What the Dog Ate (21 page)

She thought for a moment and
continued, “What does make me feel old, though, is when I think about any one
individual body part. Like, for instance, my thighs. For Pete’s sake, between
them they’re eighty-four.”
Did I just say “between my
thighs” to my date? Quick. Come up with a less titillating body part
...
“Or, say, my spleen. I think, ‘holy cow, my spleen is forty-one.’ What if you
found a spleen that had been, I don’t know, kept in a jar in your office for
forty-one
years? That’s a helluva long time.”

“But your cells are constantly
regenerating themselves, so your spleen is, in fact, only about two weeks old.”

“Huh. Well, here’s to regenerating
ourselves.” She held up her glass, then leaned back as the waiter served their
food. After taking a bite, she said. “So, I was hoping Golden Boy Benatti could
give me some career advice; help me figure out what to be when I grow up.”

Brian groaned. “I was hoping you
hadn’t read that.”

“Why? It was a great article.”

“It was excessive.”

“Did you or did you not graduate
from college very young?”

“Not that young. I was hardly a boy
genius. I skipped kindergarten because I could already read. In high school, I
took AP classes and tested out of some GE courses. In college, I piled on the
units and finished in three years. I did my Masters right after so I had that
by twenty-three, which is
not
that young. I mean,
you hear about teenagers getting their Masters degrees.”

“All right, then, what about your
huge success at that museum in London?”

“Again, there was a bit of hype in
that article. You can’t believe everything you read.” He agreed that, yes, the
museum was new and unknown when he started, but said he wouldn’t label it a
“huge” success. “It was making money, but not because I’m this Midas of modern
art. It all started with one particular exhibit.”

She looked at his long fingers.
Hmmm, Midas... Touch...
She snapped out of it as he told a
story of falling in love with an artist’s work at a gallery. When Brian looked
into exhibiting the work, he found out the man was serving a life term for a
murder he swore he didn’t commit.

“Wow.” She set her fork down and
leaned in.

“When the museum got interested in
him, so did the media. This non-profit group picked up his case—one of those
groups that works to free wrongly convicted people. They uncovered some new
evidence, and the guy was exonerated. It was big news. Tons of free publicity;
everybody wanted to see his work. He does these gorgeous mixed media pieces. I
have one at my place; I’ll show it to you sometime.”

She smiled at the subtle
implication that there would be more dates in their future and said, “So, you
not only made the museum profitable, you saved this poor guy’s life?”

“No, not
me
.
The group, they saved him.”

“I think you’re being way too
modest, Golden Boy. Think I’ll start calling you GB.”

“Please don’t. I only told you to
show it was a fluke, this so-called ‘huge’ success.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me
the museum in Philadelphia was a fluke as well?”

“They didn’t print everything I
said.” He dragged his hand down the side of his face. “It’s embarrassing. My
mother got me in the door. She’s friends with a museum board member.”

“Maybe they interviewed you as a
favor to her, but they wouldn’t give you the job if you didn’t deserve it. And
the museum was on the verge of closing before you took over, right?”

“That was just pure mismanagement.
I didn’t do anything your average first-year business student couldn’t have
done.”

“Man, you don’t cut yourself much
slack.” She wiped her mouth, set down her napkin, and decided continuing to be
open was the way to go. “But, I’m glad you told me all that. I have to admit, I
was feeling kind of intimidated by you.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“Well, I’m no Golden Boy. I’m
just... me.” Although thinning, his ash-blonde hair glowed under the amber
glass shaded lamp that hung over the table. The light warmed the smooth apples
of his cheeks above his eight o’clock shadow. She thought he was right about
being “no boy,” but he was definitely golden.

He pointed at her empty glass, “How
about another?”

“Better not.”
Or
I’ll be in your lap
. “I’ve got to drive home. I’m a cheap date, aren’t
I?”

“Another thing to like about you.”

Brian picked up the check, waving
off Maggie’s attempt to split it with him, and they went out into the night.
The temperature had dropped, along with the sun. Maggie shivered in her
sleeveless dress and Brian slipped off his jacket and draped it around her
shoulders.
How gallant
. It was deliciously warm from
his body heat.

