Page 49 of Maybe in Another Life

We’ve said it many times to each other, but this time, this particular time, I can feel it in my chest.

“All right, let me go break the news to your mother.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I say, putting my hands to my face. I feel terrible.

“Don’t be. She’s tougher than she realizes sometimes. And she just wants what’s best for you.”

He slips out into the hallway. Momentarily alone, I find myself tense and tearful.

Soon the door opens, and my parents come in. My mom can’t say anything. She just looks at me and runs to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“We’re gonna go,” she says.

“OK,” I say.

“I love you,” she says. “I love you so much. The day you were born, I cried for six hours straight, because I had never loved anyone that much in my life. And I never stopped. OK? I never stopped.”

“I know, Mom. I love you, too.”

She wipes her tears, squeezes my hand, and lets my father hug me.

“I’m proud of you,” he says. “Proud of the person you are.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

And then that’s it. They walk to the door.

My dad turns back to me. “Oh,” he says, “I almost forgot.”

He picks up a box he left on the counter when he walked in. He hands it over to me.

I open it. It’s a cinnamon roll from Primo’s. The glaze is stuck to the box, and the dough has started to unravel.

“You remembered,” I say. It’s such a thoughtful gift, such a tender gesture, that I know I’m going to start crying again if he doesn’t leave this minute.

He winks at me. “I’d never forget a thing like that.”

And then he’s gone out the door, to join my mother and sister. They’ll take a cab to LAX and then fly across the country, over the Atlantic, and land at Heathrow.

And I’ll stay here.

And I can honestly say that until this moment, I never realized how much my parents have always, always loved me.

Since Ethan left for work, I’ve been sitting here with Charlemagne trying to figure out what vet to take her to and what bus route to use.

I puked again this morning, shortly after he left. I was feeling sort of queasy when I woke up, and then I thought I felt better, so I opened his fridge to see if there was anything for breakfast. I picked up a package of bacon, and the smell made me sick to my stomach. I threw up and ended up feeling much better. Suddenly, I was starving, which was when I remembered the cinnamon rolls.

I grabbed one for me and one for Charlemagne, but I thought better of it. She’s a little thing, after all. So I ripped hers in half, giving one half to her on the floor and adding the other to my plate. I wolfed all of it down in three big bites. Then I ate another one.

In college, during the few times I got so drunk I puked, I always immediately felt hungry afterward. It was as if my body had gotten rid of everything bad and wanted to replace it with something delicious. I’d get up in the morning, go to Dunkin’ Donuts, and inhale a cinnamon cake doughnut, the closest thing they had to what I wanted. Some things don’t change, I guess.

Now Charlemagne and I are on the couch. She’s cuddled up in my lap as I’m leaning over her, trying to figure out if dogs are allowed on public buses. I don’t see anything definitive on the Web site, so I close my computer and decide just to take on the day and see where it leads me. If they won’t let her on the bus, I’ll figure something out.

I lock Ethan’s apartment door and head outside. First things first. Charlemagne needs a collar and a leash if I’m going to get her across town. I walk to Target, which isn’t all that far from Ethan’s place. I have Charlemagne bundled in my arms. I expect someone to stop me here in the store, but no one even bats an eyelash. I had this whole plan to claim she was a service animal, but it isn’t necessary. I grab a collar and a leash and head to the register. The cashier looks at me sideways but doesn’t say anything. I act as if it’s perfectly normal to be holding a dog in a store. In general, I find that when you are doing something you are not supposed to be doing, the best course of action is to act as if you are absolutely supposed to be doing it.

Once I put a collar on her and attach the leash, I decide to go with the same tactic on the bus. I act confident as I wait for the bus to arrive. When it does, I get on during a rush of people, hoping this will distract the bus driver.

No such luck.

---