February Sucks: Same Old Me (3of4)

I didn't make it home for nearly a week.

To her credit, Linda gave me some space. She called after three days and asked if I would be back at the house anytime soon- the kids were asking about why I was gone again. I hardly knew what to say.

So I told her the truth.

"Linda. That Night." We didn't have to call it anything but that anymore.

"Yes." She was patient. I'm sure she was still irritated with me for not being able to 'get over it already,' but she was at least willing to listen. Thank you, Doctor Manette.

"I never told you this. I bought some of those home DNA tests from the drugstore and tested the kids with them."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't know what was real anymore. It was so easy for you to just walk away from me like that. I figured it might not have been the first time. I had to know."

"They're yours. You should know that."

"They're not."

"Not possible."

"And yet, this is what the test says," and I read her the results.

"Not possible." She repeated.

"You know I have trust issues. Linda."

"Yes. You've made that quite clear. And whatever you think of me, it's still not possible. I can tell you for ten thousand percent certain that I had no other lovers but you from the time we met until That Night. You have reason to doubt me, I get that. I've been a terrible wife. I cheated on you, right in front of you. I admit it. But despite that, and even though you don't believe me, it's still not possible. Can't you see why?"

"Tell me."

"Because that stupid test says that you ARE related to the children somehow. If they weren't yours, whose could they be? It would have to be a male relative of yours, and you don't have any."

"That I know of."

"Come on. You seriously think that you have a secret brother that you never knew about, but I'd found him, and never told you, but instead had an affair that produced two children within three years? Not. Possible. The only male relative you've ever had was your Dad. You CAN'T believe I'd have been messing around with him. Even if I had been, it wouldn't have worked! He wasn't physically capable of fathering a child when Emma was conceived. His prostate cancer had progressed too far, remember? And he passed away more than two years before I was pregnant with Tommy. Whatever you think of me, however much of a treacherous slut you think I am, there is just no way the DNA could say you're related to them but not as their father."

I had no comeback for that. I was puzzled about it myself.

"So. Either the test you got from some drugstore is messed up somehow, or the laws of nature as we understand them are all wrong. My faithfulness has nothing to do with it. But there's something even more important than all that."

"What's that?"

"You raised them. You claimed them. You were there when each of them were born. You were the first person to hold each of those babies in your arms when they came into this world. Your name is on their birth certificates. You even told me, not too long ago, that you were willing to kill a man if he got between you and YOUR children. You are their father in every way that matters, INCLUDING by blood. So I'm not the least bit concerned about some test you got off the shelf at CVS."

"It was Walgreen's."

"Whatever. Emma is more your daughter than mine. You know that. You have the same brain. Tommy looks just like you. I've seen the baby pictures your mom had. This is an insane conversation. They're yours. They miss you. So do I. Come home. Have dinner with us and put them to bed. I won't ask you to stay the night, but I wish you would. You know that."

"I... I need to think."

"Good. Maybe if you start now, you might find your way home by supper."

We ended the call.

The damnedest thing is that she was right. It wasn't possible. I'd already confirmed with my mom that I had no male relatives. She was an only child, like me, and so was my dad. I had no cousins at all, and she'd never had a child in secret and given it up for adoption. She reminded me that she was lucky to have had even one child, because they'd had trouble conceiving me and I was a difficult pregnancy. The only possible way that Linda could have gotten pregnant with anything close to my DNA would have been with my dad's cryogenically frozen sperm... which didn't exist. Even MY paranoia couldn't support that idea for more than a nanosecond.

I was relaying all this to Dave and Pete at Pete's condo... I had become a regular visitor and we'd once again relaxed the 'no alcohol' rule for the evening. Dave was riffing on that line from Pirates of the Carribean- 'It's not so much a rule, really more of a GUIDE-line." Frankie the two-tone cat was playing at my ankles. I remembered what Pete had said about her kittens. Or lack thereof.

"Pete, what did you call it, the thing about Frankie? Being two cats with two sets of DNA?"

"Chimerism."

"Does that ever happen in humans?"

"Not like that, no. I don't think so. But wait. Yes. That's a thing. It's rare, but it's a thing."

"I've heard of that," said Dave. "It's like when people have two different colored eyes."

