spreads some honey and cheese onto a cracker as she watches Chase through the glass. “But have you noticed he never brings his women around us? He always meets them later. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
Anna twirls on the stool, a sign she’s now on her third glass of wine. “Not true. I’ve met his girlfriends before. It’s been a while, but I’m still friends with one of his exes.”
Olivia scoffs. “That was a long-ass time ago, Anna.”
At that moment, Jason, Sam’s best friend, passes through. He nods with his perma-serious expression and places a bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer on the counter. The dude never smiles. Olivia gives him a hug and thanks him for the offerings.
Once the glass closes behind him, I ask Olivia, “What’s his deal?”
She’s at the oven, checking on the bubbling casseroles she’s made for us. “He’s not a talker.”
“You don’t say.”
“According to Sam, he’s got a lot going on. He’s working through it.”
I check the time. It’s getting late and, while Kara is most likely full on cheese and crackers, she can be a whiny girl if we don’t get her in bed at a decent time. Since no one else here is on a kid schedule, I’ve got to step up and keep this party moving. It’s funny how definitions change, because not too long ago, keeping the party moving would have meant heading to the next bar. “Is anyone else coming?”
Olivia understands what I’m getting at with my question. We hang enough on weekends that they’re used to us cutting out early. Sometimes Mason’s mom watches Kara, but we keep that to a minimum since she helps out so much during the week.
On cue, the automatic sliding doors open, and Kara enters. Anna and Olivia busy themselves by setting the casseroles out. Kara pulls me over to our cupcakes. She and I spent the afternoon baking Magnolia Bakery blue icing knockoffs, and she’s beyond eager to dig in. Not too long ago, I brought wine to these shindigs. Now, we’re the designated dessert team. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Mason sidles up behind me and leans over my shoulder as I set out the cupcakes. Kara eagerly licks a bit of the icing from the side of our carrying case. Mason presses a soft kiss below my ear, and I swipe a touch of icing and let him lick it off my finger. No, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue
One year later
Mason
“Daddy, can we keep her?”
Kara’s sitting on the ground, sitting cross-legged with a small, skinny, scared young dog in her lap. I volunteer my time at the ASPCA and treated the animal when it was first rescued, chained to a fence in a lot and abandoned. Bet stands behind Kara with a cat-ate-the-canary smile. The woman loves to find homes for animals, and she knows she’s probably got me.
I managed to keep the random strays in the office or at shelters for years, always afraid to bring them home because I could barely manage taking care of myself and my daughter. Upkeep for any animal, even a hamster, would fall on me, and then sometimes my mom.
Now, Kara’s animal collection has expanded to include a bunny, a parakeet, and two teddy bear hamsters. I’m going to have to ban Delilah and Kara from visiting the vet clinic or assisting at the ASPCA events, because I don’t have the willpower to say no to the two of them, and Kara’s playroom is turning into a small animal shelter.
We found a rental near the clinic that Delilah and I could afford together. At her insistence, I kept my apartment and rented it out. She explained to me that while she liked my furniture, we didn’t need any of it or have a place for it, and there were others in need who could greatly benefit from it. Yes, my beat-up sofa and La-Z-Boy both went to Goodwill. Without any furniture, the move was quick and easy.
Delilah and Kara had fun decorating her new big girl room, since her bedroom in my place had been her nursery, still painted in baby green, and they explained to me she needed something older now. I still don’t completely agree with that assessment. We did pack up her artwork, and Delilah framed a ton of it for her hallways and strung metal lines on Kara’s new playroom wall to hang her evolving art.
Under Delilah’s direction, she’s become a talented artist. She’s moved beyond princesses, and now she loves to sketch and paint landscapes. Delilah’s urging her to embrace abstracts. The two of them are always doing craft projects.
Delilah’s arm wraps around my waist as she steps into my side with a sneaky grin. “Ready for a dog?”
“A cat would be so much easier. We could leave a cat with food when we go out of town on the weekends. A dog means we’ll need to either kennel it or have a pet sitter. And it’ll have to be walked multiple times a day.” I gaze down at her as I consider all the reasons a dog doesn’t make sense. Of course, Delilah never worries about money, because she’s just not used to doing so, but I know firsthand how expensive dogs can be.
