Alpha Dog

by Jennifer Ziegler

  “Please do,” Mrs. Krantz said. She produced a lacy handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and dabbed her nose with it. “I just know Mrs. B won’t sleep a wink today!”

  We waited until she’d toddled off to her apartment before shutting the door.

  “God, Katie,” Christine said, shooting me a less close-up version of Mrs. Krantz’s mournful look. “Are you okay? Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but you look like death.”

  I winced slightly, and Christine’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say—”

  “It’s okay.” I trudged over to the answering machine. “Did anyone call?”

  “There’s a couple of messages for you. From last night.”

  “Really?” My heart started thumping frantically, echoing inside my ears. I pushed the Play button and held my breath.

  “Katie, this is Mother. Call me when you get in. BEEP! . . . Katie, it’s Mom again. Where are you? I hope you don’t make a habit of staying out late. How can you concentrate on your studies if you’re sleep-deprived? Call me. BEEP! . . . Katie? Are you still out? This is ridiculous. I’m going to bed. Call me first thing in the morning. BEEP!”

  I hit the shut-off switch and gripped my pounding temples.

  “You going to call her?” Christine asked.

  I shook my head feebly. “No.” I was barely holding it together as it was. A lecture from Mom could make me lose all structural integrity.

  So Dr. Skyler hadn’t called. What did that mean? Was Seamus still unconscious? Was she still working on him? Or . . . did the worst happen, but she hadn’t had time to let me know?

  Christine was still watching me cautiously. “Um . . . do you want something to eat?”

  “No.”

  “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Damn, this sucks! I’m so sorry, Katie! This whole thing is all my fault!” She trudged over to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, hugging one of her surviving stuffed wiener dogs to her chest. “I should have held on to him. I should have grabbed him before he got away.”

  Her voice was weak and tinny with emotion. I’d never seen Christine look so vulnerable before. Suddenly everything and everyone around me seemed surreal, and I wondered if I could still be asleep.

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. I walked over to the couch and patted her shoulder awkwardly. “You did everything you could. He was just too freaked.”

  Christine snorted derisively. “Yeah, because of my boyfriend. It’s Robot’s fault too. He’s such a little kid sometimes. I got so mad at him last night, I sent him back to San Antonio.”

  “Really? You didn’t break up with him, did you?”

  She stared down into her lap. “I don’t know.”

  I plopped down beside her. “But it’s not Robot’s fault either. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me.” My throat tightened and my face started twitching. “I called to him. I was just so happy to see him that I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t see the car backing up.” My voice broke and the familiar kick-in-the-chest pain came back. I’d thought I couldn’t cry anymore, but my ducts were once again manufacturing big, hot tears.

  Christine gasped. “Oh, no. Katie, don’t even think like that. It was just an accident.”

  I shook my head, loosening the tears, which began streaming down my puffy cheeks. Matt had said the same thing the night before. But those guys just didn’t understand. “I let him down,” I explained hoarsely. “He was my responsibility—is my responsibility. I should have protected him.” I slumped back against the cushions, hugging my knees to my chest.

  She bumped me with her shoulder. “Stop that. Listen to me. You saved that dog’s life! If it hadn’t been for you, he would have never had a chance! And you not only took him in, you turned him into a whole new dog. A great dog!”

  I stared at her blurry image. She was right about that; he really had turned out great. He’d come so far in such a short time. That was another reason this whole situation seemed incredibly unfair.

  “And there’s something I should confess to you,” Christine went on, tugging the bottom of her black tank top. “You really made me see what it means to own a dog. All that hard work and perseverance. I’d wanted a wiener dog for so long, but watching you, I realized I wasn’t ready. I’ve gotten two e-mails about dachshunds up for adoption, but I haven’t replied. I know I could never be as good as you.”

  “Of course you could do it!” I countered. “You’d be great.”

  “Maybe someday. But not now,” she said with a shrug. “So . . . do you want a ride to the animal hospital?”

