Love Is Pink! (9 page)

19

I
was dreaming of Valentin—a nice, chaste dream. It was actually kind of strange, when I think about it. Valentin was wearing a coarse wool sweater with a Norwegian pattern—something he’d never wear in real life. I could definitely feel his beard stubble, yet Valentin never had beard stubble. He placed a great deal of importance on shaving twice a day.

The deafening clamor of “Run Run Rudolph” woke me
.
Music, but of the worst sort. It sounded like a bunch of teenagers were banging crappy instruments in a garage.

I sat up in bed and looked at the alarm clock, still drunk with sleep. Ten after five. About the same time I might normally come home from a party, drink another glass of champagne, maybe nibble a shrimp sandwich, and then snuggle up in a freshly fluffed-up down bed until at least 2:00 p.m.

But I’m digressing.

I looked for the “Off” button, couldn’t find it, and finally pulled the plug out of the wall.

Quiet.

I quickly dressed, and then woke up David and Emma, who were sleeping in the canopy bed. The little imp woke right up, hugged me, and tried to tickle me.

I let her chase me around the suite for a little while to make her happy. Once David got up and dressed, we were ready to leave.

First, though, I completely plundered the minibar. I even took the schnapps. (Not that I’d ever be seen drinking something so déclassé in public, of course.)

Knowing that Valentin’s queen’s magic credit card would cover everything, I also stuffed the clean towels into our suitcases, right next to the bathrobes. I didn’t even leave the soap. My bag looked as though it would burst, but when it came to high-end products, it could always hold a few more.

David was acting somewhat distant this morning, and I tried not to let it bother me.

We rode down in the elevator, snuck quickly past the unstaffed front desk, and again found ourselves in the middle of a bitterly cold, moonlit winter night.

“Where did you park the Citroën?” I asked. Breaths of smoke rose up with every word I said.

“If I’d parked in front of the hotel, they’d immediately have towed it, so I drove it to the grounds of a nearby construction company. I’m very familiar with the way construction companies operate. The parking spaces are only used during the day. At night, it makes no difference who parks there.”

“Well, as long as you’re sure about that,” I said.

David pointed the way. He dragged my suitcase and carried his duffel bag. Emma hopped up and down next to me like she was on a trampoline. We crossed the street, walked down a private road, and stood in front of a two-meter-tall steel gate.

David let go of my suitcase and scratched his head.

“What is it?” I asked.

He pointed to the barrier. “That wasn’t there last night.”

“Of course not, you idiot,” I said. “It’s the company driveway. Naturally, it’s open during the day. At night no one comes, and then the
y . . .
” I paused to make a sliding motion with my hand before concluding, “Then they shut it.”

“Shit!” David swore.

“Cover your ears, Emma,” I said. She immediately pressed her hands to her head and chanted, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“We need to get in there,” I said. “We have to get the car, and we have to be out of here by six—at the latest. That’s when the hotel’s early shift starts, and they review the invoices and credit card charges from the day before. If that happens, we’re—”

“Screwed,” David said.

“Screwed,” Emma sang out. “We’re screwed, screwed—shit, we’re screwed!”

“I’m going to climb over it.” David dropped his duffel bag and prepared to climb over the steely obstacle before us.

“It’s too high. You’ll never make it,” I said.

He jumped, clutched the top corner, and pulled himself up with a groan. He almost succeeded, but he lost his footing and slipped slowly and mercilessly to the ground.

“What is this?” Emma said to me while tugging at my jacket.

“Let go, Emma,” I answered shortly. “Not now. I need to help your papa.”

“It might work with a ladder,” David said, staring up at it with a skeptical look.

“What’s this button here for?” asked Emma.

“Don’t touch anything!” I hissed, but it was already too late.

The button made a click when Emma pushed it. Then we heard a buzz, and the loud noise of an electric motor.

“For heaven’s sake,” I said. “Make it stop. You’ll wake up the entire neighborhood.” That’s when I realized that the gate was sliding open.

Emma’s little hand pushed the button again. The motor stopped. The gate had opened enough for a person to slip through it.

“Clever child!” David said proudly. “We should have figured there’d be a gadget like that. I’ll go in and get the car. When you see the headlights, open the door completely.” He’d already begun to push himself through the gap.

“Be careful,” I warned him.

“What danger could there be now?” he said. “In the blink of an eye, I’ll be back with the car and we’ll continue our journey. Nothing can stop us.”

David disappeared into the lot. His steps crunched over the snow. I waited to hear the Citroën’s obligatory bang as it started. Instead, someone yelled, “Damn it!” And then again, “Damn it!” And then, “Open the gate, quick!”

Emma tried to follow the order, but she got flustered and couldn’t immediately find the button.

Through the opening, I saw David running toward us—he was practically flying. I don’t think I’d ever seen a person run that fast before. A dark shadow raced behind him. Metal clanged. A deep, angry bark cut through the night. Fractions of a second later, David squeezed through the gap and stooped next to us gasping for air.