"Yeah," said Pete. "Now that I'm thinking of it, there was some lady who had her kid taken away by child services when the DNA test said it wasn't hers. They thought she'd stolen the baby. She was brought up on charges and it happened that she was pregnant again. The court tested her next kid right there when she gave birth. Boom. Also not hers. Her uterus didn't match her blood sample. She was a chimera, like Frankie."

"Does that happen in men?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

That led to more beer and a discussion of David Bowie's heterochromia, which it turned out was not genetic, but was the result of an injury. I later made some phone calls and met with a researcher in human genetics at the university. We took a bunch of tissue samples from all over me... yes, including my sperm, and that, dear friends, is how I learned that I'm a monster.

I'm a Chimera. Everyone else has forty-six chromosomes of DNA that make up who they are. I have ninety-two. My gametes are twenty-six chromosome haploids from only one of the two sets of forty-six, and they don't match the squamous epithelial cells from my saliva that I sent off in that testing kit. I've always been like this. Same old me as always. I ended up telling Linda that she wasn't the only one of us who didn't know what we had inside ourselves. I am my own brother. I never would have known. No wonder Frankie likes me.

***

I took the kids to get a puppy. Linda did not know we were adopting a dog from the animal shelter. I suppose I kind of wanted to piss her off. But once that dog was in the house, there would be fuck all she could do about it. When the kids realized where we were going and why, they could barely contain themselves. Actually, they didn't contain themselves at all, they went nuts.

Emma assumed command quickly, making a quick overview of the entire adoptable population of dogs, focusing exclusively on the puppies, and made sure to handle each one, but honestly, she needn't have bothered. One of them in particular jumped straight into her little arms for a doggie hug and refused to leave her alone. He was a little terrier mix, I think, with legs too long for his body, a mostly tawny coat with brown patches so dark they might have been black, and ears that couldn't decide which direction to point. She accepted his presence naturally, and he took it upon himself to grab Tommy's attention when it wandered towards the other dogs. Together, the three of them dutifully looked at the rest of the puppies before finalizing the forgone conclusion that this was The One.

As we were walking back towards the adoption desk, there was another row of mostly empty crates and I saw an older German Shepherd mix look towards me with detached resignation. Defeat. Hopelessness.

I stopped.

I knew that expression.

It was MY expression. Not all the time. But lately, behind the raw pain, the rage, the confusion, and even the intermittent optimism that I'd sometimes found. It was there in my mirror every morning. Abandonment. Betrayal. Resignation.

She ducked her head in a little bow, a polite nod. An acknowledgement. I see you, sir. Believe me, I know how it is.

I looked into her sad brown eyes. Hey old girl. You, too, huh? She nodded again and let her mouth drop open a fraction. I could see a tiny slip of her tongue. It wasn't quite a smile. Maybe a sigh.

I stepped forward and took a closer look. Not exactly a shepherd. She had a longer and more curved snout. Not as muscular, either, but I'd bet she was a runner in her day. Her fur was on the longish side, mottled brown and black and a few patches of white on her shoulders and sides. Her bib and her front paws were white, too, as if she was wearing tube socks. Her ears stood up halfway and then folded gracefully over. I could see a smattering of gray around her muzzle and elsewhere on her doggie face.

Really, sir? Don't go getting this old lady's hopes up. I had my heart broken once already, I can't do it again. Just move along, I'll be all right.

"I see you've met Elizabeth." A young woman with curly brown hair and a khaki shirt was hovering behind Elizabeth's crate. "Her family gave her up when they moved out of state. They decided not to take her with them. She's been pretty despondent ever since."

"Why didn't they take her? She seems like a good dog."

"Oh, she is. She's a wonderful dog, she just needs a home. Very well mannered. Totally housebroken. Good with kids. Good with other pets, too. Honestly, I think that, besides the move, it's her age. She's seven or eight. About the same age as the family's kids. The parents didn't want the children to see her in a few years when it would be time to put her to sleep."

"That's awful. How can anyone do that to their pet? Just abandon them like that? She's a member of their family!"

