Night Swimming (16 page)

“Don’t worry about it, Skip,” Blossom said; the worry in her voice and eyes had nothing to do with doggie attire. “I’ll find something. He won’t be underdressed. By the way, what’s his name?”

“Valentine. Jeannie gave him to me last Valentine’s Day. I just call him Vinny, though. It’s less embarrassing on walks.”

Valentine? Just kill me now.
“Valentine. Great.”

“So you’ll meet them at three? Vinny and Jeannie.”

“Wonderful. Looking forward to it.”
Like a pencil in my eye.
“See you then,” she said, disappearing upstairs.

CHAPTER 27

B
LOSSOM MADE SURE TO STAY
away the whole day to avoid bumping into Jeannie, but when she pulled into her parking space, she was horrified to see Skip standing there with Valentine and Jeannie.
Jesus Christ. She was supposed to drop him off two hours ago. Back up, just back up.
But she couldn’t. Skip was waving to her, and Jeannie was staring.

“Hey, Blossom,” Skip said as Blossom approached. Happily. Dreadfully. She felt as if she was fake-laughing. Something she swore she’d never do again.

“I’d like you to meet my wife. Jeannie, Blossom . . . Blossom, Jeannie...”

My God, she’s beautiful.

“Nice to meet you,” Blossom said, extending her hand. She wanted to die right there.

How could I have ever thought, for a second, for even a nanosecond, that someone like Skip could ever like me. Look at her. She’s a long-stemmed rose, and I’m...I’m...I’m...a shrub!

“Same,” Jeannie said. She was exactly as Blossom had imagined: five-eleven, lanky, blonde, her features as fine as smooth, white butter. “So, I hear you’re taking Valentine to a formal?”
She’s probably thinking I’m asking her dog ’cause I can’t get a date.

“Yeah, a dog party,” Blossom said, smiling on.
God, how long do I have to keep this grin on my face? A dog party. I might as well put
bowwow
on my forehead.

“A dog party. How quaint. Anyway . . .” she said, handing the leash over to Skip, “I gotta go; I’m late.” And she dashed off, her long hair trailing behind like a silk scarf, her long legs taking forever to pull up into her BMW.

This is a nightmare.
“Nice meeting you,” Blossom lied. Jeannie said nothing.

Jeannie waved and took off.

“I thought you said she was coming at three.”

“I did. Her audition got all changed around. That’s Jeannie for you. You never know. So this is Vinny. Vinny...this is Blossom.” Vinny was a black and white mixture of border collie and who knows what. He wagged his tail, obviously glad to be here. It wouldn’t matter if Blossom were the queen of England or the duchess of York or just Blossom. Vinny was happy to meet her. This, she thought, is why animals are so wonderful. You could be anyone, even yourself, and they’re still happy to see you. She gave him a scratch behind the ears.

“Vinny, how you doing, you silly boy?”

“I think he likes you, Blossom.”

“Yeah? Well, I like him, too.” She hesitated before asking one more time about borrowing Vinny for the party. She wanted to make sure she wasn’t imposing. “So it’s still okay to take him for a couple of hours, Skip?”

“Yeah, no problem. Saturday, right?” Skip confirmed, turning to leave. “Four o’clock?”

“Yes. Thanks, Skip. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

And as Skip led Vinny down the path, she couldn’t help herself; she just couldn’t help it. She had to ask him one more question: “Oh, by the way, what was Jeannie auditioning for today?”
Deodorant, dental floss, hemorrhoidal suppositories?

“I don’t know,” he called back. “I think it was for some skin cream or perfume. She does mostly fashion and beauty.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Blossom lied, watching Skip turn the corner.
You just had to ask, didn’t you?

CHAPTER 28

W
ELCOME, WELCOME, COME IN
.”

“This is Vinny, Mrs. Feingold. I’m Blossom McBeal. We live where Banjo and Moxie used to live. I hope it’s okay if Vinny comes to your party this year.”

“Absolutely. Hello, Vinny, very nice to meet you. Do come in.” Mrs. Feingold answered the door with a fake boa around her neck, sporting an ivory cigarette holder. Oversized butterfly glasses, trimmed in rhinestone, framed her face. Her hair was dyed fashionably blond and very done up, very Zsa Zsa. It was a pleasant and young-looking face for someone who was eighty-two years old. Eighty-two! It was really hard to believe. Mrs. Feingold didn’t look a day over seventy.

“I brought rawhide,” Blossom said, offering up the plate.

