Racing in the Rain (14 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

O
h, a breath of September!

The vacations were done. The lawyers were back at work. The courts were at full staff. The postponements were finished. The truth would be had! Denny left that morning wearing the only suit he owned, a crumpled khaki two-piece from Banana Republic, and a dark tie. He looked very good.

“Mike will come by at lunch and take you for a walk,” he said to me. “I don't know how long this will go.”

Mike came and walked me briefly through the neighborhood so I wouldn't be lonely. Then he left again. Later that afternoon, Denny returned. He smiled down at me.

“Do I need to reintroduce you two?” he asked. And behind him was Zoë! I leapt into the air. I bounded. I
knew
it! I
knew
Denny would vanquish the Evil Twins! I felt like doing flips. Zoë had returned!

It was an amazing afternoon. We played in the yard. We ran and laughed. We hugged and cuddled. We made dinner together and sat at our table and ate. It felt so good to be together again! After dinner, they ate ice cream in the kitchen.

“Are you going back to Europe soon?” Zoë asked out of the blue.

Denny froze in place. The story had worked so well, Zoë still believed it. He sat down across from her.

“No, I'm not going back to Europe,” he said.

Her face lit up. “Yay!” she cheered. “I can have my room back!”

“Actually,” Denny said, “I'm afraid not yet.”

Her forehead crinkled and her lips pursed as she attempted to puzzle out his statement. I was puzzled, too.

“Why not?” she asked, finally, frustration in her voice. “I want to come home.”

“I know, honey, but the lawyers and judges have to make the decision on where you'll live. It's part of what happens when someone's mommy dies.”

“Just
tell
them,” she demanded. “Just
tell
them that I'm coming home. I don't want to live there anymore. I want to live with you and Enzo.”

“It's a little more complicated than that,” said Denny. “Someone said I did something very bad. And even though I know I didn't do it, now I have to go to court and prove to everyone that I didn't do it.”

Zoë thought about it for a moment. “Was it Grandma and Grandpa?” she asked.

I was very impressed with the laserlike accuracy of her inquiry.

“Not—,” Denny started. “No. No, it wasn't them. But . . . they
know
about it.”

“I made them love me too much,” Zoë said softly, looking into her bowl of melted ice cream. “I should have been bad. I should have made them not want to keep me.”

“No, honey, no,” Denny said, dismayed. “Don't say that. You should shine with all of your light all the time. I'll work this out. I promise I will.”

Zoë shook her head without meeting his eyes. Sadly, she went into her bedroom to play with the animals she had left behind.

Later in the evening, the doorbell rang. Denny answered it. Mark Fein was there.

“It's time,” he said.

Denny nodded and called for Zoë.

“This was a major victory for us, Dennis,” Mark said. “It means a lot. You understand that, right?”

Denny nodded, but he was sad. Like Zoë.

“Every other weekend, Friday after school until Sunday after dinner, she's yours,” Mark said. “And every Wednesday, you pick her up after school and deliver her before eight o'clock, right?”

“Right,” Denny said.

Mark Fein looked at Denny for a long time without speaking.

“I'm very proud of you,” he said, finally. “I don't know what goes on in that head of yours, but you're a real competitor.”

Denny breathed in deeply. “That's what I am,” he agreed.

And Mark Fein took Zoë away.

As it was, we had taken only our first step. Denny had won visitation rights. But Zoë was still in the custody of the Evil Twins. Denny was still on trial for a charge he didn't deserve. Nothing had been solved.

And yet. I had seen them together. I had seen them look at each other and giggle with relief. Which reaffirmed my faith in the balance of the universe. And while I understood that we had merely successfully navigated the first turn of a very long race, I felt that things looked good for us. Denny was not one to make mistakes. And with fresh tires and a full load of fuel, he would prove a tough foe to anyone challenging him.

Chapter Forty

H
ow quickly.

How quickly a year passes, like a mouthful of food snatched from the jaws of eternity. How quickly.

With little drama, the months slipped by, one by one, until another fall lay before us. And still, almost nothing had changed. Back and forth, round and round, the lawyers danced and played their game. It was merely a game to them. But not to us.

Denny took Zoë on schedule, every other weekend, every Wednesday afternoon. He took her to places of cultural enrichment. Art museums. Science exhibits. The zoo and the aquarium. He taught her things. And sometimes, on secret missions, he took us to the go-karts.

Ah. The electric karts. She was just big enough to fit when he took her. And she was good. She knew the karts immediately, as if she had been born to them. She was quick.

