Page 60 of The Goode Girls of Maple Lane
“Right, okay,” I say slowly. “I just—”
“I left my keys at my stupid boyfriend’s apartment,” she interjects through a sniffle. “My friend’s on her way with my spare so I’ll be out of here in, like, minutes or whatever.”
“Okay,” I say again, floundering a little.
She peers around me. “Your dog can do stairs now?”
“Oh. No. She can handle a few, but I’m pretty sure she’ll always be an elevator girl.”
“Then what—” She stops herself. “Oh. Got it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay,” I say for what already feels like the hundredth time.
I bury a hand in Aggie’s neck fur, desperate to fidget. I don’t know what it is about this girl that intimidates me—the wardrobe and flawlessly styled hair and makeup, the combination of tiny body mass and intense fierceness, or the way she passes the rest of us by like she has much better people to spend her time with. Whatever the case, I’m a little at sea here.
A door opens behind me and I turn in the stairwell doorway to see Minh Ha exiting her apartment in her coat and scarf with Pilot in a handbag. They’re wearing the matching bucket hats Regina made them for Christmas, and I’m momentarily distracted by the cuteness, but then Minh Ha’s eyes dart toward the stairwell and she gives me aneverything okay?look. I reply with a hint of a shrug and a look I hope communicates something likeI think so and I think maybe the less fuss the better?
However Minh Ha interprets it, she seems to get the gist because she presses the elevator call button opposite the stairwell and tucks herself out of Phone Girl’s view while she waits.
Still standing in the doorway with Phone Girl sniffling on the stairs, Minh Ha waiting in the hallway, and Aggie looking up at me for direction, I brace myself and try again.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I say.
Phone Girl scoffs. “No shit.”
“But,” I press on, “Aggie’s a really good listener if you want to talk to her. She’s also great at hugs, so, um, I thought maybe, if you wanted some company while you wait...”
Phone Girl blinks at me through seriously impressive lash extensions.
“You think hanging out with a dog is going to solve all my problems?” she asks.
“No, but for me, my problems aren’t as overwhelming when I’m not feeling as alone. Also, as a major bonus, dogsneversay the wrong thing. They don’t make assumptions about your situation or offer solutions you don’t want or interrupt to talk about themselves or tell you everything will be okay when you absolutely know it won’t be. They just listen. And love you.”
Phone Girl continues blinking at me like she thinks I have a few screws loose.
I don’t know. Maybe I do. But I also know I’m right about this.
“Your dog doesn’t love me,” she says.
“You’d be surprised. She’s pretty indiscriminatory where affection’s concerned.” I realize how insulting this sounds the second I’ve said it, which is why I usually avoid situations like this, but to my immense relief, a soggy laugh bubbles out of Phone Girl’s throat.
“Okay, whatever,” she says. “Why not?”
The tension in my body eases and I guide Aggie toward the edge of the landing, where she sits next to Phone Girl like they’ve known each other forever, giving her face a sniff where tears have streaked her cheeks but cordially refraining from her usual emphatic kisses.Phone Girl watches her, uncertain, but when Aggie simply waits, with no pressure or expectations, she reaches out, wraps Aggie in her arms, and bursts into another round of sobs.
I stand in the doorway, more than a little uncertain, myself.
“I can just, I’ll be, why don’t I wait in the...” I point over my shoulder at the hallway.
Phone Girl’s shoulders shake with another sob, but then she lifts her eyes to mine.
“Or you could stay,” she says with unexpected shyness. “To keep an eye on your dog.”
“Oh, um, sure. Thanks. Good idea.” I sneak Minh Ha a nervous look.
She smiles warmly, full of reassurance, before stepping into the arriving elevator while I enter the stairwell and sit at the back of the landing, letting the door close behind me.
For several minutes, Phone Girl buries her face in Aggie’s fur and cries. Aggie occasionally looks over her shoulder at me like she’s not sure what’s going on, but I’ve cried with her enough times for this to not be a wholly new experience. I assume this is all we’ll do until Phone Girl’s friend arrives, but as her sobs grow quiet, she surprises me by telling me her boyfriend broke up with her for being too high-maintenance, which made her furious when she only asked him to go out with her once in a while instead of playing stupid video games with his stupid buddies every stupid night. She goes on to call him several creatively insulting names and to detail the many reasons she’s better off without him. Despite how vehemently she argues this point, she’s clearly crushed, so I do my best to listen without judgment, following Aggie’s lead.
