Find Me I'm Yours

by Hillary Carlip

  I ran out to the streets, hysterically calling for them. “Toupee!!!! Boo!!!!!!” Between my cracked monocle and tears, I could hardly see where I was going. But if Toupee and Boo were around, they’d hear me calling. So I continued yelling for them. Some folks joined in and helped me look. I asked at each shop and restaurant, but no one had seen them. I called Liza, crying, and I could barely get out what happened between full on sobs.

  “You’re gonna find them,” she assured me. “Make some signs. Put them up in the neighborhood.”

  OK, that sounded right. I ran home and pulled out some poster board I happened to have under my bed and started writing out signs. My tears dripped on them, running the ink, making one look like it said LUST DOGS.

  Then, suddenly, the front door opened. I heard laughter. Boo and Toupee ran in and kissed my face all over, licking the tears away. I cried some more, this time with relief. I finally looked up to see S.H.A.R.I. holding their leashes, giggling with J.A.S.O.N.!

  “WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!” I screamed out.

  “Oh, hi! What are you doing home from work?” the Whacktress asked.

  “What are you doing with my dogs?????” I shouted back.

  She laughed. How could she not get that screaming meant I was PISSED?! “Jason misses them and wanted to hang out with them. So we posed them driving my car, took pictures, and posted them on Freak 4 My Pet. They’re hilarious! Look…”

  She brought the photos up on www.Freak4MyPet.com.

  “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” It felt like blood was spurting out of my eyes, much like S.H.A.R.I. getting killed in one of her slasher films. “HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK THAT WAS OK TO DO?!?! And you…” I turned to Jason—he knew that one of my guilty pleasures was going on Freak 4 My Pet to look at all the crazy pics and videos people post. “How could you let this happen? Is it because I was with Mark?”

  Now S.H.A.R.I. was riled up. “Leave him out of it!” she shouted back. “I do you favor and take your dogs out one day, and you’re giving me shit about it? You should thank me!”

  “Thank you? For hijacking my boyfriend AND my dogs, and posting them on Freak 4 My Pet like they’re all yours? That’s so fucked up!”

  My phone rang and I instinctively answered it. “WHAT?” OK, maybe I shouldn’t have picked up at that moment. Boo and Toupee were barking, S.H.A.R.I. was screaming, “I was doing you a favor, bitch…”

  “Mags? Hello?” It was my mom. “What’s going on there? Aren’t you at work?”

  “…and you broke up with him!!!!” S.H.A.R.I. continued shrieking. “He’s not your boyfriend anymore!”

  “I can’t talk now, Mom.”

  “What’s all that commotion?”

  “I’ll call you later.” I hung up and turned back to my psycho R.O.O.M.M.A.T.E.

  “Don’t you ever take one more thing from me again! Do you understand?” I didn’t even wait for an answer. I grabbed Toupee and Boo, banged my shin hard on a chair leg—“FUCK!”—and then I went into my room, slammed the door shut, and moved my chest of drawers against it.

  I tried to calm myself and breathe. If only for the kids’ sake. I got on my bed, called Liza back, and told her what happened, including everything that had gone on with Mark and Coco, too. She talked me down.

  “You can’t let any of them get to you,” she said. “You have to keep your eye on the prize.”

  Of course she was right. I had an awesome possibility in Mr. WTF. He was clearly way more interesting, creative, and COMMITTED than Jason, who suddenly seemed to have turned into a perfect shallow match for S.H.A.R.I., and Mark, who was equally screwed up.

  Liza went on like she was leading some positivity/manifestation seminar. I let her, and I tried to allow everything she said to sink in, like, “Act as if, and it will come. See what you want, FEEL it, and you’ll attract it in. What you think about, you bring about.”

  “Meeting my soul mate is ALL I’ve been thinking about,” I said. “I try to stay positive. So why hasn’t it worked for me?”

  “Cuz what’s really behind your thinking is THE CURSE. Sure, Narcie always said ‘I HOPE YOU DON’T GET the curse,’ but when you keep hearing that over and over, the other words fade away and all that’s left drummed into you is ‘THE CURSE, THE CURSE.’ Right?”

  “Makes sense. I’m fucked.”