On the other side of the gate, several meters away, a large black dog stood growling. His blood-shot eyes glowed in the moonlight. His lips were pulled back to show us his white fangs.

“That monster almost got me,” David panted.

“Hello, doggy!” Emma called, waving to the beast. “Why doesn’t he come to us?”

I moved closer to the gap to get a better view.

“He can’t,” I said. “It’s a junkyard dog. His chain is just long enough to reach the end of the property. He can’t get us if we stay outside.”

“As you may recall,” David said, sounding annoyed, “we can’t stay out here. We need to get in there and past the monster, so we can get the car, so that a certain someone—and I won’t mention any names—can have the pleasure of dining and dashing at her ex’s expense.”

“Ha!” I yelled, turning to face him. “Enough with the ex! I explained in detail yesterday that it’s all going to work out!”

“And you still believe that this morning?” he said.

“Yes, I do!”

We went back and forth for a few moments, so busy arguing that we forgot about Emma. When I finally looked for her again, I couldn’t see her.

“Emma?” I called out.

“In here!” Her voice came from behind me, inside the lot. I swung around and saw her approaching the dog.

“Oh, my God,” I said. Without thinking, I squeezed through the gap myself and ran toward her.

The growling grew louder. I wouldn’t reach her in time. In my head, I already saw the dog tearing Emma to pieces.

No! I couldn’t allow that to happen!

And since I couldn’t think of anything better, I simply screamed as loud as I could, “Sit! Now! Sit!”

The dog looked at me thoughtfully and sat.

Emma turned to me. “Look, Michelle! This dog is so sweet.”

“He’s not sweet!” I whispered. “He’ll eat you if you get any closer. Do. Not. Move.”

Emma put her hands on her hips. “Oh, you and your funny jokes!” She turned back to the dog and, too quickly for me to stop her, moved forward and began to pet him.

This time he would not spare her. This time he’d tear her to shreds.

But the dog whimpered.

Carefully, I stepped closer, grabbed Emma by the arm and pulled her out of the danger zone as quickly as possible.

The dog cocked his head, whined again, and raised his right paw.

“He’s sad and lonely,” Emma said. “Just like you were the first time I met you.”

Naturally, I found this infantile comparison absolutely inappropriate. But looking at the dog a little more closely, I noticed that he really didn’t look happy. In truth, he looked pitiful. I knelt down and tentatively began to pet his scruffy fur. He leaned into my hand. After a few moments, I let Emma pet him, too.

The dog grunted and wagged his tail.

“Hey! Are you crazy?” David called. He’d entered the yard now, too, and looked torn as to whether he should rush over to save us or keep his distance.

“There’s no problem here,” I said. “We’re all getting along marvelously. You get the car, and once you have, Emma will slip back out into the street and open the gate.”

David walked stiffly past us, careful not to make any eye contact with the dog. Once I heard him open the car door, I sent Emma outside. I stayed behind with the black junkyard dog.

“You’re ugly,” I told the canine.

He wagged his tail and raised his right paw, swinging it in my direction.

“You’re also huge!”

He wagged his tail even harder.

“Not to mention, you stink. And if you’re as sad as Emma thinks you are, I have to tell you—unfortunately, I can’t help you out.” I moved my head closer to his and whispered, “You’ve got to understand. I can barely even help myself.” The dog whimpered softly. I could see the fur underneath his spiked collar. It was matted and rubbed away in spots. It looked painful.

The gate opened. David drove through and braked right outside the yard. I gave the dog a farewell pat on his big head, stood up, and went to the car without looking back.

Emma had just gotten into the backseat, and I took my place in the passenger seat.

“I’ve stowed the luggage,” David said, “so we’re all set.”

“Then there’s nothing keeping us here,” I said as David stepped on the gas.

We took the private road to the end and turned onto the main street. In a matter of moments, we’d left the neighborhood behind us. Then I heard myself say, “Stop! Immediately!”

David shot me a questioning look. “Why?”

“Just do it,” I said.

He slammed on the brakes, and I jumped out of the car even before he’d idled.

“Where are you going?” David and Emma called after me in unison. But I had no time to answer them.

Minutes later, I returned and opened the back door of the Citroën. Sticking my head inside, I told Emma, “Scoot over. No questions.” My voice sounded very decisive even to my own ears.

The black dog jumped into the backseat in one swoop. No longer wearing the spiked collar, he instead sported a midnight-blue Dior scarf made of the finest cashmere.

Carefully, I closed the door, calmly sat back down in my seat, and said, “What are you waiting for, David? Let’s go. You kno
w . . .
” I pointed to my Cartier. “Tick-tock.”

20

D
avid drove divinely. No sharp braking or too-hard turns with him at the wheel. Even when he drove through built-up areas, we moved smoothly, as though we were gliding on tracks. Amazingly, the car did its part, too—the suspension system absorbed every bump in the road. Sure, the car looked like hell and would probably fall apart soon. But traveling through this winter landscape in it was a unique pleasure.