"Oh, I agree. It's completely heartless. Dogs give us everything, and they ask so little. And then, to just run off like that, to just leave her behind and forget about her..." She sniffed a bit, and brushed away the beginnings of a tear from the corner of her eye. "Well, that's how people are sometimes. I'm afraid her age makes her less adoptable. Everyone wants a new puppy. But in my opinion, senior dogs make better companions."

I felt a bit guilty, being one of the 'new puppy' people. I had room for ONE dog. ONE. That was only because I promised the kids, and I didn't even know how I was going to manage it. Two kids under the age of seven AND a puppy? In a mostly-broken home? I was already taking on too much. The house was already going to be a pee-and-hair filled pandemonium. I didn't need another dog. I couldn't take her in while I was spending every night at the Suites. No. No, this was not going to happen.

"Elizabeth has been with us for six weeks. I'm afraid she's scheduled to be put down tomorrow."

"Like hell she is. She's coming home with me."

After forty minutes of paperwork, a hundred and fifty-six dollars, a trip to the pet supply store for two crates, two dog beds, bowls, collars, tags, harnesses, leashes, and one fuckload of two different kinds of dog food all totalling another three hundred dollars, the six of us were back at my house unloading my impossibly overstuffed car and showing our two new family members their new fur-ever home. Linda had gone out and would presumably not be back for a while yet.

I got the crates set up and was snipping the tags off all the other gear while little Sven cavorted with Tommy and Emma. Elizabeth came up to me for an adult conversation.

So, this is for real? This is home now?

"You bet, old girl."

Please don't be kidding.

I reached down and cradled her long jaw in the palm of my hand, my fingers tickling the fur on her throat at the top of her bib. I looked her right in her big brown eyes when I spoke.

"No kidding, Elizabeth. You're a Good Girl and you need a home. You need a family to look after, and you need a human of your own. Well, I think this family needs you, too. I'm going to need help with all three of these kids. As for you and me, I'll be your human, and you can be my dog, if you want."

Okay. It's a deal. You be my person and I'll be the best dog in the world for you. You won't be sorry. Thank you so, so, much!

She sealed the deal with a solemn, warm lick of my palm.

"Okay," I said. She nodded and laid her head on my lap as I continued to fuss with the stuff. It took me longer than necessary, since one of my hands always seemed to make its way down to stroke her head and ears. I still had more to do. I was going to have to get some coat hooks or something to hang the leashes by the door. The backyard wasn't fenced in properly, I couldn't let them run around loose back there. Maybe I could shore up the fencing... Nah, that would have to wait for a few paychecks. Was Emma old enough to hold a leash for Sven? I doubted he'd run off, but still.

Linda came home and nearly tripped over Sven, who launched himself at her ankles and danced on his hind legs, with Emma and Tommy screaming and chasing after him.

"Jim?"

"Hi. Meet Sven."

"Well, hello, little guy." She picked up the puppy and her face was instantly awash with doggie kisses. She looked at me sideways and said "We should have talked about this."

"Yeah, probably." At this point I really didn't have to add the part about 'We really should have talked about a lot of things, including how you thought it would be okay to fuck other people and I'd just have to suck it up and deal with it, but we don't seem to do that, do we?' That issue was ALWAYS hanging in the air between us.

She looked like she was trying to solve a math problem in her head while avoiding the worst of the up-the-nose licks from Sven's surprisingly nimble and intrusive tongue. A puppy in the house would require greater domestic engagement from me, and more family bonding time, which would work to her advantage. "You realize that I'm not going to be the only one taking care of this fellow, right? You're feeding him and cleaning up his mess."

"Sure."

"That means you'll need to be around to do it."

"Sure."

"I mean it, Jim."

"Okay."

"I didn't tell you to get a dog."

"I didn't get a dog."

"Then what is he?" She held Sven out like an infant while Emma and Tommy were still jumping up and down.

"I didn't get A dog," I beckoned with one hand. "I got TWO dogs," I said as Elizabeth stepped forward and assumed her rightful place at my hip.

"Oh, Jim, really?"

"Meet Elizabeth. She's mine."

Linda looked at us. Elizabeth inclined her head slightly, like a foreign dignitary acknowledging someone's presence.

"Elizabeth of the White Hands, I see. Expanding on your Tristan and Isolde theme?"

