The Blessings of the Animals_A Novel

CHAPTER Nine

I’D NEVER BEFORE FELT THE BURNING IN MY BONES THAT I felt when I saw Bobby kissing another woman’s hand. Smiling two days after he’d left me. The burning threatened to eat through my skin into blisters.
He turned and saw us.
The someone turned and saw us.
It was Zayna Arnett.
I stared, my arms still stuck in my coat sleeves. Zayna Arnett? That ungrateful little bitch! It had been my idea for Zayna to waitress at Tanti Baci. Oh, I was an idiot. I’d never questioned why Zayna had shown up at Olive’s apartment Sunday morning. I just assumed she had a massage appointment. She knew then. Was she coming to tell Olive? Why? I flashed back to this morning at the clinic. She was sleeping with my husband and she’d come to work at the clinic? I imagined her telling Bobby, “She didn’t tell anybody. She just ran around like crazy, doing this weird breathing thing.” Had they laughed at me? My face blazed into its rash.
Bobby said something to Zayna, then he stood and came toward us.
I forgot how to walk. My coat was still half-on, half-off, cuffing my arms behind me.
He reached our frozen cluster. No one spoke until Gabby said, “I hate you,” then walked out.
Davy said, “I’ll follow her.”
Helen followed Davy out the door, Big David and Hank two steps behind her, leaving me standing there alone with Bobby, hopelessly mired in my coat sleeves.
“Here,” he said, reaching out to help me, sliding the coat up my arms. He turned me to face him, leaving his hands on my shoulders. I stepped back, almost recoiling, making him drop his hands. He held them awkwardly at his sides and I saw he wasn’t wearing his wedding band. Two days and he’d already taken it off! I wanted to hurl my ring at his head. I wanted the diamond to embed itself in his eye and blind him.
“So,” I said, “looks like you took care of those issues pretty quickly.”
He frowned. “What?”
“Those issues you said were going to keep you from ‘ever being with anyone ever again.’ ”
He stepped closer to me, lowering his voice. “It’s not how it looks.”
I barked a bitter, one-note sound. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”
He looked over his shoulder, and when I realized he didn’t want other diners to overhear us, I felt a dangerous urge to cause a scene. “Why didn’t you tell me that you rented an apartment?”
Zayna took two steps toward us but saw my expression and stopped. Don’t you dare f*cking talk to me. Don’t you say one word.
I looked from her to Bobby, then turned for the door. “I need to see to our daughter.”
I thought he might follow me, if not to talk to me then at least to comfort Gabriella.
But he didn’t.
IN MY BEDROOM, I LOOKED AT OUR WEDDING PHOTO ON THE bed stand. In it, Bobby held my left hand in both of his, and I reached up with my right to keep my veil from flying away in the wind. I kicked the table. The frame fell flat. The lamp wobbled but righted itself.
Max, who’d been asleep on the bed, sat up.
Well. That was not at all satisfying.
I kicked the stand again, harder, and tipped the whole table. The lamp wrenched its cord from the socket and fell to the floor. The frame fell but didn’t break. God damn it! I flung the picture against the wall. The glass finally shattered and sprinkled the hardwood floor. There. I kicked the wall. Pain shot through my toes and up my leg. Max whined.
I clutched my aching foot, cursing, but in a weird way, the pain felt good.
I thought of the biter sulking down in his paddock. Ah, my friend, I thought. I’m on to you.
THE NEXT DAYS BLURRED TOGETHER IN THE TOO-BRIGHT, headache-y cocktail of heartbreak, sleep deprivation, and hunger.
I buried my ring in my lingerie drawer. My thumb continually sought the ring, to spin it, startling me each time it touched only pale flesh, causing a zip of I lost it . . . then I’d remember.
Zayna quit at the clinic, “for personal reasons,” which forced me to finally gather my nine employees and tell them the news.
Aurora was outraged. “Is she even legal?” Her nose diamond flashed as she shook her head. “Classic midlife crisis. Idiot man makes ass of himself. Cami, I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” She asked if I needed some time off. But even if the clinic could afford that, what would I do with myself if I stayed home? I needed this place of emergencies and decisions. I needed the constant focus, assessment, and reaction the job required.
