TWENTY-SIX

Alannah leaps like a cat, landing squarely on Sean’s back and almost knocking him over.

“Hey,” he grins, recovering. “Next time just warn me!”

“Sorry, papi,” she laughs.

He gives her a piggyback ride for half a block down Steinway Street while she babbles nonsense in her Beavis voice.

“Out of the way, fools,” Alannah barks to no one in particular. “I am Cornholio!”

Sean bursts out laughing and can’t carry her anymore.

Barry and I are walking behind them, adding our own wisecracks to the spectacle. The neighborhood people crowding the sidewalk give us a wide berth when they see us coming. Their disapproving stares amuse us all.

Everybody’s in a good mood. It’s Sunday. We’ve got beautiful Indian summer weather. I made great money in the club last night. And I’ve just loaned most of it to Alannah in the form of a new wardrobe.

“You know I’m gonna get you back for this first thing, ma, right?” she keeps assuring me every time we buy something. But she’s visibly delighted by the new clothes.

We stop for ice cream on the corner of Broadway. Then we loiter in Sam Ash, where Sean picks up an Ernie Ball bass and begins to play it. His fingers fly across the fret board, resulting in a complex jazz line.

“Who is that?” I want to know.

“I made it up,” he says.

“You should buy that bass,” Barry tells him. “It suits you.”

“Dare to dream,” Sean snorts. “Maybe if I put it on layaway for seventeen years I can afford one of the tuning pegs.” He starts playing a Jane’s Addiction tune.

I’m so absorbed watching him play that fifteen minutes go by before I notice that Alannah isn’t with us.

“Barry, did Alannah tell you she was going someplace?” I ask.

He shrugs.

“I’m gonna go look for her. You two coming?”

“We’ll be right here,” Barry says. “Just come back when you find her.”

I locate Alannah about halfway down the block, staring in the window of a pet store.

“Hey,” I say, sidling up from behind her. “Thought we lost you.”

“Look at that one,” she says, pointing to a puppy with huge eyes. The dog looks like a little old man. “Look how cute he is!”

She taps on the glass, trying to get the puppy’s attention. Instead, she succeeds in getting the attention of a beefy guy with a shaved head and several India ink tattoos on each of his large arms. He leans his head out the door.

“You ladies wanna come in?” he asks us with a heavy Queens accent. He holds the door open.

Alannah’s eyes light up. She makes a beeline for the puppies. She coos over them like a little girl. “Look, ma,” she nudges me. “Look at his sweet little face! Oh, I miss my bow-wows back home.”

Bow-wows?

“What kind of dog is that?” I ask.

It’s cute, but only because it’s so tiny. Even baby rats are cute, and to me, this dog looks about the same as a rodent.

“He’s a miniature Doberman,” answers the salesman. “You wanna hold him?”

Alannah jumps up and down a little bit and claps her hands. “Bow-wows…”

The salesman smiles indulgently at the grown woman who is standing in front of him gabbling in baby talk. He reaches into the cage and hands her the dog. She gasps as the little miniature Doberman licks her face.

“Hi, papi,” she exclaims. “Awwww… you givin’ me kissies? You givin’ me kissies?”

I haven’t seen her this happy since she moved in. She squats on the floor cradling the puppy and looks up at me longingly.

“Ma, can I bring him home? I wanna bow-wow to go with your meow-meows.”

Shit. Is this what it’s like to have a kid?

We really don’t need a dog. Life is complicated enough, and there are already two cats living in the house. But I want to make her happy. I want to see this look on her face again. And I want to be the reason it’s there.

“Of course,” I consent. I steel myself against my gut, which twists in protest of the rash words flying out of my mouth.

“How much is he?” Alannah asks. I start humming “How Much is That Doggie in the Window” under my breath.

“Thousand bucks. He’s a purebred,” the salesman replies.

Her face falls.

“You can pay installments. Put a down payment on him. Pay more when you bring him for his shots. Long as we have your address,” says the salesman quickly.

“Really? How much do you need down?” she wants to know.

“For a pretty gal like you? Three hunnert dollar deposit.”

“I have a hundred,” she says, digging in her pocket. This is news to me.

The sales goon shakes his head. “I can’t take less than three hunnert for a deposit.”

Alannah hugs the dog and looks at me. “Do you have two hundred bucks, ma? I can pay you back.”

The little fucker is kind of cute, I guess.

“I’ll take really good care of him,” she wheedles. Just then, I see Barry and Sean walk by the pet store.