  “Yeah. Thanks,” I said. As she started to stand up, I put my hand on her arm. “You know, you’re a really good friend, Christine.” It was a cornball thing to say, but I meant it. I’d been through so much with her these past few weeks that I truly trusted her. Probably even more than my friends back home.

  I expected her to make some flip comment about how snorting Mrs. Krantz’s perfume must have gotten me stoned. Instead her eyes got all murky-looking and she ducked her head sort of shyly. “Thanks,” she said in a barely audible voice. “So are you.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled weakly.

  “Um, Katie?” she added as she studied her chipped purple fingernails. “I just want to say, I know I threatened it, but I want you to know I would have never ratted you out to your mom.”

  “I know. It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. I can be a real bitch sometimes and, I don’t know, maybe I was jealous that your mom is actually interested in how you are—unlike my mom. I just . . . miss her sometimes.” Her eyes widened. “Wow. I’ve never said that aloud before. Not even to Robot.”

  I grinned at her and bumped her with my shoulder. “Maybe you should. He really seems to care a lot about you.”

  A knock at the door made us both jump slightly. My hand flew up to my aching head.

  “I’ll get it,” Christine said, leaping up from the couch. I heard her fumble with the latch and the pop of the door leaving its frame. Then her voice cried, “Hi, Matt!”

  I jumped to my feet—a movement that seemed to dislocate my frontal lobes. “Hey,” I said, gripping my forehead. I rounded the couch as he stepped inside. His sleepy eyes looked even sleepier than usual, and his wavy hair lay flat against his skull. I felt a spasm of guilt at having put him through such a rough night.

  “Did you hear anything from Dr. Skyler?” he asked.

  I shook my head gently. “No.”

  “Well . . . no news is better than bad news.” His mouth curled into a half smile. “You want a ride to the vet’s?”

  “I . . . um . . .” I glanced over his shoulder at Christine. She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Sure. I mean . . . are you sure? You really don’t have to.”

  He lifted his shoulders slightly. “I want to.”

  “Okay. Just give me some time to clean myself up and I’ll come over.”

  “See you in a bit.”

  As soon as he’d shut the door behind him, Christine flashed me a knowing grin. “You know what? That guy seems to care about you too.”

  When we arrived at the hospital, a way-too-cheerful assistant informed us that there had been no change in Seamus’s condition, but that Dr. Skyler would be available to talk to us in a little while if we wanted to wait. She then presented me with a bill for services rendered thus far, totaling $1,162.54.

  As I handed her Mom’s emergencies-only credit card, I realized I was setting off a self-destruct sequence. Mom would have a supernova freak-out when she saw the bill—especially considering I hadn’t actually told her about Seamus yet. But I couldn’t worry about that. My mind was too busy agonizing about my present situation to care about any future catastrophes. All I wanted was for Seamus to get better, no matter what it took.

  The office looked different by day. It was brighter and busier. Jazz music was playing on an unseen sound system, and the perky assistant kep
t flitting about, opening drawers and answering the phone in a singsongy voice. A large birdcage sat on the counter. Inside, perched atop an orange rod, was a brightly colored parrot with a bandaged left wing. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” he kept saying in his shrill, nasal bird tone. “Come here, kitty, kitty.” Again, I felt as if I’d fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole into a bizarre parallel universe.

  “Here you go!” the assistant crooned merrily, handing me my receipt. “Please have a seat. Dr. Skyler will be out as soon as she can!”

  I nodded mutely, focusing on the walls in back of her as if I could melt them away and see Seamus. Failing that, I trudged off to the waiting area, pinching the receipt in both hands.

  “How’re you holding up?” Matt asked once I’d settled into the seat beside him.

  “Okay,” I replied as I folded the paper into fourths and slipped it into the front pocket of my jeans. My voice sounded far away, even to myself.

  Matt looked like he didn’t buy it. “You sure?”

  “Yeah. It’s just weird being back here. It’s hard not doing anything.”

  “I know,” he said. “When they were working on Jessie, I felt . . . I don’t know . . . useless. I knew I couldn’t exactly operate, but I still wanted to help in some way—just hold a scalpel or something.”