I caught myself doing things more characteristic of Big David’s mother, Ava: I left my keys in the car, I put my stethoscope in the refrigerator at work, and I was confused to pull a half-sandwich from my pocket when I needed to hear a puppy’s heartbeat. I found a bowl of Hank’s macaroni and cheese in the microwave a whole day after I’d put it there.
I had no appetite. Stay busy, stay busy, a frosty voice whispered in my head. I would show everyone just how strong and together I was. I’d put on a brave face for my desolate daughter.
I let the three-legged cat—who could not be called Champagne Toast—loose in our office during our lunch break, so he could try out his new moves. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly cat skin healed—after all these years I still marveled that no sutures were needed on a cat neuter. Bobby had flinched as I’d explained once, “You just anesthetize, shave, scrub, cut the scrotum, remove one testicle, tie the vas deferens on itself, then repeat with the second testicle. Done. No sutures. No fuss, no muss. Healing quickly within twenty-four hours.”
I pondered what I’d like to do with a scalpel and a certain scrotum right now.
Bobby didn’t call or e-mail. I checked at every opportunity.
I ignored another message from Olive. I could tell she still didn’t know. I loved that Davy could keep a secret sacred, just as he could be counted on to do when we were kids, but I hated Bobby for leaving the telling up to me. Was he just going to disappear?
Mimi left a message, too, in her too-loud, bossy voice, “My wayward son isn’t answering my messages, so I’m asking you: how many people are coming to this boy’s birthday? I need to start my shopping.” Oh, my God, Bobby’s birthday. “Maybe he doesn’t deserve a birthday dinner, if the son of a bitch is too busy to talk to his own mother. You tell him I said that, all right, doll?”
He hadn’t told his mother. Or his sister. The big coward. Couldn’t he at least leave them messages like he had for our daughter? At first the fact that he hadn’t told anyone had made me hope that he might still return. But now that Zayna factored into the equation, I fumed when I imagined he was simply too . . . busy to think of informing his family. Picturing Bobby and Zayna in bed together made me break slides at the clinic. Made me look at an X-ray and forget if I was looking at canine or feline bones. Made me miss an exit on the way home.
We’d been planning a birthday dinner at the farm. His mother was going to make her “gravy” and all his childhood favorites. I knew the relatives had already been given their assignments—Aunt Frannie would bring the roasted peppers, Aunt Louisa would bring the baked ziti, Uncle Tony would make his stuffed mushrooms, cousin Michael would make veal marsala, and on and on. My side of the family was never given food assignments—we brought the wine—except for Big David, who made the cake. Bobby would not be allowed to prepare a thing.
I let Mimi leave her voice mail as I watched the orange cat move about the office, trying out his new rabbitlike gait.
“F*ck THAT BASTARD’S BIRTHDAY,” OLIVE DECLARED when I found her sitting between Max and the goat on my porch.
Olive had been informed of the news by Cecile, a Tanti Baci hostess. Since Bobby hadn’t returned Olive’s calls, she’d stopped by the restaurant, to show Bobby her ring and pick up some take-out lasagna. As she was sitting at the bar waiting for the order—and for Bobby to emerge from the kitchen—Cecile had given her the scoop. Olive abandoned the lasagna and rushed to the farm.
She hugged me while Muriel nibbled my calf. “That bastard. I’ll kill the son of a bitch. And that little whore! What is she, twelve?”
“Twenty-two,” I said. As I unlocked the front door, Muriel pushed past my legs and tried to barge inside. I grabbed her leather collar, instructing Olive, “Go. Get inside. Quick.”
We headed into Bobby’s kitchen, where I felt like an intruder. I pulled a Chianti I knew Olive liked from our rack. She opened a cupboard for the wineglasses. Gabby was at a movie with Tyler, so I was relieved not to be home alone. Distraction kept me sane.