“How very thoughtful. Chi Chi and Lou Lou will love these. Chi Chi and Lou Lou are Rona Rosenberg’s shar-peis. They’re mad for rawhide.”

Blossom looked around. Mrs. Feingold’s apartment was elegantly decorated with beautiful paintings, period antiques, and Persian rugs. And displayed in the center on the dining room mantel was a replica of a fifty-foot Hinckley, finely appointed and exquisite.

Fresh roses were everywhere, roses that were so deep and velvety, they looked like opera curtains. If someone were to see the apartment without Mrs. Feingold in it, this dog party would truly be a puzzle. But there she was, standing between two large ceramic dogs that flagged her entryway and invited everyone in with a flair.

“You must meet Sputnik and Eloise, and, of course, Suzuki Beane. Over there, in the corner playing hard to get, is Lizzy, with that insistent pit bull Chopper, and out on the veranda, my very own Jigsy and Pip. And there’s Louisa Parker’s Chihuahua. He’s got quite the bark. He looks like a soprano, but he barks like an alto. And want to be let in on another little secret?”

“Sure,” Blossom said.

“Louisa’s husband, Mr. Parker, thinks he was a dog in the time of William the Great.”

Blossom laughed. “Let’s hope for Mrs. Parker’s sake he wasn’t a Chihuahua.”

Both women laughed now. Everyone here was a bit cuckoo, Blossom thought. Mrs. Feingold continued with her introductions, but not of the owners—they were quite secondary. Only the dogs got the honors.

“There’s Max and Milou and Scout. Over there is Mochachina, River, Dottie and Spottie. Buddy, Blue, Emma, Peaches, Chelsea Fleemarket—because that’s were she was found, poor dear—and over there is Casey, Winston, Travis, Tess, and Ted Koppel.”

“Ted Koppel?”

“Mrs. Sorrenson loves Ted Koppel. She’s watched him every night for twenty years. She was so worried that after the hostage crisis ended back in nineteen-eighty he’d be taken off the air. But he wasn’t, and she’s been loyal to him ever since. Hence the name.”

“Ahhhh.” Definitely cuckoo, no doubt about it.

Mrs. Feingold’s apartment was so thick with dogs and hair, Blossom worried that someone’s throat would close. The TV room played
Lady and the Tramp
while the TV in the bedroom played
Best in Show.
Human food and drinks were set up in the kitchen, while doggie treats were set up all over the place. Blossom caught sight of a table where dozens of gifts were piled neatly.

“Oh, my God, I didn’t bring you a gift,” she gasped, realizing her rudeness. “My dear, you brought yourself and your handsome young dog. That’s quite enough.”

As the afternoon drew on, Blossom felt sure she’d landed in some strange parallel universe. It was as if a petting zoo had collided with a weird variation of performance art in Mrs. Feingold’s apartment. After an hour, Blossom found herself in the kitchen with Mrs. Feingold.

“So these parties are somewhat unusual, Mrs. Feingold. How did you even think to do a dog party?”

“When my husband died, I was very lonely, so I decided to get a dog for company. I didn’t get one right away, though. I waited for about two years. I think those two years were the hardest in my entire life. I never thought a dog would make any difference. I didn’t think anything would. Hell, I wasn’t even a dog person. But bringing a dog into the house was like bringing in life. It just made me happy. Their little tails wagging when you came home, jumping into your lap when you watched TV. That’s, of course, when Pip was smaller. Now he’d break my lap. Slowly but surely I began to find my smile again. And part of that was because of a dog. Can you believe it?”

“I can totally believe it. In fact, I’ve heard of people even living longer because of their pets. I’ve never had one”—
Jasper was too long ago to count
—“but I’ve always thought about it.”

“What about Vinny?”

Blossom had slipped. “Oh, yes, Vinny, of course.” She didn’t want Mrs. Feingold to think she was crashing her party under false pretenses, so she continued her charade. “Vinny’s my first dog.”

“Well, he’s a good one. Maybe he can go to the park with Jigsy and Pip sometime.”

“Ahhh... yeah... that sounds nice.” What was she going to say? No, never? Blossom struggled to change the subject. “Why’d you get two dogs, Mrs. Feingold?”

“I got them from a shelter. Jigsy had only a day left before they were going to put him down, and I couldn’t bear to take one without the other.”

“That is such a nice story, Mrs. Feingold. What kind of dog is Jigsy?”

“A French briard. It was his ears that got to me. Every time he perks them up, it looks like he’s trying to get Radio Free Europe.”

