Chapter Eighteen

Only You Can Prevent Forrest Gump

Joanne quickly inserted herself into my daily routine. Every morning, as soon as she heard me coming down the steps, she’d bound up the stairs to greet me. Then I’d fill her food bowl and turn on the coffee machine. Once she finished her breakfast and while my coffee brewed, I’d clip on her leash and take her for a quick walk.

Dax had told me when they moved in that Joanne wasn’t a big walker, but I was determined to prove him wrong. I knew she had it in her. At first she balked at the walks, dropping to the floor, limp, as soon as I put the leash on her. But I could get her to move by bribing her with a small piece of dog biscuit (the only kind of treat Dax allowed Joanne). With the promise of a tasty little nugget as her reward, I’d gotten her to walk two whole blocks. Today was Sunday, and we were going for three.

“Joanne, this walk isn’t just for you; it’s for me, too,” I explained to her outside my house. “I have podcasts I want to listen to, so if you could extend these walks a little bit, I’d be very appreciative.”

She made it halfway up the second block before wanting to go home. She did this frustrating thing where she’d turn all the way around before dropping to the ground in a down-dog position, nose pointed in the direction of home.

“Okay, fine. You did a good job,” I told her as we headed back toward the house. “It’s like I tell my patients all the time”—yes, I was talking to the dog out loud, in public, but it was fairly early in the morning on a Sunday, and Chicagoans had seen worse—“you can’t simply jump into a new exercise routine full throttle if you’ve never been active before. You’ll get hurt, and you’ll get frustrated. This is supposed to be fun.”

She glanced back at me, panting.

I stiffly patted her on the head.

As we neared the house, I pulled out my earbuds, silencing the voices on my favorite podcast, the one where a trio of actor friends interviewed other famous people. The front door to my house stood ajar.

“What the heck?” Had I forgotten to close it? I racked my brain. No, I definitely remembered leaving the house and closing the door on my way out. When I went walking, I never bothered to lock my door, because I wasn’t going far. Now someone had broken into—or, well, not broken in to so much as “walked” into—my house.

I started running, but Joanne refused to engage in that much exertion, even if it would only mean jogging one whole house length. I pulled the beast as hard as I could, dragging her toward the house. Suddenly, a woman’s voice from inside yelled, “I’m calling the cops!”

That perked Joanne right up. She barked and dragged me the last twenty feet. I dropped her leash on accident, and she dashed up the steps and through my front door. I ran after her.

“Please! Don’t call the cops!” a male voice yelled. “I’m supposed to be here.”

“Oh my god! What the hell?” came the woman’s voice.

I ran down the stairs, into the basement, to what used to be the garden apartment of this three-flat. There I found Dax (naked from the waist up, wearing only a pair of lightweight, gray pajama pants—I averted my eyes from the vee pointing downward from his very toned stomach) facing off against Kelly, who had been knocked backward onto the couch by a wagging, licking Joanne.

Dax rushed to his dog, pulling her away from the intruder. I helped Kelly up from the couch, noting that she was holding her keys in her hand like a weapon, like she’d been ready to attack Dax.

“Annie!” Kelly yelled, shaking me off. “Call the cops! This jerk broke into your house and has been sleeping in my bed.” She pointed her keys at him.

I extracted the weapon from her grip. “Kel, it’s okay. Dax and the dog are supposed to be here.”

Kelly’s eyes snapped to Dax. “Dax?” she said, narrowing her gaze. “You’re the bartender from O’Leary’s.”

“Yes, he is. We know him. He’s not a random person off the street.” At least not completely random. I grabbed my friend’s arm and pulled her toward the stairs. I glanced back at Dax and mouthed, I’m sorry.

“We should let Dax go back to bed. He didn’t get home until after three this morning.”

“He didn’t get home…?” Kelly tried to turn around again, but I forced her up the steps. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

I led her into the kitchen. “Dax and Joanne are staying here for a little while.”

“Joanne?”

“The dog.” I gestured toward one of the stools at the counter. “Why don’t you sit down. I’ll get us some coffee and explain everything.”

Kelly didn’t sit. She stood stiff, glaring hard at the basement stairs.

I poured her a cup and set it down at the spot where she was supposed to be sitting. “Kel?” I said. “Take a seat. Let’s chat.” My eyes stung. “I haven’t seen you in…” We hadn’t crossed paths since the night she announced her engagement.

“Can’t. I’ve got to go. I’m just here to pick up something for my sister…” She turned toward me, her jaw clenched. “Where are my things, anyway?”

“Up in the top-floor guest room.” I pointed toward the ceiling.

“In the top-floor guest room.” She stared at me for one more beat, her mouth set in a line. Then she clomped all the way up to the third floor. I poured myself some coffee and sat down on one of the uncomfortable couches in the front room, noting a thin layer of dust across the back of the baby grand piano in my front bay window.

Okay, so maybe I was kind of a dick for moving her stuff upstairs, but what did she expect? She was never around anymore, and she’d announced she was moving to Galena. Was I supposed to leave her room intact, like a shrine to Kelly, for the rest of my life? Even my mom had turned my brother’s room into a workout space as soon as he graduated from college.

A few moments later, Kelly stomped back down, mouth set in a line.

“I’m sorry the dog jumped on you,” I said. “She’s actually really sweet.”

“I’m sure she is.” Kelly focused on something in her purse, and I got the sense that she was not looking at me on purpose. “We’re shopping for dresses today, remember?”

“Of course I do,” I said, too cheerfully. She was mad at me right now? Really? After she kept the existence of her serious boyfriend and now fiancé from me for months? After she dropped the bombshell that she was moving out? I was the bad guy here?

“And you won’t have to leave in the middle because of doctor stuff?” Now she looked at me, eyes flashing.

“Yes,” I said in a measured tone. “It’s going to be fine.” I didn’t know that for sure, but Sunday mornings tended to be slow for me, as far as patient calls went.

“Ten o’clock. Don’t be late.” She yanked open the door, and then she was gone.