“I could walk you back to your
car,” Brian said. “Or we could go to my condo and see that artist’s work. I’m
just a few blocks from here.”

Kona would go;
but he’s a slut. OK, pros: possibly replace warm jacket around me with warm
arms. Hmmmm
. She thought how wonderful it would feel just to be held.
Cons: Totally not ready for anything more than that. And mustn’t
appear too easy on first official date.
The cons won. “I should head
home. Maybe you could show me some other time.”

“I’ll look forward to that.”

They walked to her car, discussing
places he’d been to so far in San Diego. He admitted he hadn’t been to the zoo
yet, adding that he hadn’t been to any zoo since he was a kid.

She resisted the urge to say, “You
mean last year?” and instead said, “San Diego’s is the best.” They reached her
car. “We could go on Sunday, if you’re not doing anything.”

“That’s sounds great.”

He opened her door for her. She was
tempted to linger and wait for a kiss, but decided a first kiss in the parking
lot was not how she’d imagined it. She reluctantly handed back his jacket and
got into the Honda. She lowered the window.

“We could go around one,” she said.
“Maybe grab dinner there and stay until closing.”

She gave him her home number. His
hand rested on the door frame and he tapped it three times. Was he figuring out
the logistics of kissing her while she was in the car and he stood beside it?
It wasn’t going to work.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said.
“I’ll see you Sunday.”