Blossom laughed.

“Sometimes we just need rescuing, Blossom. The way I see it is, they rescued me as much as I rescued them. So I give them this little birthday party to celebrate another year of...of... just being here and being happy... happy and alive. It’s just as much a party for me, too, being here for one more year and being happy. Does that make any sense to you?”

“More than you can imagine.”

Blossom was pleasantly surprised by Mrs. Feingold’s openness. She felt as if she had known her before this, perhaps in some other life.

Mrs. Feingold stood with some sort of delectable doggie casserole in her hands. “Well, my dear, can’t leave the guests waiting.”

Blossom gently touched Mrs. Feingold’s arm. “I liked your story. Thank you for telling me.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Blossom, dear. I have dozens. You must come over and let me chew your ear off.”

With that, she swept out of the kitchen like a French chef, holding what looked like a swan carved out of Alpo.

When it was time for Blossom to leave, she gathered up her charge. Mrs. Feingold escorted her to the door.

“Perhaps next Sunday, if you don’t find yourselves too busy, you can bring Vinny over and we can have a visit.”

Oh, Jesus. I’m gonna have to borrow Skip’s dog again.

“Well, I’d love to, Mrs. Feingold, but I’m afraid that’s Vinny’s day at the groomer’s. I leave him there for hours. You know, nails, shampoo, massage.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely. Well, then, perhaps you’d like to come by yourself for some brandy.”

This was unexpected. Besides Skip’s invitation to Disneyland, Blossom hadn’t been invited anywhere in a long time. It felt very nice.

“Brandy? Yes, that would be fine. I love brandy.”
What are you talking about? You’ve never had brandy in your life.
“Thank you for asking.”

“Well, thank you for coming. This year was so much better than last.”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“You did?”

“Well, only a little bit. Something about . . .” She was trying to find a nice word for what happened.

“Gang rape. That’s the word you’re searching for. It was awful. Fortunately, Bruno had a prior engagement this year. Poor Eloise.”

Blossom looked over at Eloise. She didn’t look as if she was having such a great time. It occurred to her that Eloise was probably very disappointed Bruno did not show up this year.

“So I’ll see you on Sunday, Blossom?” Mrs. Feingold asked as she slowly closed her door. Dogs were trying to get out.

“Uhhh, yes, Sunday... Sunday will be fine. Thank you.” And Blossom walked away thinking how nice it was that Mrs. Feingold had extended herself. People in Gorham would never say, “Hey, you must come over this weekend,” or, “Keep Tuesday night free for dinner.” It was a different mentality completely.

Clearly, something had changed. Something was different. She was different. Blossom felt free, freer than she’d ever felt. She felt free to live. And it seemed so damn ironic to her that death had been the thing to give her this gift.

It was seven o’clock when Blossom returned Vinny. Skip was sitting on the swing by the pool, reading a paper. “Sorry it’s so late, Skip, but Vinny was the first dog to leave.”

“No problem. I got here only fifteen minutes ago myself.” He looked at his watch.

“I hope I didn’t keep you from anything.”

“Not at all,” Skip answered. “I was just going to grab a bite.”

“Oh, well... ahhh... okay, then... thank you again,” she said, handing him Vinny’s leash. There was something awkward and apologetic in her voice. Skip sensed it. It had the ring of someone who looks around at others who have somewhere to go after a party, and it was clear to him that Blossom had nowhere to go.

“Have you eaten, Blossom?”

“Oh, I . . .” she mumbled. There she was again. Unable to make complete sentences with Skip.

“Would you like to get something to eat? It’s dinnertime anyway,” he said, “and I want to hear all about the party. There’s a great place on Sunset. Café Med. They’ve got an outdoor space where Vinny can lay down. And good Italian food that’s reasonably priced.”

“Thanks, Skip. I’d love to. But I insist, this is my treat. A thank-you for borrowing Vinny.”

“That sounds perfect.” She could feel Skip’s kindness like an embrace. How was he able to do that, understand her loneliness in an instant? And then reach out. Skip. There was so much to fall in love with. How could Jeannie even question what she had with him? She thought about how lucky some women are with the gifts they are given. Jeannie was thin and beautiful and had someone like Skip to love her. Probably many men had loved Jeannie and would love her. Jeannie had so much that she could throw things away and still have a lot left over.
What would that feel like?
Blossom could only imagine. Suddenly she felt jealousy rising in her like a green hatred.