“Hold on,” I tell her, and I run outside.

When I tell Barry that we’re looking at a dog, he frowns. “Don’t I have enough to do already?”

“It’s not going to be our dog. Alannah says she’ll take care of it,” I tell him.

He sniggers coldly.

“You have to see him. He’s adorable,” I say, just as coldly.

It always gets me going when Barry acts like he’s an equal partner in my decisions – all the while not contributing to the household in any way.

I march back into the store with Barry and Sean behind me, and I hand Alannah two hundred dollars.

“Next week,” she promises me.

“When you have it,” I reassure her.

The money hurts. I’ve now given Alannah every penny I made last night. Plus some from the night before.

I’m not sure what makes me capitulate. I suspect that this is one more grain from my infinite sand pile of quests for love, acceptance, and family. I wasn’t blessed with the family I would have wanted, ergo, I’ll make my own. Out of other misfits like me. And I guess I’ll also do whatever I must to keep it intact.

We wind up buying the dog, some food, and a kiddie gate. She promises to keep her new pet in the kitchen until he’s housebroken.

“We’re going to need a cab for all this stuff,” Barry points out, rattling the shopping bags he’s been holding for Alannah all day.

“So get one,” I shrug.

I try to pretend I’m not at all perturbed. But I know what I did for that money.

I could probably break down an approximate dollar amount for every fib I told while my teeth were gritted with disgust. An amount for every nasty comment I ignored instead of reminding someone that I’m human. A value for every stolen grope that I let slide in order to get a bigger tip. And one for each sad, ugly little penis I had to look at with a straight face in those back rooms. Etc., etc., et fucking cetera.

But then, what’s money for, anyway? The rent is paid, and so are the bills. Of course I would like to save some money – it’s been a while. Still, isn’t living more important? This is the first time in my life that I’ve ever had the opportunity to do anything I pleased. I want to share it.

Sharing it with Barry doesn’t count. He’s a fucking sponge. Bought, paid for, all wrung out. And somehow not yet replaced.

The four of us cram into a gypsy cab after Barry puts the bags in the trunk. Alannah decided to forgo the box. She holds the dog on her lap.

“Papi,” she croons.

“I guess that’s his name,” I say. “Papi the puppy.”

At home, the cats each take one look at the dog, hiss, and run under the bed.

Barry sits on the floor, grumbling, in the hallway next to the kitchen. He opens the box the gate came in and starts to assemble it. Alannah goes into my bedroom and shuts the door so that she can try on all of her new outfits.

Sean follows me into the living room, where I light up a cigarette. I offer him one. He declines. “No cowboy killers for me, thanks. I only want to get cancer from the good guys.”

I laugh. “The good guys? Who are they?”

“American Spirit. All natural. No additives.”

“Excellent. A vegan smoker. With brand loyalty, too. Such a hypocrite,” I tease.

“Hey, I resent that!” Sean says. “Don’t ever call me a vegan.”

I’m really going to have to do something about this crush I have on him.

He looks at his watch. “Shit. I don’t have time to go to my grandma’s place and still make the last train back up to school.”

“Do you want to crash here?” I look around. “Although I’m not sure where we would put you.”

“Yeah, you’ve got your hands full here, don’t you?”

He glances around the living room. Alannah has her bags everywhere, open and spilling clothes out onto the chairs and floor. It’s a bit of an eyesore.

“Anyway, I have an early class tomorrow,” he says. “Thanks, though. Would you mind if I left my bass and my amp here until next time?”

“That’s fine,” I say. “Make sure that Barry knows it’s your stuff, though, or he might sell it.”

Sean makes a face. “He wouldn’t get much.”

“Hey, I’m sorry we didn’t get to work on the song today,” I tell him. “It’s been, well, a little hectic around here.”

“Let’s give it another shot soon. What are you doing the weekend after next?”

“Oh, yeah!” I brighten. “You should come over that weekend anyway. That Saturday night’s my twenty-first birthday. I haven’t made plans yet, but we’re definitely doing something.”

“Sounds like fun. I’ll be there,” he says. “Listen, I’ve gotta get going.” He leans in to hug me.

Suddenly, my two cats tear loudly out of the bedroom and down the hall, followed by the new puppy. Alannah is nowhere in sight. Groaning, I break away to separate the animals before they do any damage to the living room.

Sean raises his eyebrows. “You take care of yourself between now and then, huh?”

Continue reading:

« Previous: Next: »
Bookmark and Share

Leave a Reply