I wasn’t used to getting up as early as we had, and after a while, I lolled in my seat, enjoying the snowy scenery and allowing my thoughts wander. Pictures, faces, and shapes appeared in my mind. The last thing I imagined was simply a color—a bright, intense pink.

Then I fell asleep.

Later, my head slid against the window and I woke up, rested and ready to go.

“Did you sleep well?” David asked.

“Wonderfully.” I stretched. “How long was I out?”

“A solid hour.”

I turned around to check on Emma. She sat bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and was using my good hairbrush on the dog. She smiled at me mischievously. “He loves this. I’ve been brushing him for a really long time.”

“With that brush?” I asked.

“Yeah. It has so many soft little spikes.”

“Natural bristles,” I said. “But you’re right that the dog needs it. His fur was very scruffy.”

David cleared his throat. “What’s
your
dog’s name, by the way?”

“Why do you ask me that? I don’t have a dog. I have no place for something like that in my life.”

“Oh,” David said. “And who does this black monster that’s drooling all over Emma belong to?”

“Baby is a free being. He doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“
Baby
? Your dog’s name is
Baby
?”

“Again, he’s not
my
dog. But, yes, his name is Baby. He likes it.”

“Baby is hungry,” Emma said.

I turned back around. And, in fact, the dog was looking at me half-starved. He wasn’t the only one. Emma also had a wolfish look in her eyes.

“OK,” I said. “David, can you pull over?”

David and I got out on the side of the road and took all the minibar goodies out of my suitcase: chocolate bars, cookies, peanuts, chips, lemonade, juice, and water bottles. The schnapps was the only thing we scorned. We carried the loot into the Citroën and got back on the move.

David started his breakfast with a chocolate bar. Emma had peanuts. As for me, I began with granola cookies. And Baby loved the chips I gave him. We drank juice and cola. But we didn’t stick to one thing; instead we tried everything. And when we discovered that something was especially good, we let everyone else taste it—including Baby.

It soon looked like a garbage bag had exploded in the car. Countless wrappers lay all over the place.

“Papa,” said Emma as she shoved one of the last chocolate bars in her mouth. “How can you tell if you ate too much?”

“Well,” I answered for David, “you feel something like I do. Your stomach feels sick, and when you think of food, the
n . . .
” I held my hand in front of my mouth and simulated certain noises.

“I get the message,” David said. “It’s time to make a stop and stretch our legs.”

Before getting out, I made sure that Emma buttoned up her coat and put on her pom-pom hat. We attached the belt that David had been using with his jeans to Baby’s scarf. David didn’t need it, anyway—his pants looked perfect on him.

Outside, a flat, snow-covered field awaited us. The air was crisp and cold, and the sky was blue and cloudless, with the prettiest sunrays streaming down. Emma and Baby jumped around happily.

“Let’s walk a bit,” David said.

Emma grabbed my free hand, Baby pulled on the provisional leash, and we all stumbled through and around the field. We reached a spot with some random plants that seemed out of place. And then the ground beneath our feet changed. It was now hard and smooth.

“Where did we wind up?” I asked.

“It’s ice,” Emma exclaimed. “We could slide!”

I didn’t think that would be wise. But, despite that, I wound up giving Emma a demonstration when Baby pulled me onto the ice and I slipped and slid behind him. The pond was frozen solid, no question. Emma went crazy with joy, playing around on it. David seemed to enjoy it, too, even though he slipped many times and fell with a thud onto his most-prized body part.

I let Emma hold Baby’s leash and he pulled her around, too. He walked more carefully with her than he had with me. And we all laughed when he scratched at the ice with all four paws without managing to get a grip on it, and then landed on his big, black doggy butt.

I stood on the edge of the pond, crossed my arms, and watched Emma and Baby romp around. After a little while, David joined me. We didn’t speak. We merely met eyes from time to time and, whenever we did, we beamed at each other.

Eventually, we headed back to our pink Citroën—in great moods and feeling refreshed for the next leg of our journey. After tidying up the car, David moved to sit at the wheel as usual, but I stopped him. “Wouldn’t you like to take a break?” I said. “I slept before.”

“You want to drive my car?”

“Don’t act so shocked. I can drive just as well as you can.”

David looked at me skeptically before handing me the key. “But watch out—”

“I know, it’s a classic.”

I sat at the helm and placed my hands on the old steering wheel. Funnily, the clutch was right next to the blinker.

The car started without its usual explosion. David kept a nervous watch over me for a while as I drove. But his posture slowly got less rigid, and his eyelids sank, and he began to breathe loudly. He may have even snored a bit.

In the backseat, Emma laid half on top of Baby. She’d covered herself and the dog with my ski jacket. Every so often, Baby grunted.

The country road was as good as empty. Apparently, everyone else was driving on the highway right now. In a way, I was happy that we didn’t have money for the tolls. Sure, this route took longer, but it was worth it for the peace and quiet.

Once I was sure that everyone was sleeping, I stealthily turned on the radio. Accompanied by Doris Day, I glided through the winter wonderland, making my way closer to Nancy, our next stopover.