The Art of Wag

by Susan C. Daffron

  Many hours later, the sun was setting and the painting was almost finished. It still needed something, but she wasn’t sure what. Roxy barked angrily and Tracy looked down at the dog. “I forgot! You probably want dinner, don’t you? Sorry.”

  Once she had fed Roxy, Tracy realized how late it was. How come Rob hadn’t called? He said he would after he got to his apartment. Maybe he’d had an accident. What if he wasn’t okay? How would she ever know? He could be lying in a ditch somewhere between here and Los Angeles. What if he had gone off the side of the mountain road? They’d never find him.

  She went to the kitchen, got a bag of chips, and settled in front of the TV with Roxy, but she couldn’t focus on the stupid sitcom rerun. What if Rob had gotten home and changed his mind about moving here? What if he was hurt? Should she call hospitals? The morgue? The phone rang and Tracy leaped straight up off the futon, slapping her hand to her heart. Maybe she should turn down the ringer on that thing.

  She picked up the receiver and breathed a sign of relief when she heard Rob’s deep voice on the other end of the line. She said, “How are you? I was starting to get worried.” Okay, she’d been beyond worried—more like on the high road to serious freak out.

  “I’m fine. It’s been sort of a strange day.”

  “Strange? What do you mean, strange?” She sat down on the futon and moved the chip bag away from Roxy.

  “You know how when a neighborhood gets fixed up they call it gentrification? What’s the opposite of that?”

  Tracy stroked the soft fur on Roxy’s back. “I don’t know. Slumification?”

  “I think we should be glad that when we considered options, we ruled out living at my apartment. My neighborhood has slumified more than I thought.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I got back to my place, the whole street was filled with police cars. I guess there was a shooting.”

  “What? Are you okay? Did someone die?” Tracy twisted the phone cord in her hand.

  “I don’t think anyone died. But someone shot at my apartment building. In the middle of the day. I guess they shot out a bunch of windows on the first floor. So the police were there and a bunch of neighbors were standing around out in front of the place. I tried to ask what happened and no one would talk to me. So I went up to my apartment.”

  “Did they shoot out your windows? Is there glass all over the floor?”

  “No. I live on the second floor. But moving is going to be a lot simpler than I thought. Someone broke in and stole everything.”

  Tracy gripped the receiver. “What? Are they gone? Are you safe? You’re not there, are you? What if they come back?”

  “No. I’m not there. I decided my car and I would like to spend the evening in a better neighborhood. I’m at the office. I don’t think gangs find office buildings particularly interesting. Plus there’s underground parking. You need a card to get in.”

  Tracy relaxed her death grip on the phone somewhat. At least he was safe. “I’m glad you’re okay. But they took everything?”

  He paused. “Not everything, I guess. They took the TV, stereo—pretty much all my furniture. They dumped all my clothes and files and stuff all over the floor. I got some Hefty bags and threw everything in them. It’s going to take forever to reorganize my files. Oh, and they left an end table that I found sitting on the curb when I first moved here. I had painted it green.”

  Tracy leaned back on the couch and covered her eyes with her hand. This was too bizarre. “So you’re saying all you have are clothes and a green end table? And a Hefty bag filing system?”

  “Pretty much. Oh, and there was a box of photographs. too. I’m so glad I left my computer in Alpine Grove.”

  Tracy dropped her hand and shook her head. “This is unbelievable.”

  “I took some of the bags down to my car and finally got the attention of one of the cops. So I spent most of the afternoon filling out reports about all the stuff I don’t have anymore.”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m so sorry this happened.” People she loved weren’t supposed to have their home ransacked. It was just wrong.

  “I really liked that TV. And my stereo. I guess I’m most sad to have lost all my music, though. They stole all the CDs too.” He chuckled. “They’ll be really pissed when they try to get those electronics to work, though. I rewired them to work with the computer. Without it, getting anything to turn on is going to be tough.”