  I nodded. That was exactly how I felt.

  “Sorry,” he said as if suddenly embarrassed. “I guess I shouldn’t have brought up Jessie.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m glad . . .” I paused, unsure how to phrase it without sounding stupid. Glad for your loss? Glad your dog died and you can help me in case my dog does? “I’m glad you understand,” I said finally. “You’ve been really great to me. Thanks for . . . well . . . everything.” I smiled as wide as my puffy features would allow.

  He smiled back, and a coziness oozed over me like warm syrup. I couldn’t believe how amazingly nice Matt had been to me. The guy had seen me at my absolute worst. Holding a bag of poop, yelling at him, crying until I was a snotty mess. Even now, I should be embarrassed as hell to have him see me like this: half-swollen with grief, hair in a greasy ponytail, wearing a T-shirt and jeans I’d dug out of a pile of dirty clothes (I hadn’t had a chance to do laundry). And yet for some strange reason, I wasn’t embarrassed. And for another, even stranger reason, he was still there.

  “Um, hey. There’s something I should tell you,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “I didn’t exactly tell you the entire truth before. About Jessie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s true that I was sort of avoiding Seamus for a while because I was still getting over her death. But . . . I was also avoiding you.”

  “Me?” I suddenly felt uneasy. “Why?”

  Matt scowled into the distance. “About the time I lost Jessie, I also went through a bad breakup. She and I had been together for over a year, and even though I knew it was totally over, I was still sort of freaked. The last thing I wanted to see was a beautiful girl— especially one with a dog.”

  I sat completely frozen, holding my breath. Beautiful? Did he just call me beautiful?

  “At first I thought I could just ignore you guys all summer—not in a mean way, just not as friendly as I wanted to be. But you were right next door and I sort of got pulled in a little . . . then a lot. Once I got to know you guys, I didn’t want to keep my distance anymore. I wanted to get to know you better. In fact, I still want to know you better— a lot better.” He let out a sigh and raked his fingers through his floppy bangs. “You don’t have to say anything. I realize you’re with that guy Chuck, but I just . . . I wanted you to know how I felt.”

  If I was stunned before, I was near comatose at that point. Matt wanted to be with me? For real? In my broken mental state, it was near impossible to process it all.

  “You . . . ?” I began, my voice tapering off weakly. I wanted him to keep talking, to explain in no uncertain terms what he meant, but my systems seemed to be shutting down into some sort of primitive protective mode. I just couldn’t think about this right now. I couldn’t handle another big shock.

  A shadow fell over us as someone entered the waiting area. I glanced up and saw Dr. Skyler standing in front of the sunny window, looking slightly haggard.

  I rose to my feet. “Seamus?” I cried. “Is he— Is there any change?”

  Matt stood up and placed his hand on my back, lending me his strength.

  “We’ve been monitoring him closely all night,” Dr. Skyler said, “and it looks like he’s going to be all right.”

  I let her statement slowly penetrate. Seamus . . . was . . . going . . . to . . . be . . . all right. He was going to live! “Oh my God! Oh, thank you!” I ran forward and threw my arms around her, tears of relief rolling down my cheeks. “Thank you so much!”

  It was as if I’d burst out of a gloomy cocoon. Suddenly everything around me looked shiny and beautiful. The worn plastic chairs. The flecked vinyl floor. Dr. Skyler with her tired blue eyes and blond Peter Pan haircut. I was in a sparse and rather antiseptic paradise.

  Dr. Skyler laughed and patted me on the back. “He’s awake now,” she said. “Would you like to see him?”

  “Yes!”

  We followed her down the corridor into a sort of pint-sized ICU. There were shelves of medical supplies and all sorts of fancy machinery. Kennels had been built into the far wall, with large stalls for the big animals and a row of smaller cages on top. Dr. Skyler lowered the door of one cubicle and gestured for us to approach. Seamus was lying on his side, still heavily bandaged. Only this time, his eyes were halfway open.