  “You’re not. Just let go of the curse! Replace it with something else.”

  “OK, what do I actually do?”

  She laid it out for me. “You want to get married? Then see yourself at the altar. Feel it. Where are you having the wedding? Who did you invite? What are you wearing? Where are you registered? Use Bridalville for inspiration rather than it always reminding you of all you don’t have.”

  “Uh… speaking of all I don’t have, add my job to the list.”

  I told her what happened, and once again she put a positive spin on it.

  “That’s the universe just making room for you to do something you love!”

  I couldn’t not listen. “You have a great job, a killer apartment, a committed three-year relationship,” I said. “Obviously this stuff works for you.”

  “It does work. Trust me. Actually, I’ve been wanting to tell you some awesome news.”

  “Go!”

  “Kelly and I are getting married.”

  WHAT?!?!? My last remaining unmarried friend. Just kill me now. I got up from the bed and started to pace around my small room. “Wow, that’s fantastic,” I managed to get out in the most chipper voice possible. “Congratulations!”

  But Liza knew me too well. “I know you’re happy for us but I also know a part of you isn’t.”

  “No, I totally am. It’s just been a rough time for me.”

  “Well, honestly? I’ve been wanting to tell you the news for weeks but it’s never the right time. There’s been a lot of crazy drama going on with you.”

  “What can I say? Sorry if my fucked-up life is getting in the way of your perfect life!?” I sat back on my bed.

  “See, that’s exactly what I mean! You’re turning it around again to make it about you!”

  “Look, I don’t want to bring you down anymore, especially now with your happy news. Maybe we just shouldn’t talk for a while until I get my shit together.”

  “Mags, can you just be a friend and be happy for me? You’re sorta acting like your mother.”

  Ooh. That stung. Sucker punch right in the gut.

  “I’m sorry if I’m a shitty friend. Tell Kelly I’m genuinely happy for you guys. Gotta go.” I hung up.

  Fuck. I couldn’t believe Liza was getting married. And fuck, fuck, fuck—she totally nailed me. I was sounding like Narcie, and nothing could have freaked me out more than that. I was furious at Liza for saying that, but it wasn’t her. I was furious at Coco and Mark, and Malcolm, and my mom, and my dad, and Cooper, and S.H.A.R.I., and Jason. I could feel the heat rising in my head like it would explode. I was furious with myself.

  I couldn’t call Liza back. What would I say? She was wrong—I wasn’t like Narcie? My thoughts and actions would have to change first to prove it to her—to prove it to me.

  I remembered everything Liza had said. “See what you want, feel it, and you’ll attract it in. What you think about, you bring about.”

  It called for a list.

  What I’d Like to Attract into My Life Instead of All the Crap that’s There—and Am “Seeing and Feeling” Now

  By Mags Marclay

  1). I’m the maid/girl of honor at Liza and Kelly’s wedding, and I couldn’t be happier for them! We’re all celebrating, and we’re all good.

  2). I have a killer job! I’m working with fun, inspiring people and a boss who thinks I’m #RadAsFuck!

  3). I’m selling art. (OH and MAKING art first!)

  4). Cooper FaceTimes me with great news. “False alarm about Velocity!”

  5). I live in an adorbs house—with ANYONE OTHER THAN S.H.A.R.I.!

  Well, that was true—I wanted that for sure. But w
hat did I really want?

  6). Mr. WTF strolls out of our bedroom in our adorbs house, takes me in his arms, kisses me passionately, and the dog with the polka-dot tongue jumps on us both.

  I spent the next two hours picking out wedding gifts that Mr. WTF and I would find useful and enjoyable (after picking out the wedding gift I would get for Liza and Kelly with my last paycheck)!

  I wanted to show Liza that I could, and would, change, so I took the posi thinking/affirmation thing even a step further, and guess what I did?

  I ACTUALLY REGISTERED!!!

  If you feel like going and getting my future husband and me a wedding gift, there are really inexpensive things (we don’t want our friends spending too much!) and you can count on receiving a beautiful handmade thank-you card from me! Just search for Mags Marclay + Mr. WTF at:

  Link #1 www.target.com/wedding-registry

  Link #2 www.honeyfund.com (Well, if I’m visualizing a wedding, I better prepare for a honeymoon, too!)