How quickly.

With little instruction, she climbed behind the wheel. She tucked her golden hair into a helmet, buckled her harness, and was off. No fear. No hesitation. No waiting.

“You ever race against her?” the worker boy asked Denny after her very first session.

“Nope,” Denny replied.

“'Cause she could kick your butt,” the kid said.

“I doubt it.” Denny laughed.

“So take a session,” the kid said. “She wins, you pay. You win, you don't pay.”

“You're on,” Denny said, grabbing a helmet from the rack of helmets that people can borrow—he hadn't bothered to bring his own.

They started their race, a flying start, with Denny giving Zoë a bit of an edge, taking it easy on her. For several laps he dogged her, stayed on her back tires, let her know he was there. Then he tried to pass her. And she wouldn't let him by.

She “slammed the door” on him.

He tried again to pass. She slammed the door.

Again. Same result. It was like she knew where he was at every moment. In a kart with no mirrors. Wearing a helmet that allowed no side vision. She
felt
him. She
knew
. When he made his moves, she shut him down. Every single time.

Consider that she had a tremendous advantage, being only sixty pounds to his one hundred fifty. That's a huge weight differential in karting. Still. Consider that he was a thirty-year-old semiprofessional race car driver and she was a seven-year-old newbie. Consider the possibilities.

She won the race, God bless her little soul. She “took the checkered flag” and beat her old man. And I was so happy. I was so happy that I didn't mind it when I had to wait in the car while they went into Andy's Diner for french fries and milk shakes.

How did Denny sustain himself for the duration of this ordeal? Here's how: He had a secret. His daughter was better and quicker and smarter than he was. And while the Evil Twins may have restricted his ability to see her, when he
was
allowed to see her, he received all the energy he needed to maintain his focus.

Chapter Forty-One

S
pring, again. We were back at the Victrola.

I slept at my master's feet on the sidewalk of Fifteenth Avenue, which had been warmed by the sun like a cooking stone. Slept and sprawled, barely lifting my head to acknowledge the occasional petting I received from the passersby. I looked like I hadn't a care in the world. In fact, I was quite nervous, as I always was at our meetings with Mark.

“This is not a conversation I like to have,” Mark Fein said, leaning back on the iron chair until it groaned with fatigue. “It's one I have too often.”

“I'm ready,” Denny said.

“Money,” said the lawyer.

Denny nodded to himself and sighed. “I've missed some invoices.”

“You owe me a ton, Dennis,” Mark clarified. “I've been giving you slack, but I have to cut you off.”

“Give me another thirty days of slack,” Denny said.

“Can't do it, friend.”

“Yes, you can,” Denny said firmly. “Yes. You can.”

Mark sucked on his latte. “I have investigators. Paralegals. Support staff. I have to pay these people.”

“Mark,” Denny said. “I'm asking you for a favor. Give me thirty days.”

“You'll be paid in full?” Mark asked.

“Thirty days,” said Denny.

Mark finished his coffee drink and stood. “Okay. Thirty days.”

“I'll pay,” Denny said. “You keep working.”

Chapter Forty-Two

T
he solution had been put to Denny by Mark Fein: if Denny were to quit his claim to Zoë, the custody suit would vanish. That's what Mark Fein said. As simple as that.

At one point Mark even counseled Denny that perhaps the best thing for Zoë would be to stay with her grandparents. They were better able to provide for the comforts of her childhood, as well as pay for her college education, when that became necessary. Further, he noted that a child needs a stable home environment. This, he said, could be best provided in a single housing location and with consistent schooling, preferably in the suburbs. Or at a private school in an urban neighborhood. Mark assured Denny he would settle for nothing short of a liberal visitation schedule. He spent quite a long time trying to convince Denny of these truths.

But Denny refused to yield to these ideas. He wanted his daughter and he wanted his racing career and he refused to give up one for the other.

“It's never too late,” Denny said to Mark. “Things change.”

Very true. Things change quickly. And, as if to prove it, Denny sold our house.

We had no money left. They had sucked him dry. Mark had threatened to cease working for Denny's defense. There was little else Denny could do. He rented a truck from U-Haul and called on his friends, and one weekend that summer, we moved all of our belongings from our house in the Central District to a one-bedroom apartment on Capitol Hill.

