Must Love Dogs: New Leash on Life (12 page)

"
What kind of plastic thing?" Lorna said. "I mean, maybe we could adapt it for the classroom. Can you imagine how much easier the school year would be if we didn't spend half of it scrubbing paint off the kids?"

"Ooh," Gloria said. "Here you go, honey." She handed me a gift certificate to Foofoo's Four Footed Bakery. "Not that I think you have anything to worry about."

"
Yeah," Lorna said. "But just to be on the safe side, next time you go over there, you might want to dab some peanut butter on your ankles."

Chapter

Fifteen

I was sitting on my couch, my father and my brother Michael on either side of me, Mother Teresa draped across our feet like a furry blanket. We were all wiggling our toes gently, rocking her to sleep.

"
Thanks for bringing dinner, Dad," I said.

"
The pleasure was undeniably mine." He reached over and patted me on top of the head. "And might I add, my darlin' daughter, you heated it to perfection."

"
Thanks." I sighed. "I can't believe that was the last casserole."

"
You didn't make it?" Michael said. "And here you had me almost convinced you could actually cook."

"
Spaghetti pie?" I said. "Like I could pull that off."

Michael reached for his phone on the coffee table and checked for messages. It was at least the third time in the last five minutes.

"I don't trust those namby-pamby little things," my father said. "I'm no telephone operator, but it seems to me that when you cut off the wires, you've got to figure some of the messages are going to get derailed before they reach their final destination."

"
Ohmigod," I said. "Remember that first cordless phone we had? The beige one shaped like a brick with the long antenna? It took two hands to hold it, and it picked up all the neighbors' conversations?"

My father shook his head.
"I got a juicy earful or two from across the street one time when the mister got a ring on the ting-a-ling, I'll tell you. Nice people, but a wee bit too hot roddy for the likes of your mother and me."

Michael just shook his head and checked his phone again. Phoebe and the girls had been in Savannah for close to a week, and other than one text from Phoebe to say they
'd landed safely, and a phone call from the Savannah/Hilton Head airport from the girls right after that, there'd been radio silence.

"
No news is good news," I said. "If Annie and Lainie were bored, you know they'd be calling you every five minutes. Promise me you won't leave another message until tomorrow, okay? Once a day to say I love you is enough. After that, it gets a little creepy."

"
I'm not an idiot." Michael tossed his phone and it landed with a
thunk
on the coffee table. "But if I find out that bitch is keeping my daughters from calling me—"

"
Michael Aloysious Hurlihy," my father boomed. Over the years, our father had been known to bungle our first names as often as not.
CarolChristineSarah
, he'd say, rattling off my sisters' names as a way to get to mine.
ChristineSarahCarol
.
JohnnnyBillyMichael
. He'd given up entirely on trying to come up with our middle names. He used middle names only when he was angry or to make a point. The boys were all
Aloysious
and the girls
Penelope
. Even at my age, when I heard
Sarah Penelope Hurlihy
, I knew I was in trouble.

Mother Teresa looked up groggily at the sound of angry voices.

My father reached down to pat her as he yelled at Michael. "That bitch is the mother of your children. And married or not, you will treat her with the respect she deserves and find a way to do right by those daughters of yours until death do you part."

Michael ran his hand through what was left of his hair, then rubbed his eyes.
"I know, Dad, I know."

"
Phoebe would never try to keep the girls from calling you," I said. "She knows how much they love you. It's going to be okay, Michael. You'll get through this part and then you'll move on."

Michael shook his head.
"God, I remember saying almost the exact same thing to you when that asshole husband of yours left."

"
Michael Aloysious," my father said.

"
Sorry," Michael said.

"
It's okay, Dad," I said. "He
was
an asshole."

"
There'll be no more trash talking." My father put his feet on the coffee table and crossed his ankles. "And do not for one minute think that either one of you is too old to have your mouth washed out with a bar of Irish Spring."

"
Ha," I said. "Remember when you and Mom were on that swear jar kick? I think we filled it to the top with quarters in like two weeks."

Michael put his feet on the coffee table and crossed his ankles exactly like our dad. Neither of them was wearing socks with their boat shoes, which I was pretty sure, by my niece Siobhan
's assessment at least, meant that they were both total date bait.

"
What I'd really like to know," Michael said, "is why you and I are the only ones in the family who can't hold a marriage together. What's wrong with us?"

"
Thanks," I said. "I needed that."

"
'Tis not the way to look at it, Mikey boy," my father said.
'Tis
at the beginning of a sentence was one of my father's tricks for weighting it with historical significance by sounding like one of his own ancestors and waxing philosophical at the same time. "You children are still four for six in the marriage department, and our very own Sunday newspaper pronounced the national divorce average as a smidge over fifty-fifty. Hence, the proper way to see it is that statistically our family is significantly ahead of the curve."
Hence
was another one of my father's trick words.