“See you then.” He rapped the car a
final time, then waved as she drove off.

~~~

Sunday, Brian was on her doorstep
at the agreed time, holding a plant wrapped in pink cellophane. She noticed he
backed up a step and held the pot protectively over his crotch when Kona ran to
say hello. Kona was good and stayed down while Brian patted his head.

“I brought you a begonia.” He was
wearing perfect khakis and a pale blue Oxford shirt.

A bit much for
the zoo, but he looks handsome
.

“Thanks. How sweet.” She wondered
how he knew she preferred the practical gift of a living plant over
dead-in-a-week cut flowers. She put the pot in the kitchen, and they headed
out.

As she got into his silver Lexus,
she smoothed her skirt. She spotted a small scuff on her sandal. She looked at
Brian as she directed him toward the zoo. He was so perfect and wrinkle free.
I’d like to muss him up a little, she thought, then blushed and looked out the
window.

At the zoo, they hit all her
favorite animals: the hippos, gliding through the water like obese trapeze
artists; the polar bears, asleep but still fascinating to watch, their huge
paws twitching as they dreamt of chasing who-knew-what, perhaps a sweaty
tourist; and the gorillas, strutting like bar bouncers. They ate dinner and
then set off again in the dusky light.

Brian pointed out a sign with an
arrow for the elephant exhibit. He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go see the
elephants. They’re my favorite.”

She wondered if he would drop her
hand after the change in direction was complete, but he continued to hold it,
lacing his fingers through hers. His hands were soft and warm, and he stroked
the back of her hand with his thumb. Her nerve endings tingled like lit
sparklers.

As they walked, they noticed a
strange bleating sound coming at semi-regular intervals from beyond the
elephants’ habitat.

“Something’s going on over there.”
She tugged his arm. “Let’s go see.”

They passed the elephants,
gamboling along like old ladies in baggy hose, and saw the noises had attracted
a small crowd. Groups in twos and threes gathered along the pen’s railing.

“Ohmygosh... is that... a tapir
ménage à trois
?” Maggie said as they drew closer.

Three tapirs, something like an odd
mix of a long-legged panda and an ant-eater with a truncated trunk, were
humping in a conga line across their enclosure. The female at the front of the
line was the source of the intermittent honking. She appeared to be trying to
get away from the attentions of the large male that had mounted her, who
continued to walk and thrust his way along behind her, his front feet resting
on her back. The third tapir appeared to want to join in the fun. It walked
along on its back legs, its forefeet up on the large male.

Brian bit his lip, and Maggie put
her hand over her mouth.

“Three? How does that work with tapirs?”
Maggie asked.

“Someone in that threesome is
confused. Is that a male on the end or a female?” Brian bent to try to check
out the apparatus on the last tapir in line. They reached the railing and
leaned against it, as a zoo employee whirred up behind them in a camouflage
golf cart.

“Oh, interesting,” she said,
standing tiptoe on the cart’s runner for a better view.

“What’s going on in there?” Maggie
asked. “Besides the obvious.” The conga line stopped and the third tapir
dropped off the back. It hadn’t lost interest in the proceedings, however, and
stuck its almost prehensile nose in between the legs of the male, an unwelcome
move, judging by the honking sounds he added to the bleating of the female at
the front.

“That’s a male and two females,”
the woman answered.

“Every male tapir’s fantasy,”
Maggie whispered to Brian.

He laughed as the employee went on,
unabashedly keeping her eyes locked on the large male that continued humping
the female in vociferous fashion. “That’s a five-year-old-male. The females are
four and twenty-six. I heard them, so rushed over here to see who he’s
interested in.”

“And, who is the lucky lady?” Brian
asked.

“It’s the twenty-six-year old.”

Huh
.
Maggie kept her eyes on the zookeeper who continued on, “She doesn’t look too
impressed.” Maggie looked back at the animals. The older female was lying down,
apparently to ward off further advances from the male, who continued to try to
scale her. He thrust ineffectually at her side. The smaller female stood
immobile watching them, as if dumbstruck.

“Looks like he hasn’t quite got
this figured out,” the woman said. “And the little girl’s not too sure what’s
going on either. Oh well, they’ll work it out eventually.” She jumped in her
cart and took off again.

“Let’s leave them alone.” Maggie
said.

They went and watched the elephants
for a few minutes. Maggie, lost in thought, wondered if it was a bad sign that,
although the young tapir seemed to prefer the older female, he clearly did not
know what he was doing.

Afterwards, back at her house,
Maggie invited Brian in for a drink. She wasn’t ready for the evening to end
yet, but hoped he wouldn’t see the offer as an invitation to try any
young-tapir-in-lust moves.

Trying to make her intentions
clear, she told him, “It will have to be a quick one though... I mean, a quick
drink...” She hoped he couldn’t see her cheeks flush pink under the car’s
yellowy dome light. “I have to get up early for work tomorrow.”

“Me too. I promise I won’t stay
long.”

They went in and received a warm
welcome from Kona. Maggie was relieved when he didn’t put his nose, or front
feet, into Brian’s crotch. She fed Kona, apologizing to him for the late hour,
and then put him out back. Then she and Brian settled on a bottle of pinot noir
and upon the sofa. Maggie worked herself into the corner of the couch and
tucked her feet up under her. She thought it would be a safe distance. Brian
relaxed in the middle of the couch, his arm along the back of the overstuffed
cushion, his legs crossed in front of him.

He complimented her charming
Craftsman-style house and said he thought it would sell in a heartbeat.

She wasn’t so sure. Even though
she, Kevin and Russell (well, mostly Kevin and Russell) had done a lot of work,
the market had cooled. She had no idea how long it might take to sell. He asked
what her plans were once it did. She told him she leaned toward renting. She
wasn’t ready to buy another house, especially if she still hadn’t figured out
what her dream job was going to be and where she might be working.

When he finished his wine, he stood
up to go and she walked him to the door.

“Thanks for a great time. I saw
some things tonight I’ve never seen before.” He raised his eyebrows for
emphasis.

Maggie giggled, “I have to confess,
I almost always see animals doing it at the zoo.”

“Oh, that’s why you enjoy it so
much.”

“It can be pretty entertaining. You
should see the giant tortoises doing it.” Her eyes darted up to an image
playing in her mind and she laughed. “It’s very... methodical.”

When she looked back, Brian wasn’t
laughing. In fact, he was rather serious. She frowned, thinking, I hope he
doesn’t think I get my kicks watching animals do it.

“You are so beautiful,” he
whispered. He pulled her to him and kissed her.

She kissed him back; but then
unbidden images rushed in: kissing Dave goodbye each morning as they left for
work; laughing as they rolled across the living room rug in a tickle fight and
Kona tried to join in; Dave carrying her across the threshold when they first
moved in.