I apologized for not having told her myself, then, at her request, recited the story yet again. I told her how Zayna had dropped by her apartment. “I just assumed she had a massage, but I think . . . I think she may have been coming over to tell you, or ask advice or something.”
“Advice? My advice would be to keep her slutty self away from my very married brother.”
The thing was, I’d never thought of Zayna as slutty. I’d thought of her as funny and bold, vibrant and striking enough to actually make it as an actress with her penny-red hair and sharp, feline features. Mostly I’d thought of her as far too smart to ever fall for this man-in-crisis bullshit. Oh, I was an idiot. But forget about Zayna for the moment. “So Bobby never told you anything about this? He never hinted to you that he was unhappy with . . . with the marriage?” That felt easier than saying, “with me.”
“Are you f*cking nuts? I wouldn’t keep something like that from you.” Olive cocked her head and did this thing she did with her lips, like she was blowing a smoke ring, even though she’d quit smoking years ago. The smoke ring was her unspoken way of saying, I think that what you just said was full of shit. “He may be my brother, but you’re my best friend, Cami. You were my sister long before you married him.” She set down her wineglass with a clink. “That jackass is going to make me tell our mother, the damn baby. For Christ’s sake, is he just going to let everyone show up here for the party? Shit. He doesn’t deserve a damn party.”
I agreed wholeheartedly.
Olive paced the kitchen. Her ring caught the light and sent sparkles across one wall.
“Your ring. Let me see it.”
She hid her left hand with her right. “I feel bad . . . under the circumstances . . .”
“Don’t be silly. You have something monumental to celebrate. Your happiness doesn’t mean you care about me any less. Now let me see the damn ring.”
She showed me. “It was so perfect. He actually got down on one knee at Fountain Square.”
“And I take it you said yes?”
She beamed. “When we got back to the room at the bed-and-breakfast, there was champagne and roses. He thought of everything. He made it wonderful.”
She slid down on the floor, her back to the cupboards. She patted the floor beside her, but Max moved into the place first, so I sat on the other side, my head on her shoulder. We looked up at the glasses we’d left on the counter. Neither of us had the energy to retrieve them.
We sat that way for several minutes before she said, “I would do anything for you, Cami. What do you need most right now?”
“I need to sleep. I can’t sleep. I’m a zombie.”
“I can remedy that.” Olive stood, then held out her hand and hauled me up. She directed me into a hot shower. When I emerged, she had lotion ready and warm. I crawled into bed and lay on my stomach. Olive massaged my neck and shoulders with her miraculous hands. She expressed dismay over my wounded arm and put her hands on it in a magical way, soothing it better than any painkiller or ice.
Olive kneaded the bruised tenderness in my muscles, working them loose and fluid again. Before long I drooled. And blinked. Unable to hold my eyes open, I drifted off into blissful sleep.
I WOKE UP LATER TO ANXIOUS SORROW AND A RACING heart. I was buried under quilts and blankets, Gingersnap sprawled on my chest, snoring her slightly fishy breath into my face.
It was nearly 1 a.m. My massage had to have been around 7:30 or so. This was the longest I’d slept since Bobby walked out. I got up and dressed. Gingersnap stayed in bed, but Max followed me as I stood in Gabriella’s doorway listening to her deep, sleeping breaths. I felt guilty for missing her return, missing the chance to wish her good-night.
I thought about going to the barn but was stopped by a childhood memory of standing in the shadows, watching my mother, in her nightgown, weeping in the barn lot.
You’re not like her. You’re strong. You don’t need him.
I hadn’t eaten and was ravenous, but most of the containers in the fridge were full of food Bobby had made. Knowing it was melodramatic, I emptied every last one of them into the sink and forced the mess down the disposal with a wooden spoon. Pesto. Seafood risotto. His fried polenta I craved like a junkie every time I had my period. Some old rigatoni. I wouldn’t eat his food. I didn’t need anything from him.