"
Gee, thanks, Dad." Michael said. "I feel better already."

"
Yeah, no kidding." I put my feet up on the coffee table, too, my dog print toes a nice contrast to their boat shoes. "Now you've got me worrying about which Hurlihy marriage is going to bite the dust next."

Michael reached for the remote, turned on the TV.
Gilligan's Island: The Complete Third Season
was already in my DVD player, so all he had to do was click on the next episode.

The three of us sang along to the theme song. My father soun
ded a little bit like Frank Sinatra, but Michael and I weren't bad either, especially on our favorite line about the three-hour tour. It was simply amazing to me that you could go out for a sail and end up on an uncharted South Pacific island. I mean, why couldn't things like that happen to me? Although multiple boat collisions with my father at the helm in my childhood had left me feeling more comfortable on land than on sea. Plus, with my luck I'd get stranded with my family and the whole adventure would end up being just like the rest of my life.

Our singing woke up Mother Teresa again. She let out a beefy snort and wormed her head behind Michael
's ankles. It was hard to tell whether she was trying to get more comfortable or to block out our singing.

"
The Second Ginger Grant" started with a bang. Mary Ann and the rest of the crew were watching a scantily clad Ginger put on an island performance. Then Mary Ann hit her head.

"
Oooph," my father said. "That's some smog in the noggin'."

I smiled.
"Don't worry, Dad. I'm pretty sure she survives."

Sure enough, Mary Ann managed to get back up on her feet.

"Now she's cookin'." Apparently my father was going to do the whole play-by-play.

It turned out Mary Ann
's fall has triggered a case of amnesia, which somehow makes her think she's Ginger.

"
Like she could ever be Ginger," Michael said. "There's only one Ginger."

"
Ain't that the word from the bird," my father said. "I wouldn't mind watching some submarine races with that doll myself."

"
Are you two
kidding
me?" I said. "Ginger tries too hard. I mean, who wears an evening gown on a deserted island? And that beauty mark of hers looks like a total fake to me."

They both turned to look at me.

"She's way too high maintenance," I said. "Mary Ann is much more naturally attractive."

Michael reached for his phone.
"Don't have a cow, sis. Mary Ann makes a great coconut cream pie, I'll give her that."

"
And that's no small thing," my father said. "Given our current casserole condition."

"
Men," I said.

"
Your mother," my father said, "had the uncanny ability to be all kinds of beautiful at once. And she could cook like there was no tomorrow."

Carol didn
't knock. She just breezed in the way she always did, like she owned the place.

She walked right by us and turned off the TV.

"Hey," I said.

"
We were watching that," Michael said.

"
Can you get me a glass of water?" she asked me.

"
Can you get me a glass of water,
please
?" I said.

Carol smiled and opened her eyes wide.
"Pretty please with sugar on top?"

I pushed myself up from the couch and stepped over Mother Teresa.

Carol sat down in my place and opened her laptop.

"
I can't believe you tricked me and stole my seat," I said. "Get your own water."

"
Fine," she said. "Then you can pull up the online dating profiles I made for Dad and Michael."

A flashback to my own dating days hit me with such force that a shiver actually ran down my spine. I hightailed it out to the kitchen and poured Carol a big glass of water. While I was there, I took a moment to pour another glass for myself.
And to drink it. I loaded my dishwasher and rinsed out the sink. Then I opened my refrigerator and started checking expiration dates and dumping things into the trash. After that, I organized what little was left until everything was pleasingly arranged on the shelves.

I still couldn
't shake the flashback. And what was even worse was that a nagging thought had risen from the deep, dark, scary parts of my brain, and I couldn't seem to get it to go away again: How did you know whether you were staying with the person you were with because you really wanted to be with him, or only because you didn't want to have to go through all that painful looking all over again?

My cell phone was sitting on the kitchen counter. I grabbed it without thinking, woke it up. A new voicemail popped up. We must have drowned out the ring with our singing. I pushed Play.
Hi. It's me. John. I'm, um, checking in to see how you are and, well, to make sure your wrist is okay. And Horatio wanted me to be sure to tell you it was an accident. Scratch that last part. I know he can't talk. Listen, what I'm trying to say is that I felt we were on the right track all the way up until the tail end. Pun intended. Okay, maybe not. What I'm trying to say is that I think we should try it again right away. That way we can build on the progress we've made. Because I think we need to work things out between the two of you as soon as possible. Horatio isn't getting any younger. Ha. I guess none of us are. Okay, so I was thinking if you didn't have plans tonight, maybe the two of us would make the ride down. We could all walk the beach, pick up some fish and chips. Call me when you get this, okay?