I can’t help but weigh all the ramifications of the commitment we are considering.
Plus, owning a dog in an apartment bears with it greater time requirements. There’s no back door to open and let them run free. And right now, our apartment is close to the clinic, which makes it easier to own a dog, but we’ve agreed one day we’ll buy a place, and it’s quite possible we won’t be able to afford Manhattan.
She squirms near my side. “I’m more of a dog than a cat person. And look at how happy Kara is. How big do you think the doggy is going to get? Couldn’t it fly with us?” We go to New Orleans almost every other month. We would probably go more frequently, but her dad has been keeping his promise to not throw away today worrying about tomorrow and working away on their travel wish list. Right now, they’re on a Seaboard cruise somewhere near New Zealand.
I tug on my chin as I consider the odd heap curled up in Kara’s lap. It has the ears of a terrier, but the fur isn’t curly. It’s more of a matted mess. The undernourished dog probably weighs about twenty pounds, and at around a year old, most likely won’t get much bigger, only fatter. I’m a fan of mutts, but this one is a less attractive specimen.
As if reading my thoughts, Delilah says, “She’s as homely as a mud fence, but that kind of makes her cute, doesn’t it? And I bet once we fatten her up and get her groomed, she’ll be a total cutie. And she’s bonded with Kara.” She presses her curvy body against mine.
Kara aims her big, pleading eyes at me. “Please, Daddy. Please.”
Delilah’s baby blues silently beg, and I’m sunk. The dog will be coming home with us.
I smile, and before a word is out of my mouth, Delilah and Kara are both squealing, and Bet has her hands clasped beneath her chin while she twirls to and fro.
I finish up with some of the vaccinations and answer questions from one couple passing by. Their cat has stopped using the litter box, and we talk about possible reasons that could be as Delilah finishes up all the paperwork required to complete the adoption. Our last responsibility of the day is to help the volunteers load cages to return to the shelter. They set up for the day outside in front of a local PetCo. We all pitch in.
During all the wrap-up activity, Kara remains on the ground with the little mutt snuggled on her lap. I stop and pull out my phone to snap a photo and a short video. Kara’s sitting on the ground, chatting up her new love.
“You’re gonna love your new home. Daddy’s the best vet in the world, so you’ll always be healthy. And Delilah, she’s gonna be a good mommy. She’s not our for real Mommy yet, but she will be. She makes the best mac and cheese.”
My breath catches, and I stop the video and step away as she chatters nonstop.
When we get home, Delilah and Kara hurry upstairs to get our new family member situated in Kara’s bedroom. I head to our bathroom for a shower. Showering after handling animals all day has become habit.
I’m lifting a shirt hanger from the closet when Delilah presses her body behind mine, the softness of her breasts pushing against my back as her hands roam my bare chest.
“Did you come to shower with me? I would have waited for you.” I twist to face her and kiss her soft lips. Her hair is piled on top of her head, and she’s wearing a gray crop top sweatshirt with well-worn, faded jeans.
I slip on my t-shirt, and she beams up at me. Her nose ring glints in the light, and I bend down and place a soft kiss above it.
Blue irises peer into mine as she drops to one knee. My chest tightens, and I coach myself to keep it cool. A tentative smile graces her lips, and she inhales deeply enough her chest visibly rises and falls.
“I don’t have a ring. I had planned to tie a note to Mary, but I can’t get her out of Kara’s hands, and she’s too skittish to walk up to you, anyway. You asked me once before, and I wanted to say yes, but I didn’t think I could handle it all, be true to you and to the others in my life. You’ve helped me see I have enough love to find ways to be there for everyone, as long as I’m true to myself first. And I didn’t believe I could fall in love so quickly, but I did. Completely. Heart and soul. Will you marry me? Spend the rest of your life with me?”
I drop to my knees and kiss her. My fingers glide along her swept-up hair, and I pull on the hair band until her bun falls out and the golden mass falls down her back.
“Does that mean yes?”
I laugh. “Yes, yes, that means yes. I’ve been committed to you for life since the day we moved in together. Someone told me marriage was just a piece of paper. I took that to mean that if I want you for forever, I need to commit to forever, but love you as if you could walk away any day.”