  “At least you have your photographs. People always say that’s what they miss the most after their house burns down.”

  “Yeah. I’m just relieved that you weren’t here. After I took all the Hefty bags downstairs, I gave my landlord my notice and turned in my keys. I’m never going back there.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just gonna sleep on a couch here at the office and then tomorrow morning I’ll hand in all my work keys, laptop, and stuff. It’s all sort of surreal. Everything I own now fits into a Honda Prelude.”

  “It’s a pretty small car.”

  “I know. Sad, isn’t it?” He sighed. “So that was my fun-filled day in the city. What did you do?”

  Tracy paused. She wasn’t going to mention the humiliating trip out to Ben Walsh’s place. “Mostly I just hung out here with Roxy. Watched some bad TV. Spent some time worrying about what happened to you.”

  “You worried about me? That’s sweet.”

  “Hey, I love you. We just got that figured out. I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I really want you back here.”

  “I love you too. I’ll be back in Alpine Grove tomorrow sometime. I have your key. Unfortunately, all that laundry I was going to do here isn’t going to get done.”

  “After you return, maybe we can have a romantic trip to the Alpine Grove laundromat. It’s another local hot spot filled with fascinating human dynamics.”

  He laughed warmly. “That sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Roxy and I will be here. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  The next day, Tracy returned from work at the clinic and found Rob sprawled out on the futon. Given the dachshund-size dent in the comforter, Roxy had obviously been curled up next to him, but she stood up to bark when Tracy entered the apartment. Six Hefty bags were strewn around the apartment and the green end table sat next to her easel. She sat down on the futon next to Rob. He looked more disheveled than usual, even for him. He sat up. “Sorry to just dump my stuff all over the place and crash. I was tired.”

  She placed her hand on his cheek and ran her fingers through the hair behind his ear. “You may have noticed I’m not a stickler for tidiness.” She leaned to kiss him. “I’m really glad to see you.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Me too. I missed you. It’s good to be back here. Your mom waved to me through the store window. Even Roxy was nice to me.”

  Tracy kissed him again and grinned. “I see that! You seem to have a small furry friend up here on the futon.”

  “She’s figured out that if she stares up at me and looks sad, I’ll pick her up and let her hang out.”

  “You’re such a soft touch. Don’t get too complacent, though. You’ll do something to piss her off and then she’ll turn on you and my pots and pans will be all over the floor again.”

  He looked over at the recumbent dachshund. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  She stroked his arm. “Are you officially a member of the ranks of the unemployed now?”

  “Not exactly. That didn’t really go as planned.”

  She pulled away to look at him. “You’re not going to Nebraska, are you?”

  “No. But my boss was shocked that I was quitting. I suppose I didn’t give them much warning. My boss—Jim—he’s a nice guy. Even though I don’t really like what I do, it’s been an okay place to work in a lot of ways. It’s not really fair to not give them any notice.”

  Maybe she could give Rob some pointers on quitting. She had lots o
f experience. “I thought you had so much vacation, you could just leave.”

  “Well, technically I could. But there was begging. Lots of begging.”

  “Really?” She ran her fingertips along the contours of his shoulder, tracing his trapezius muscles. “I guess you were right. I’m not the only one who benefits from the whole visualization thing.”

  He gave her a quick kiss. “True. Jim tried to talk me into doing a few more jobs and I told him that I’d given up my apartment and was moving here. That kind of threw him.”

  “I’m getting the impression that you aren’t known for making spontaneous major life changes.” She outlined his clavicle with her fingertip and kissed his neck.

  “No. I’ve worked there doing the same thing for years. Jim refers to me as Mr. Reliability. I can fix the stuff no one else can.”

  Tracy pulled away from him and tickled his ribs. “I knew it. You are Dudley Do-Right.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Cut that out.” He caught her hands and moved them away from his midsection. “Jim wouldn’t let me give back my laptop. Or my keys.”

  “He wouldn’t let you quit? I’ve quit a lot of jobs and never had that problem.” More like don’t let the door hit your butt on the way out.