  He’s alive! I thought as I raced to his side. Thank God, he’s going to be okay!

  “Don’t pick him up,” Dr. Skyler said. “And remember he’s still medicated. He can’t interact with you much.”

  I stepped forward and began stroking the wiry, unruly fur on his ears and the top of his head. “Hey, fella,” I said softly. Seamus let out a low, happy-sounding moan and licked my wrist. He looked weak and kind of hungover, but it was Seamus. He was back.

  “I’ll give you guys some time to visit.” Dr. Skyler gave me another warm smile and headed out the door.

  I saw Matt start to follow. “Wait,” I called. “Please stay.”

  “You sure?” he said, looking sort of hunched and uncomfortable. I thought about his earlier confession and how awkward he must have felt.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I really want you to be here.”

  He walked up beside me and grinned down at Seamus. “Hey, dude,” he said, rubbing him behind the ears. “Glad you’re going to be all right. You sure are a tough guy.”

  Seamus beamed back at him, his tail thumping sluggishly.

  “I’ll bring you home soon, buddy,” I said. “I promise.” I picked up his left leg and kissed the soft pad on the underside of his foot over and over. Then, without thinking, I slid my hand over on top of Matt’s, lifted it off of Seamus, and raised it to my lips.

  He smiled faintly, his forehead puckered in confusion. Reaching up with both hands, I cupped his face and pulled him toward me. As he came closer, I could see streaks of green in his wide gray eyes and a soft line dividing his pillowy lower lip. I saw those same lips lift slightly, and then . . . they were on mine.

  It was not like kissing Chuck at all. With Chuck I’d always felt awkward and hyperconscious. Worried about my breath and hair. Confused about where to put my hands. But with Matt everything was more . . . well, more. More exciting. More right. There was no hesitation and I instinctively seemed to know what to do. Our bodies shifted, effortlessly settling into each other’s contours. And our mouths just seemed to find each other, zooming together like magnets.

  And there was something else. As we kissed I realized that I was happy. Not just ho-hum, can’t complain, everything’s-hunky-dory-type happy, but really, truly happy. The kind of happiness that makes the sunlight sparkle brighter and the air smell sweeter and your chest flutter as if your heart is sprout
ing rainbows and roses inside your chest. Seamus was going to be okay and Matt was kissing me. Things hadn’t felt this right in a long time. Maybe never.

  Gradually we broke off. Matt leaned back and gazed into my eyes, his mouth curled into a sheepish and very adorable grin.

  “What about your boyfriend?” he murmured.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said, pushing his bangs off his forehead.

  “Really?” His grin widened. “Would you like one?”

  I smiled and we kissed for an unfathomable amount of time. It would have been longer, but a strange thwacking sound made us pull apart. We turned toward the noise and saw Seamus, grinning a broad doggie grin, his tail whapping against the cage as fast as my own heart was beating.

  15

  “Dudes! Check this out!”

  Christine and I came out of the kitchen where we’d been making quesadillas for dinner. Robot, Lyle, Kinky and Matt were sitting in the living room, all of them huddled around something.

  “Yo. Come watch this,” Kinky said, gesturing Christine and me closer with a bob of his bushy head.

  We exchanged tiny shrugs and ventured toward the guys. As we came up behind them, I noticed MTV had been muted. Seamus was sitting in front of the coffee table, his little chest puffed up with pride.

  “Okay. What’s the big thing?” Christine asked, resting her hands on the belt loops of her ripped, low-riding jeans.

  “Kinky taught Seamus a new trick,” Matt said, sounding slightly incredulous.

  “No way!” I exclaimed. “We’ve only been out of the room fifteen minutes.”

  “Believe it,” Robot said, nodding. “The little bugger is right smart.”

  “And Kinky’s sort of like an animal,” Lyle added.

  Christine took another step forward and crossed her arms over her chest. “All right. Let’s see it.”

  Kinky smiled proudly and hunkered down in front of Seamus. “Yo! Seamus, dude! Give me five!” He held his big palm out toward Seamus.