A small hand taps against my back. Kara sidles up to us, much closer to our height since we’re both on our knees, her small mutt clutched in her arms. She’s smiling as the dog squirms, clearly not as comfortable in her arms when she’s standing as when she’s sitting.
She sets Mary down on the ground and throws her arms around us. “We’re getting married.”
I kiss the top of her head. “Yes, baby girl, we’re getting married.”
“That’s why I named her Mary.”
I hold Delilah close to my side while I ask Kara, “You knew she was going to propose?”
Delilah smiles down at Kara. “I had to ask her permission.”
“And I said yes!” Kara squeals with her arms out wide to her side. She’s become a regular little Delilah, using her arms and hands to emphasize her words.
I pull Delilah to me and kiss her, a proper kid-in-the-room kiss. Tonight, Kara will be going to bed on time. Maybe even earlier than bedtime.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mary sniffing around. “Kara, it looks like we need to walk Mary. You see when she’s sniffing around like that?”
“Yes.”
“It means she might have to go to the bathroom. We’ll have to train her to give us a signal, but for now, we’re going to have to watch her, okay? Let’s go get our shoes on and take her outside.”
It takes a few minutes for Kara to find her missing shoe because, inexplicably, only one sits in the entry hall. Once we all have shoes on our feet, the three of us leave the apartment, heading out to walk our dog.
Notes & Acknowledgements
When I was a teenager, I wanted to be a writer. Aunt Josie encouraged me but made me promise that if I ever became a writer, I would include her in a book, and that I would make her “tall, skinny, and beautiful.” Of course, she (my aunt) is beautiful. My father’s eldest sister, she has a sharp wit, feistiness, strength, and the well-deserved love of all of those around her.
When I placed out of college freshman English, she told me I absolutely could not skip the class. “It will be the best class you take in college.” I am incredibly grateful for her advice. You see, Josie was an English teacher. She knew what she was talking about.
I shared the first few chapters of Walk the Dog with a Gotham writing class. In my first draft, Delilah cussed like a sailor, and the overwhelming feedback was that I needed to curb the enthusiasm. One of my good friends says things like, “Oh, Mylanta” in lieu of naughty words. Her boyfriend sent me a whole list of “Nicole-isms,” and I adapted them for Delilah. Someone later asked me if someone would really say these things. The answer is yes. Yes, someone would. A real live person does. Thank you, Nicole Biffle, for providing the inspiration to bring Delilah to life.
On the tennis courts, there are some of us who let it all flow, and there are others who are far more ladylike. A favorite partner of mine, Sharon McAffee, would shout out, “Oh, sugar!” when the ball hit the net. We were quite the pair. While she was sprinkling sweetness, I was dropping f-bombs. A beta reader once asked me if southerners really say, “Oh, sugar.” The answer is yes, there are some fine southern ladies out there who do.
Mason is inspired by a sexy veterinarian featured in People magazine from years ago. So, yes, these mythical single creatures do exist. Or at least they did. That guy's gotta be snapped up by now. For those who recognized Mason’s last name, Herriot, yes, it is a nod to the most infamous veterinarian of all time and his books
that I loved.
I’d like to once again thank Lori Whitwam for her editing expertise. She improves the story, and I swear, will one day help me to relearn all those grammatical rules I willingly forgot. Heather Whitehead copy edited this right as COVID-19 wreaked havoc on our lives, and I’d like to thank her for finding a way to focus on this when it felt like the world was falling apart.
Adlina Hamid-Yeow created multiple versions of the cover for Walk the Dog. And when I say multiple versions, I mean she even did an illustrated version. Huge thank you to Adlina for her patience with me and for creating awesome cover(s)!
Walk the Dog has had many beta readers and I’d like to thank them all, even those who only read a few chapters. Allison Miller read the roughest initial draft, and she loved it. Her enthusiasm kept me moving forward through the many, many later drafts, as others criticized there wasn’t enough conflict. AmyClaire Mager, serving as a developmental editor, read through it and helped me see where to dig deeper. In the end, I wanted to share Delilah’s story, this blonde, energetic chick I envisioned as Anna’s colleague, and I can only hope I did her justice and others find her as lovable as I do.
Last but not least, I’d like to thank my husband for his support as I try to find my way into some level of a writing career. I know there are days when he wants to toss my laptop in the lake. His support, and the support of my family and friends, means the world to me.
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