  “Jim gave me an incentive, I guess you’d say. A whole lot of money to do a networking job in Napa. Double my normal rate. I have to connect a group of wineries.”

  “Napa? As in wine country?” She put her arms around his neck. “That’s a heck of a lot nicer than Nebraska.”

  “The extra money would mean I could keep my car for a little while longer, until I figure out something else.” He brushed her lips with his. “I was thinking you could go with me. We could drive there.”

  Tracy smiled widely. “You want me to go on a road trip to Napa. Really?”

  “Yes, really. But only if you want to. They’re putting me up at some swanky place. Can you get the time off? Do you think Kat will take Roxy?”

  Tracy moved her hands to either side of his neck and kissed him eagerly. “Want to? Are you kidding? Kat had better take Roxy. There is no way I’m not going.”

  “I’ll have to work, but you could have the car.” He grazed her cheek with his lips and murmured in her ear. “It’s very hilly there. You could drive around through vineyards.”

  She wrapped her arms around him and hugged hard. “When do we leave?”

  “Next week.”

  Tracy released her hold and stood up. “I’m calling Kat now. And Gail. She can take my shifts at the clinic.” She clapped her hands together quickly and stomped her feet. “Wine country! Whee!”

  The next morning when Tracy opened her eyes, Rob was sitting on the edge of the futon caressing her cheek with one hand and holding mugs of coffee in the other. “Hi.”

  Tracy sat up, leaned over to kiss him, and took a mug of coffee. “You are truly the best alarm clock ever.”

  “Thanks.” He pointed at the painting. “You didn’t tell me you worked on that. It’s beautiful. I like what you added.”

  She ran her fingers through her tousled hair. “It’s still not done. But it was getting late. Roxy wanted dinner. Like I said, it’s a good idea to comply with her demands.”

  “I fed her breakfast.”

  “Thanks. I guess I have to go earn my six dollars an hour now. We need cereal and you have vetoed Cap’n Crunch. It’s still on sale, you know.”

  “Yeah, it’s all my fault.” He kissed her. “Speaking of which, if I sell the Prelude, that just leaves your car. Before it gets any colder, maybe I could take a look at it. I might be able to do something to keep it from dying completely.”

  “I think Joel said it needs spark plugs.” Tracy waved her hand. “I don’t know. The stupid thing doesn’t run in the winter. Or in the rain. And now it’s not fond of cloudy weather either. I have no plans to drive it for the next six months or so, after it goes into its winter hibernation.” She shrugged. “It’s sunny today, though. Do whatever you want to it. You can park it out in the field again, for all I care.”

  Rob looked down into his mug of coffee. “No. We might need it. After I unpack a little, I’ll take a look at it.”

  “I thought you didn’t work on cars.”

  “I said I don’t like to. Not that I can’t.” He took a sip from the mug. “I don’t have much else to do today, anyway. I’ll go to the library and see if they have the Chilton’s for that era of Subaru.”

  Tracy put her coffee mug in her lap, holding it with both hands. “What’s a Chilton’s?”

  “A car-repair book.”

  “Nothing you could possibly do to the Turd could make it run any worse than it does. When I took it out yesterday, I didn’t think it would make it home.”

  Rob paused before taking a sip of coffee and looked over the rim of the mug at her. “I thought you didn’t go anywhere.”

  “I...uh...went for a drive.” Tracy took a big gulp of coffee. “But I changed my mind, since The Turd was uncooperative.”

  “No fantasy driving flow happening, huh?”

  “Not even.”

  When Tracy got home from work, Rob was sitting on the floor in front of the futon with his laptop on the coffee table. His hair was wet and he was squinting at the screen. She put down her bag, grabbed his glasses from the green table, and handed them to him. “That looks uncomfortable.”

  He put on his glasses. “Thanks. It’s better now that I put Roxy on the futon. Having a dachshund in my lap was problematic.”

