Love is a Four-Letter Word (16 page)

“Well, here we are.”

The park is really the playground at St. Patrick’s Catholic school, or St. Paddy’s as it’s known around here. It is definitely the nicest park in the city. Not only does it have the usual climber and swing set, but it also has a set of teeter-totters, a tube slide, a tire swing, and the only merry-go-round in town. Plus the whole thing is bordered by tall pine trees that block out the sight of any houses. It feels like you’re inside a fortress, a secret fortress of fun. It definitely beats the playground at Ferndale.

I guess dog lovers like the fact that the playground is surrounded by trees, too. It means they can let their dogs off their leashes and not worry too much about bothering the people who live behind St. Paddy’s, although there aren’t too many dogs around at this time of night.

“Let’s check the border first,” Michael suggests. “I’ll go to the far side and you start here.”

So we split up, searching in and among the trees. Michael whistles and I call Suzy’s name, slapping my thighs and wishing I had brought treats or something to entice her with. I hear barking a few times, but it’s always some dog behind the school, in a yard nearby. My heart leaps every time I hear barking, only to let be let down again and again.

When we meet in the middle, Michael smiles hopefully at me. “Any sign of her?”

“No,” I grumble.

Michael frowns. “We have to think like Suzy. Where would you go if you were her?”

“Suzy doesn’t think all that much,” I say.

I make my way toward the merry-go-round, dragging my feet through the dust, the sleeves of Mrs. Larson’s ugly sweater hanging almost to my knees. It smells like old lady and makes my nose itch, but at least I’m warm.

I sit with a thump, the merry-go-round making a satisfying clang that echoes in the now empty park. Michael joins me and does his best to cheer me up. “There has to be something we’re missing. Dogs are motivated by rewards, like food or attention.”

“I fed her ten minutes before she escaped,” I point out.

“Maybe there was another dog or a rabbit or something that got her attention outside,” Michael suggests.

“Okay, so then what?”

“I don’t know,” Michael admits. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

I heave another big sigh and lay on my back in my quarter of the merry-go-round. The stars are starting to come out of hiding. I try to pick out one of the constellations, but I’m having trouble concentrating. I know I should be thinking about Suzy, and I am, but I’m also thinking about Michael, who has laid back on the other side of the merry-go-round and now our heads are almost touching.

“Do you know anything about constellations?” Michael asks.

“Not really, do you?”

“Sure!” Michael props himself up by his elbow and starts
pointing things out to me. “See there? That’s the Big Dipper. Once you find that you can find anything.” Michael rattles off the history of the different constellations, and I zone out, enjoying the sound of his voice. “What’s your astrological sign?” he asks.

“Why? Do you believe all that stuff about astrology?”

“No,” Michael sounds indignant. “I was just going to point out your constellation for you.”

“Aries.”

“It’s hard to see Aries in the spring.”

“How come?”

“That’s when it’s closest to the sun.”

“What sign are you?” I ask. I feel dumb the second the words come out of my mouth. That sounds like a pickup line Denise would use.

“Virgo. It’s easier to see it when it’s really late, like midnight.”

“I should probably be home by then,” I say.

“Yeah, me too,” Michael says. He sounds disappointed.

For a moment I wonder if he’s going to get up and say it’s time to leave. I don’t want to leave yet, and not just because sudden death might be waiting for me at home. I need to stall him. “How did you learn to pick out the constellations?”

“I have a telescope and some books at home.”

“Cool.”

Michael twists around to look me right in the eye, like he doesn’t believe me. “Really?”

“Really,” I say, a little offended. “I like astronomy. I even have those glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling and everything.” I don’t mention that they no longer work.

Michael smiles and it feels like I swallowed a whole box of Pop Rocks that are exploding all over my body. I think
I could be happy for the rest of my life if only he would continue to smile at me like that. Oh how I wish I wasn’t wearing an old lady sweater with ducks on it that reeks of baby powder.

“Do you ever read the horoscopes in the paper?” I ask.

“Maybe once in a while, out of curiosity.”

“Me, too,” I admit. “Sometimes they’re pretty accurate.”

“That’s kind of weird.”

“It is. What time is it?” I ask.

Michael consults his watch. “Almost nine. I should probably head home.”

“Me, too” I sigh.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Michael asks. I do, but there is no reason why he should have to witness the smackdown that I’m sure is about to come.

“No, it’s okay,” I lie.

“I’ll walk with you,” Michael offers.

We check at Doug’s house one more time before heading back to my place, just in case Suzy decided to come home. No such luck. At least this time I remember to lock up behind me. I already lost Doug’s dog. The last thing I need is for his house to be robbed, too.