That bastard left me. For a girl. The same age as Helen’s daughter, Holly, for God’s sake! I’d put up with his bitchy moodiness! I’d walked on eggshells around him! I’d offered to support him, and all the while he was f*cking a waitress? Okay, she was only a waitress at my suggestion, but that thought made me shove the food down the drain until the disposal’s motor groaned.
When I turned off the disposal I almost shrieked as someone rapped on the front door.
Max barked once, then stopped. He whirled his greeting dance.
It’s Bobby. Max wouldn’t bark at Bobby. Relief flooded through me. He had come back.
But when I stepped into the foyer, I saw Mimi. I wanted to run back down the hall, but she saw me. “Oh, Cami, doll, thank God. Open up.”
How long did I think I could avoid her? I was ashamed at how quickly my anger at Bobby fled when I thought he was on the porch. How pathetic.
Mimi hugged me. She knew. Bless Olive. She hadn’t taken long. Mimi smelled as she always did, of cigarettes and garlic, but it was not unpleasant. She stood on tiptoe to kiss my cheeks. “Oh, doll. I had to see you. I need you to tell me where my son of a bitch of a son is staying. The restaurant was already closed. If he won’t answer my calls, I’m going to hunt him down.”
God, I loved this crazy woman.
“Cam, doll, what did he do that was so awful? You’re a strong woman, but the longer he’s gone, the bigger the risk you take. You can’t work on things if he’s not here. Men are weak—”
I started as if I’d touched the electric tape (which I’d done more than once by accident).
“Mimi, Bobby left me. It was his decision to leave, not mine. He’s rented an apartment.”
Mimi’s eyes blazed. “Where is this apartment?” She looked like she might kill him.
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“I know the address.” Gabriella stepped into the room, making us both jump. Mimi hugged her. They swayed together, looking for a moment like they were dancing.
When they broke away, Gabriella picked up a piece of junk mail off our foyer table and scribbled down the address. When I saw it, goose bumps shivered across my back. Only blocks from Animal Kind. I’d pass Bobby’s apartment every day.
“Thank you, bella. Now go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.” Mimi looked at the address. “I’ll go right now.” I could picture Mimi pounding on Bobby’s door, ripping into him. Maybe Mimi would interrupt Bobby with Zayna. I felt more gleeful than I had in days. Mimi turned to me. “I’ll knock some sense into that head of his. Whatever problems you have, they belong here, in your home, not all over town.”
The glee fell away. “Mimi, he’s—he has someone else—”
She clucked. “That’s what men do, doll. You don’t have to forgive him. But he needs to be here. We can’t very well have the birthday party without the guest of honor.”
I didn’t know which was worse, my daughter hearing that her grandmother believed that all men were unfaithful, or that Mimi still thought I was hosting Bobby’s party. “Mimi. No. I am not hosting a party for a man who left me.”
Mimi puffed herself out like a rooster. My heart thumped. I’d seen this woman rant and scream, but she’d always been sweet as can be to me, saving me extra pignoli cookies, not letting me do any little chore when I was pregnant, always patting my cheek and saying, “You’re so good to my boy.” If I was about to go face to face with Mimi Binardi, then bring it on.
But Mimi only looked flustered and, suddenly, very old. She folded up the piece of paper in her hand. “You kids. Nothing but extremes! I’ll talk to him. Your husband will come home.”
I didn’t believe her. But I didn’t correct her.
When Mimi was gone, Gabriella said, “I told you you were kick-ass.”
“You’re the one who gave her the address.”
She grinned. “Was that evil?”
I considered this and admitted, “Yes.”
“He deserved it,” she said, the sudden venom in her voice surprising me. I wasn’t sure what to say. I agreed—hell, yes, he deserved it!—but felt I shouldn’t in front of her.
I realized I still held the wooden spoon I’d used to shove Bobby’s food down the disposal. I pointed it at her. “Not all men cheat.”
“I know.”
“Not all women take it.”
“I know. Why are you holding a spoon?”
I looked down at it. “Because I am kick-ass.” I broke the wooden spoon across my knee.
Gabriella shook her head. “No. Now you’re just weird.”
In spite of the good start, I got no more sleep that night.