  Tracy sat down on the futon next to Roxy and ran her fingers through his damp hair. “I thought you were supposed to put the computer in your lap. It’s a laptop.”

  “You think this looks uncomfortable? That’s worse. Laptops can get hot.”

  She leaned over and kissed his neck. “Hmm. That could be bad. I didn’t think about that.”

  He turned and smiled up at her. “Life is full of trade-offs. How was your day?”

  Tracy leaned back on the futon, slipped off her shoes, and put her feet on the coffee table next to the laptop. “Nothing unusually disgusting or heart-rending. Just kind of an average day. I’m tired.”

  Rob extracted himself from under the coffee table and sat next to her on the futon. “I took a look at your car.”

  Tracy stared at the ceiling. “Ugh. Is it terminal? Can we shoot it?”

  “No. Sorry. It does need some work, though.” He pointed downward in the general direction of the gift store. “I took out the carburetor. It’s soaking in a bucket in a corner of the storeroom.”

  Tracy closed her eyes. “Eww. Soaking in what?”

  “Carburetor cleaner.”

  “Yuck.” She turned her head to look at him. “Does my mom know this?”

  “Yes. Actually she was very supportive of my efforts to revive the car. I learned a little more about its colorful past.”

  Tracy sat up straighter. “My mom told you? She’s never told me. No one ever told me the car was a way-out hippie-mobile. I never would have known if I hadn’t seen that photograph again.”

  “Your father painted it.”

  Tracy’s eye’s widened. “You’ve got to be kidding me. That Alice in Wonderland stuff was incredible. I didn’t even know he could draw, much less paint like that. And then he painted over it with that ugly brown paint? How could he do that?”

  Rob took her hand. “Your mom said that’s why they left the commune. He had tried to sell his art in a lot of different ways, and it just didn’t work out. You were getting older and they started worrying that they wouldn’t be able to take care of you. So they moved into town and got jobs.”

  “My dad was an artist?” Tracy looked down at the floor and shook her head. “He’s the one who drilled it into my head that you can’t make money as an artist. I can’t believe they didn’t tell me.”

  “I think your father didn’t want her to.” He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Your mom likes me.”

  Tracy leaned back on the futon again. “I think
she’s just relieved that I’m with someone who actually has all his teeth.”

  “The fact that your father couldn’t sell his artwork does explain why he was so against you doing anything art-related.”

  She closed her eyes. “I don’t know what to think about all this.” She opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. “Thanks for working on The Turd, though.”

  He squeezed her hand. “That is one dirty car. The engine is a study in grime. I was so ready for a shower by the time I was done.”

  “I know. I try not to touch The Turd unless I absolutely have to.”

  “Well, there’s a sentence that could be taken the wrong way. You’re too hard on that car. It’s just old.” Rob released her hand and readjusted his glasses. “By the way, I also went to the store and bought food. I had some ideas for ways we can eat inexpensively and not die from malnutrition.”

  Tracy opened her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed him. “Have I mentioned that I love you lately?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well I do. What’s for dinner?”

  “Pasta and veggies. Cheap and not filled with scary chemicals.”

  Tracy grinned. “Are you secretly a health nut?”

  “Not particularly.” He waved toward the kitchen area. “I just prefer food that does not include made-up names like crunch berries. What is a crunch berry? It doesn’t even make sense. Berries aren’t crunchy.”

  “Sometimes you can be a little too literal, you know that?”

  He gave her a kiss and got up. “Let me check my e-mail, then I’ll figure out dinner.” He rearranged himself on the floor, with his legs back under the coffee table.

  Tracy stretched out on the futon, pushing Roxy to one side so she could put her feet up on the arm rest. She closed her eyes. It was so nice to not be standing up anymore.

  Rob tapped her shoulder. “Hey. Look at this! This is—wow—I don’t believe it. They changed their minds!”

  Tracy propped herself up to look over his shoulder at the laptop. “What are you talking about?”