“That old man said she was a runner, right?” Michael says.

“Yeah.”

“So she must get out all the time. Doug is probably used to it.”

“Maybe,” I say, but I am not convinced.

“And she has ID tags, so even if she gets picked up by the pound, they’d still have a way to contact Doug. Even if the worst happens and she gets hit by a car, it wouldn’t be your fault. You can’t help it if it’s in the dog’s nature to run away. Besides, it’s not like you were driving the car.”

In my worst nightmares, I had never imagined Suzy being hit by a car. I’m starting to feel woozy. I know Michael is trying to make me feel better, but it’s not working. I’ve been in Doug’s bedroom, the only photo he has displayed is of Suzy. If she does end up dead on my watch, he’s not likely to forgive me. And neither is my mother.

In my desperation I consider running away, too. Then everyone would be so worried about me that no one would
think about the dog. In a perfect world I would spend the night searching and arrive on the doorstep, rumpled but alive, with Suzy in my arms. I would even be willing to make something up about how the dog found me and led me home. Then Suzy would be the hero, I would be alive, and everyone would be happy. Of course there are more than a few flaws in this plan. Anyone who has spent any time with Suzy would not believe her to be capable of rescue. She can barely fetch.

“Looks like they’re home,” Michael says. The lights are on in the kitchen and Doug’s little red sports car is parked in the driveway. Time to face the music.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he asks again.

“It might be nice to have a witness in case one of them tries to kill me,” I say.

Michael looks uncomfortable.

“I’m kidding,” I confess. “But, if you’re sure you don’t need to head home —”

Michael shakes his head. “I don’t have to be home yet. Come on. We might as well get this over with.”

It takes an unbelievably short amount of time to walk from the sidewalk to the door. I cast a glance at Benji’s house, but it’s completely dark. No rescue there.

“Here goes nothing,” I say, partially to myself, partially to Michael.

I go to turn my key in the lock but the door swings open and suddenly Doug is there, blotting out the light with his enormous bulk.

“Clarissa! Where’ve you been?” Before I can answer, he continues, “Well get in here, we’ve been waiting for you.” Doug spots Michael and ushers him in, too. “The more the
merrier. It’s a party in here!” And then he throws his head back and crows like a rooster.

At my side, Michael whispers, “Is he always like that?”

I shake my head. “No.”

In the living room I can hear Mom and Denise laughing over an old record I haven’t heard in ages. I forget all about being terrified or guilty. “What’s going on?” I demand.

Doug grins at me, eyes shining. He looks insanely happy. Unhinged, even. “What’s a nine-letter word for the best day of your life?” he asks.

“Christmas?” Michael guesses.

“No,” I say. “Remission.”

The living room is full of light and music. There’s only five of us but it feels like more. Mom keeps pulling out albums she hasn’t heard in ages and putting them on the record player. The record only plays for a few songs before she finds another album. She stops the record mid-song so she can replace it with the next one. Each song is the kind of song you’ve heard on the radio your entire life — you don’t know what it’s called, but somehow you know all the lyrics. Even Michael nods his head and sings along.

Doug produces half a cheesecake in a flimsy white box, left over from his dinner with Mom, and we attack it with forks, forgoing plates altogether. I manage to find a few cans of root beer for Michael and me while the adults open the bottle of wine my mom bought especially for this occasion.

Remission
. I’ve been saying it to myself for months and now I can finally say the word out loud. “Remission.”

The dreamy look slips from Mom’s face. “What did you say?”

“Remission,” I repeat, this time a little louder. “Remission, remission!”

Mom sits next to me on the couch, placing a hand firmly on my knee. “Clarissa, the doctor didn’t say ‘remission.’”

The cheesecake forms a solid lump in my stomach. “But … I thought — Doug said …”

Mom frowns at Doug, who looks sheepish. I’ve never seen her send anything but a smile in his direction before. That’s when I know she’s serious. “The doctor said that at this point, I’m cancer-free,” she explains. “Doug should have been clearer.”

I don’t understand. How is being cancer-free different from remission? “Isn’t that the same thing?” I ask.

“Not exactly.”

“So you could get sick again?”

“I could. But I’m not planning to.” Mom winks at me.

Just when I thought the coast was clear, another cloud moves over the horizon. “Then what’s the point?” I say.

Mom thinks before responding. “The point is, anyone can get sick at any time. Right now I’m healthy. That’s good enough for me.”