I loved our house. It was small, I know. But I had grown attached to my spot in the living room on the hardwood floor, which was very warm in the winter when the sun streamed in through the window. And I loved using my dog door, which Denny had installed for me so I could venture into the backyard at will. But that was no more. That was gone. From that point forward, my days were spent in an apartment with carpeting that smelled of chemicals and insulated windows that didn't breathe properly. Plus a refrigerator that hummed too loudly and seemed to work too hard to keep the food cold. And no cable TV.

Still, I tried to make the best of it. If I squeezed myself into the corner between the arm of the sofa and the sliding glass door, I could see past the building across the street. Through a narrow gap, I could see the Space Needle with its little bronze elevators that tirelessly whisked visitors from the ground to the sky and back again.

Chapter Forty-Three

D
enny paid his account with Mark Fein. Then Denny found a new lawyer named Mr. Lawrence. Mark had spark and fire. This one had very large ears.

This one asked for a continuance, which is what you can do in the legal world if you need time to read all the paperwork. And while I understood it was necessary, I was still concerned. While it had seemed like we were getting close to the end, suddenly the horizon shot away from us. We were waiting for the legal wheels to turn, which they did, but exceedingly slowly.

Shortly after Denny began working with our new lawyer, we received more bad news. The Evil Twins were suing Denny for child support. Dastardly, is how Mark Fein had described them. So now, in addition to taking his child from him, they demanded he pay for the food they fed her?

Mr. Lawrence defended their action as a legitimate tactic, ruthless as it might be. He posed to Denny a question: “Does the end always justify the means?” And then, he answered it: “Apparently, for them, it does.”

I have an imaginary friend. I call him King Karma. I know that karma is a force in this universe, and that people like the Evil Twins will receive karmic justice for their actions. I know that this justice will come when the universe deems it appropriate, and it may not be in this lifetime but in the next, or the one after that. The current consciousness of the Evil Twins may never feel the brunt of the karma they have incurred, though their souls absolutely will. I understand this concept.

But I don't like it. And so my imaginary friend does things for me. If you are mean to someone, King Karma will swoop out of the sky and call you names. If you kick someone, King Karma will bound from an alley and kick you back. If you are cruel and vicious, King Karma will administer a fitting punishment.

At night, before I sleep, I talk to my imaginary friend and I send him to the Evil Twins, and he exacts his justice. It may not be much, but it's what I can do. Every night, King Karma gives them very bad dreams in which they are chased mercilessly by a pack of wild dogs until they awaken with a start, and are unable to fall asleep again.

Chapter Forty-Four

I
t was an especially difficult winter for me. Perhaps it was the stairs in our apartment building. Or maybe it was my arthritis catching up to me. Or maybe I was just tired of being a dog.

I so longed to shed this body, to be free of it. And, looking back, I can tell you it was my state of mind, it was my outlook on life, that attracted me to that car and attracted that car to me. We make our own destiny.

We walked back from Volunteer Park late in the night. It was not too cold and not too warm, a gentle breeze blew, and snow fell from the sky. I was unsettled by the snow, I remember. Denny often allowed me to walk home from the park without my leash, and that night I strayed too far from him. I was watching the flakes fall and gather in a thin layer on the sidewalk and on the street, which was empty of both cars and people.

“Yo, Zo!” he called. He whistled for me, his sharp whistle.

I looked up. He was on the other side of Aloha. He must have crossed without my noticing.

“Come here, boy!”

He slapped his thigh, and I bounded toward him into the street.

Suddenly Denny spotted the car and cried out, “No! Wait!”

The tires did not scream, as tires do. The ground was covered with a thin layer of snow. The tires hushed. They shushed. And then the car hit me.

So stupid
, I thought.
I am so stupid. I am the stupidest dog on the planet, and I have the nerve to dream of becoming a man? I am stupid.

“Settle down, boy.” Denny's hands were on me. Warm.

“I didn't see—” said the driver of the car.

“I know,” said Denny.

“He shot out—” continued the driver.

“I totally understand. I saw the whole thing,” replied Denny.

Denny lifted me. Denny held me. “I'm several blocks from home. He's too heavy to carry. Will you drive me?”

“Sure, but—”

“You tried to stop. The street is snowy,” Denny said calmly.

“I'm totally freaking—I've never hit a dog before.”

“What just happened isn't important,” Denny said. “Let's think about what's going to happen next. Get in your car.”

“Yeah,” the boy said. He was just a boy. A teenager. “Where should I go?”

“Everything's fine,” Denny said, sliding into the backseat with me on his lap. “Take a deep breath and let's drive.”