  Link #3 www.Idofoundation.org (You can make a donation to some great charities in honor of our nuptials! Much more important than link #1 or #2!)

  My phone rang. It was Mark. Fuck, what could I even say to him?

  “Yes?” I answered coldly.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said.

  “For sleeping with a married woman or using me?” I got up from the bed. Toupee and Boo lifted their heads, poised to follow if I left the room, but we were still barricaded in.

  “I swear I wasn’t using you. Since I got out of my relationship—where I was completely faithful, I might add—I’ve been dating around. There’s no one person, especially Coco. She’s married. I know it was wrong to be with her, but you weren’t part of that in any way. I really like you, Mags.”

  “What am I supposed to do with that?” I asked.

  “Give me a chance to prove it to you. Go out with me tonight.”

  Achhh… did he have to say he really liked me? And that he wanted to prove it to me? How could I say no to that?

  Like this. “No.”

  “Then how about tomorrow in broad daylight. I want to introduce you to an artist I know who’s curating a group show at a very cool gallery and has one slot open. He’ll be at a crafts fair.”

  A crafts fair?! Did he mean like apple dolls with aprons and wire glasses, and healing aromatherapy candles that always do the opposite and make me sick because they are so overly stinky?

  “It’s an INDIE crafts fair,” he added, knowing exactly where I went with that.

  I had to stand my ground. To hold onto any shred of dignity and self-respect I might have. And how did I know he wasn’t going to sleep with Coco again right after me like he did before? “I appreciate the recommendation, but I’m still not gonna go with you.”

  “Then go without me. I’ll text you Al’s booth number and just go meet him at 5:00 and take some of your work. It’s the least I can do for you.”

  Well, why not maybe get something from this unfortunate turn of events?

  “Fine.”

  “Good. Again, I’m really sorry. If you can forgive me, I’d still like to see you.”

  “I gotta go.”

  We hung up and seconds later Mark texted me the info. I needed to put my attention back on Mr. WTF. If I didn’t get back to the hunt, how would I know whether he was someone to mistrust as well?!

  I made myself focus. The last clue I received from the señorita marionette yesterday was, “EET’S BIG. EET’S GIANT.” Of course there had been the boot car, the oversized rooster, and towering Mr. La Salsa. What else could there be? I Googled until I found some other giant things in Los Angeles:

  Some Giant Things in Los Angeles, Found Through Google

  By Mags Marclay

  1). Bulky item collection (not quite)

  2). Walt Disney Concert Hall (not so much)

  3). The Crystal Cathedral—the largest glass building in the world (def not)

  4). RANDY’S DONUT (distinct poss)

  I remembered seeing the giant doughy landmark at Randy’s Donuts just blocks from LAX when I was ten years old and first came to L.A. to visit my aunt Pam, who lived in Pasadena at the time. It seemed to fit in with Mr. WTF’s style. When I further Google imaged LARGE DONUTS LOS ANGELES, I found that there are apparently several monumental shout-outs to sweet, fried dough.

  And this one—the bagel angle is a clever departure, right?!

  Well, BIG and GIANT would be good things—at least I’d be able to SEE them until I had a chance to go scour thrift shops to find a pair of glasses that had a similar prescription to mine, and were cute enough too, of course, AND under $2.00. FUCK, should I go back and get my paycheck today? I couldn’t deal with seeing Coco, so I decided to go in on Monday when she was out of town. Maybe by then Malcolm would have even cooled off, and he’d offer me my job back.

  My email swooshed, so I checked and found five new messages. The first three were confirmations from the places I had registered for my wedding. The fourth was delightful spam, “URGENT! Bigger pen!s stimulates more nerve endings in female vag!na”(I wonder what it does to the male vag!na?), and the fifth’s subject line was even more exciting than number four’s promise. It simply said: HI MAGGI!

  I’d recognize that spelling anywhere. It was from my sister in solidariti—SANDI STERN! I clicked it open immediateli.

  Hi, Maggi!