I search Mom’s face for any sign that she’s pretending to be strong for my sake, but all I see is relief — honest-to-goodness relief. She isn’t hiding anything from me and if cancer-free is good enough for her, then it should be good enough for me. Nothing is ever sure in life, I know that now. You never know when people will get sick or when they will take offense at something you did. You can do everything right and still things will go wrong. Life is full of surprises. But not all surprises are bad.

“Okay,” I say.

Mom leans in for a bone-crushing hug. Across the room,
Denise laughs and cries and sloshes her drink all over the couch and herself. But Mom is too giddy to notice. She looks lit from within, as if a hundred tiny candles are flickering under her skin. She gets up and starts calling people to let them know the good news. She holds the phone out and says, “Say hi, everyone!” and dutifully, we respond, “Hi everyone!” and then burst into fresh laughter. I smile so hard it feels like my cheeks are going to split, but I can’t stop.

If anyone was to look in on us right now they would think we were a group of crazy people, and that’s just how I feel, crazy-happy. I hold onto this feeling as long as I can, but things wind down and I can’t keep putting off my talk with Doug. I feel like I’m holding onto a full balloon and the air is rushing out, and I’m about to be flung around the room.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks.

“I still have to tell him,” I confess, nodding at Doug who is doing an impression of the snooty waiter he and Mom had at the restaurant. Denise laughs so hard she snorts. I hope wine doesn’t come out of her nose.

Michael nods gravely. “That sucks,” he sympathizes. “But at least he’s in a good mood.”

“I guess,” I sigh.

“Good luck,” Michael says gravely.

I wait for the impression to be over and then I follow Doug into the kitchen, where he fills the empty ice trays with fresh water. “Doug, I have to tell you something.”

“You look serious.”

I swallow before answering. “It is serious.”

“Okay, shoot.” Doug turns off the tap, sets the trays down, and tries to look all solemn and sober, but I can tell by the faraway look in his eyes and the smile that keeps trying
to break out across his face that he’s still thinking about my mom and how she’s out of the dark and he’s probably planning the rest of their lives in his head. Or maybe that’s something only girls do.

I lead him over to the kitchen table and we sit down. “It’s about Suzy,” I begin.

“Suzy Q! How is the little rascal? Did she give you any trouble?”

My throat is dry, but my root beer is nowhere to be found. “Well, the thing is, I fed her and everything, but my back was turned for a minute and she sort of … escaped. I didn’t know she was a runner, so I didn’t think about checking the screen door.”

To my surprise, Doug slaps his thigh and laughs. “That rascal! I should have warned you, she’ll do anything to get out of the house. Did you find her at the Larsons’?”

“Well I checked, but she wasn’t there.” I falter and look over at Michael for strength. He is sitting on the edge of the couch clutching his root beer and smiling politely as Denise yammers on about something. He catches my eye and smiles. I take a deep breath. “The thing is, I couldn’t find her. Michael and I looked everywhere. She’s gone.” I hold my breath and wait for the axe to fall.

Doug looks thoughtful. “When did this happen?” he asks.

“Around seven-thirty? Maybe eight?”

Doug checks his watch. “I bet you she’s crying at my side door this very minute.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure of it. She never goes far and she always comes back.” Doug stands. “I should probably go let her in.”

“So, you’re not mad?”

“Heck, no! If I’m mad at anyone, it’s myself. I should have told you she would try to sneak out on you. And now you’ve been running around looking for her, probably worrying yourself sick.”

I shrug, even though I want to scream, “Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing!” I ask, “What if she isn’t there?”

“She will be,” Doug says, winking. “I’ll bet you the last piece of that raspberry cheesecake.”

“But what if she isn’t?” I insist.

“If she isn’t, I will call the pound tomorrow and make some flyers with her silly little mug on it and someone will find her and return her. There aren’t a lot of people who would put up with a Tasmanian devil like her.”

I’m not convinced that Doug is thinking this through completely. “And what if nobody brings her in?”

Doug puts his hand on my shoulder and looks me right in the eye. When he speaks, his voice is low and serious. “Clarissa, I had the most amazing experience in that doctor’s office with your mother today. Sometimes we forget what a gift life is. Today, I was reminded of that. There are some things that are worth worrying about, and some things that aren’t. I’m sure Suzy is at my door right now, flopping that little tail of hers in the dirt. I want you to come with me so I can prove it to you, and you won’t worry your pretty little head about it anymore.”

“Okay,” I agree.

Doug nods his head at Michael, who looks uncomfortable as Denise examines his nail beds. “Go rescue our pal Mikey over there. He can come with us and then I’ll drive him home.”