14
Olivia
As soon as Brooke learned that her grandparents had a dog, she wanted to visit them. She loved dogs. She chased small white dogs in the park, laughed at the long, lean ones on the street, tried to offer the big, mean ones a Cheerio. Ryan was gone every weekend scouting at high school swim championships up and down the state, and so Olivia thought a trip to Santa Barbara to see the new dog was a good idea. It would, at least, be a diversion; instead of asking endless questions about where her daddy was and when he was coming home, Brooke was asking endless questions about the dog and where it was going to sleep and who was going to feed it.
They began to pack twenty-four hours in advance of their trip—Olivia so that she didn’t forget some crucial piece of toddler gear, and Brooke so that she didn’t forget her bear, her blanket, the Cheerios she intended to give to the dog.
“You can’t feed the dog the food that you eat,” Olivia said.
“Why?”
“It will make her sick.”
“Why?”
“Because dogs like dog food, not people food.”
“I want dog food.”
“No, silly,” Olivia said. “You eat people food.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re a person.”
“Anna cooks it.”
“Well, yes,” Olivia said, realizing that, in addition to stopping the mail and the newspaper, she had to call to cancel meals for Thursday and Friday. “Anna cooks our dinner sometimes when we’re here, but she won’t be cooking our food at Grandma’s house. Maybe Grandpa Tom will make you some guacamole.”
‘“Molee!” Brooke sang out.
ON the night before they left, Ryan called from Mission Bay. He and Olivia hadn’t spoken in two days.
“Hey,” he said. “It’s me. Is Brooke still up?”
“No,” Olivia said.
“How are you guys doing?”
“Fine.”
“Up to anything fun?”
“We’re going down to see your mom and dad,” Olivia said, as if she were a reporter reciting the news, “and to meet the new dog.”
“Oh,” Ryan said. “Okay. I wanted to stop off and see them on my way down here, but I didn’t have time. How long will you be there?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“If you’re mad at me, Olivia,” Ryan finally said, “why don’t you just say it.”
“I’ve said it.”
“You’re mad that I have a full-time job, is that right? That’s the complaint? That I’m not home for dinner every night?”
“This isn’t what I wanted,” Olivia said.
“Believe me, it’s not what I wanted either,” Ryan said. “I’m out here busting my butt and nothing seems to make you happy. A bigger paycheck, being able to stay home, food from my grandmother ... none of it makes you happy?”
She paused for a moment to let the thoughts in her head come together, but they were like high, thin clouds, dispersed by the wind. She couldn’t pull them into shape. “I don’t know,” she said, and pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut and wondered if she would ever feel like herself again.
SHE had planned the drive so that Brooke would sleep, but Brooke didn’t sleep. She wanted to listen to Baby Beluga over and over again, she wanted to know what the big truck next to them was carrying and where it was going, she wanted to know when they were going to go past the cows. Olivia drove, and answered, and drove, and answered, and when she drove up the narrow road that led to Tom and Lily’s house on the hill, and saw the avocado trees spread out before her in neat, shimmering lines, she felt a sense of deliverance; someone would be here to help her.
The dog came bolting up to the car, barking, and Brooke started to chant, “Luna, Luna, Luna.”
Tom came around the side of the house, waving and carrying a rake. He grabbed Luna’s collar and pulled her back from the car. Olivia got out, kissed her father-in-law on the cheek, opened the back door, unlocked Brooke from her car seat, and hoisted the child on her hip. Brooke leaned over precipitously to try to pet the dog, so Olivia set her down and said, “Let Luna come to you, sweetie.”
Luna stepped up to Brooke and sniffed her and circled her, and wagged her tail, and Brooke laughed, and Olivia never took her eyes off Luna’s speckled snout or her mismatched eyes, alert to any sign that the dog would lunge, bite, attack. Olivia quickly realized that there would be no deliverance—not here, not anywhere, at least not until Brooke was five, or ten, or sixteen, or twenty-one.
Lily came out and threw her arms around Olivia and lifted Brooke into the air, where it seemed she didn’t want to be. Lily set her down. While Brooke and the dog continued to circle each other and sniff each other out, and Tom and Olivia monitored them, Lily took the duffel bags from the car, and carried them into the guest room, which had new Bertasi sheets on the bed, a new bedspread, a big, red stuffed chair from the house in Vermont, and wildflowers in a vase beneath the window.
Olivia came in, hauling the port-a-crib. “This is a beautiful room,” she said. “You’ve done such a nice job with it.”
“It doesn’t feel real,” Lily said. “That this is our house, that’s our dog, and you can just drive down to see us.” She smiled. “I love it.”
“It’s wonderful to have you so close,” Olivia said, “and the dog is obviously a big hit. Brooke would give anything for a dog.”
“You’re not a dog lover?”
“Oh I am,” Olivia said. “We had Saint Bernards growing up. Five of them, over about ten years. It’s just that...” She stopped, and turned toward the window so that Lily couldn’t see her face, which had cracked open. She busied herself with unzipping the portable crib, composed herself, then stood up and faced her mother-in-law with tears in her eyes. “It’s just that I can’t handle a dog,” she said. “I can barely handle Brooke.”
Lily stepped up to Olivia and embraced her. The two women were nearly the same height and build, and Olivia fit in Lily’s arms as if she were her own child. Olivia stepped back and sobbed. “It’s just so hard,” she said. “I’m so tired. And Ryan, you know, he’s gone a lot. For his job. And when he’s home, we’re mad at each other all the time.”
“Remember how after you gave birth to Brooke, you were shocked that no one had warned you how much it would hurt?”
Olivia nodded.
“It’s the same deal with a toddler. There must be something in our brains that doesn’t hear the stories other women tell, because everyone warns you how tired you’re going to be. Everyone talks about how hard it is to keep your marriage whole. But every new mother is shocked. It will get better. I promise. ”
They heard Brooke begin to wail, and the sound got closer, and then Tom was there with Brooke in his arms and Luna at his heels. “Luna licked her face,” Tom said.
Brooke reached out her arms for her mother, and Olivia took the girl, and felt her body shaking and heaving. “Shhhh,” she said, “you’ll be fine,” and then to Tom and Lily said, “She skipped her nap. She was so excited to see you. I’ll just lie down with her until she goes to sleep.”
Tom and Lily left the room, and Olivia lay down with her overwrought child on the crisp new sheets, and fell asleep before Brooke did.