I told you she'd figure that out. Linda is self-absorbed, foolish, emotionally stunted, and devoid of empathy, but she's not dumb. I looked at Elizabeth's white tube sock pattern. Huh. Elizabeth of the White Hands. How apropos.

"That had escaped my notice, honestly."

"Well, then." Linda put Sven down and approached Elizabeth respectfully, extending her hand for a sniff.

When women who are potential rivals meet each other for the first time, there is a span of perhaps half a second where observations are made, judgments are rendered, and hierarchies are established, using about ninety bajillion subtle points of data. They then greet each other formally with a precisely calculated mixture of outward friendship and inner reservation. You've seen it happen, don't pretend you haven't.

I'd never seen a human and a dog do it before, but that's exactly what they did.

Elizabeth blinked at Linda twice, sniffed once, and extended a polite sliver of her tongue for a hand lick, then looked at Emma and Tommy and Sven and finally me, back to Linda, and then me again.

Aha. So this is how things are, huh? Okay. Don't worry. I've got this.

"Good girl," I said.

"Were you talking to her, or me?" Linda asked.

"Ha."

I chose to stay the night. For the first time in forever, as the song from "Frozen" goes. After dinner and bedtime, Elizabeth was sitting on sentry duty in the hall between the doors of the kids' rooms. Sven was curled up asleep between her front paws. She raised her head and thumped her tail on the ground three times when she saw me come out of the bathroom.

"Come on, we'll go walkies one more time before bed," I said. She got up and padded to the front door, carrying Sven by the scruff of his neck. I got their harnesses on and had them out to do their business. Sven was pretty drowsy, but he got the idea. Back inside, I scooped Sven into his little crate, where he fell right back asleep. I opened the door of Elizabeth's crate, and she just looked at me disapprovingly.

Jim, I get it. You're new at this, so let me explain. You want me to stay the night in there so I don't pee in the hallway or something. Well, I won't. I know how houses work. Sven will need to sleep in there for a while so he'll learn not to foul his own space, sure, but I'm an adult. You can trust me. I'll sleep in the crate if I have to, but there's something more important you're missing.

"What is it, girl?"

She reached into her crate, pulled the doggie bed out with her mouth, and trotted off to the master bedroom with it. She considered the situation, then dropped it on the floor and jumped up onto my twin bed, where she curled herself into a ball at the foot of it.

"Really?"

Yes, really. Pack sleeping. It's a thing. It's healthy for us. There's not a lot of room on here, I admit, but trust me. You'll feel better, I'll feel better, and it will bring us closer. That's what you wanted, right? I'm your dog, and you're my human. This Is The Deal.

"All right. Just for tonight. Don't get used to it."

I don't know who you think you're kidding. This is how it's going to be, and we both know it.

"Yeah, probably. How did you know this was my bed, anyway?"

The other one smells like Her. Obviously. I don't understand how you people get by with your weirdly insensitive noses. It must be like you're mostly blind.

"I guess. Hey, am I losing my mind, talking to a dog, and imagining that you're talking back?" I climbed into bed... this would be the first time I actually slept in this bed... and Elizabeth accommodated the room for my feet while gently huffing at my question.

Don't be ridiculous. If you really were going crazy, you wouldn't think to wonder about it. Humans and dogs have been able to understand each other perfectly well for ten thousand years. You're just open to it. Anybody can speak dog if they just pull their noses out of their own butts.

"What?"

Figure of speech. Now, this old gal needs her beauty rest. I love you, human.

"I love you, too, Elizabeth of the White Hands."

I know my name is Elizabeth, but I don't understand that new part yet. You'll have to explain it to me later. Goodnight.

She closed her eyes and her breathing became a slow, steady, comfortable rhythm, like the rocking of a ship. She lulled me to sleep in minutes. I didn't notice Linda watching us, silently crying.

***

I'm only human.

It was the second week of September, almost seven months since The Event. Since Leap Day. Since Asshole. The kids had started a new school year. Sven had managed to get housebroken, under the patient tutelage of Elizabeth, who had taken on a motherly role not only to the puppy, but to Emma and Tommy as well. My job had rewarded me for my frequent travel, which kept me out of the house almost half the time. I never did get that condo, but I did vacate the Suites after six weeks. I didn't want to burn too much of my goodwill.