  Notice what font I’m using? Thanks for turning me on to it! Just wanted to let you know that I was at Runyon Canyon yesterday and I’m pretty sure I saw the dog with the spotted tongue near the Mulholland gate!! I didn’t want to give away your surprise so I didn’t say anything to your cousin, but you and Princess may want to check there for them.

  Good luck! Hope all is super!

  Sandi Stern

  Things were starting to look a bit more super-er! I wrote her back, using lots of emoticons.

  Hi, Sandi!

  Thanks so much for being so terrific! I’m sorry I missed them but thanks to your tip, I now know where to look. Princess and I are heading out there right now. If we don’t find them, please continue to keep an eye out for us! Thanks again!

  Maggi

  I know. I should have said, “Keep an ‘i’ out for us.”

  Chapter 36

  DAY 8—AFTERNOON

  There are all these sightseeing vans on Mulholland with the tops sliced off like a can opener got to them, filled with understandably naïve tourists who actually believe THIS is the best vantage point to take pictures of the Hollywood sign.

  Some locals know better, and have found THIS spot:

  Whenever I take Boo and Toupee up there on a hike, I am constantly stopped by people with thick, intriguing accents who are trying to find their way closer to the sign. I never knew how to actually get up right to it until I found this totally cool hand-illustrated map an artist created that shows the exact route. Check it out:

  www.HollywoodSignCloseUp.com.

  Luckily I was behind several of these misguided vans. Because they go so slow, no one honked at me OR flipped me off!

  I parked in the lot in between two monster trucks (what are the odds of that?!) and headed to the upper gate of Runyon Canyon.

  This was the first thing I spotted when I walked in:

  And I suddenly did. This was a feeling that, through the years, would wash over me now and then, but mostly then. I had learned from a very young age to detach from my dad. To keep my desire to see him and know him at an arm’s length, and to never expect a thing from him, especially after he moved to San Francisco and started a new family. Cooper and I have a half brother and sister that we’ve never even met. After Dad left Mom, there was a quiet period. But a couple of years later, he started reaching out a lot, wanting to see me, and know Cooper. By then he was already a stranger, and I was still pissed off at him for leaving us all, so I pushed him away further through the years. Mom had to raise us on her own, and although she never showed it, I always felt the resentment bubbling beneath h
er independent-lady surface.

  FUCK. MOM! I forgot to call her back after the hilaria she overheard on the phone in the morning. I dialed, but there was no reception in the canyon. I’d have to remember to call her later.

  I hiked for almost two hours. Down and up the trails looking everywhere. If I saw blurs of brown from afar, I’d hurry to get closer. But no dog with a polka-dot tongue. No Mr. WTF. I did, however, see a man who had so much sweat glistening on his furry eyebrows he looked like a polar bear thawing out. And another guy with an unfortunate placement of brown flowers printed on the seat of his white shorts. Not a pretty sight.

  I was so hyper-aware now of potential clues—even though Mr. WTF hadn’t sent me to Runyon! Here are some of the suspicious things I saw:

  And what are the chances of seeing two dogs, in one hike, with totally different owners, like this???

  What, was there a sale on pink pet dye?

  I stopped to check out a sign listing rules and regulations, and read through carefully enough to catch an amusing typo.

  I would have a particularly hard time following #4 as I almost always feel compelled to awesome everything!

  I wondered if I would have noticed ANY of these things before the hunt. I’m pretty sure not. Well, maybe with the exception of the pink dogs. And uncannily, like several times before, ever since the day I found Mr. WTF’s tape, I saw a message meant for me, whether intended to be or not:

  When I was sure there were no clues left at Runyon Canyon, and no dog with a polka-dot tongue to be found, I headed back to the entrance, stopping one last time to examine this:

  I almost wept—sad weep for the people who put the sign up, and happy weep that I had come so close to being that person with the missing dogs just hours earlier, but wasn’t. I had even started making the signs!

  I got on my scooter and hit the road. And then a brilliant idea flew into my brain, like someone had littered it from the car window in front of me and I happened to be in its path. I rode back to my apartment as fast as possible—going maybe seven miles an hour instead of five. When I returned, thanks to my selfish, unthinking, hellhole-mate, and her actions of the morn, all I had to do was add a little more pertinent info to my already started LOST DOGS signs (plus a little white paint over the S in dogs!).