Page 77 of Just a Plot Twist
She is getting better, though, because it’s been a few days since I’ve found a little “surprise” waiting for me.
“I got to meet her for the first time earlier tonight.” Claire says, turning in her seat to address Dax and Indie. “And she’s a fabulous gal.”
“She smells like old dog vitamins and pills,” Dax grumbles, not even able to hide his grin about it.
“And peanut butter!” Indie says. “And she plays tug tug with a rope we made, but she gives up too easily.”
“Yeah, I thought dogs never gave up a game of tug of rope,” Dax says.
“She’s elderly, guys,” I say. “She probably gets worn out easily.”
Claire laughs. “I had a dog named Wilford. He’s huge. He lives with my sister now because, technically, he was hers, but I miss him something fierce.”
I catch a glimpse of Indie frowning from the rearview mirror. “You can share Cinnamon with us,” she says. “She needs all the help she can get.”
Claire and I laugh. “Yes, she does,” I say.
“I’d be honored to be a member of her fan club,” Claire says, turning towards them, resting her arm on the seat.
“If you’re in her fan club, you have to take a turn brushing her teeth,” Dax says.
I laugh. “Tell her what happened last time you had to brush her teeth.”
“My dad made me because he said it was my turn, but she ended up gnawing on the brush so hard, she mangled it. She thought it was a game.”
The rest of the conversation is mostly about Cinnamon. When we arrive home, I’m relieved to change into some dry clothes. The kids excitedly show Claire the shelf with her things and where the dog food is and how she has a water bowl, but she doesn’t drink from it.
“She doesn’t drink her water?”
At Claire’s confused expression, Indie steps forward and raises a hand. “I’ll show you the whole process.” She rolls her eyes, like it’s a huge pain. And it is. But I’d bet money that Indie doesn’t mind, and I couldn’t have asked for a better introduction to dog ownership for my kids than this situation. Any other dogs moving forward are going to be a piece of cake after Cinnamon.
Claire and Indie come back from the bathroom and Cinnamon’s muzzle is all wet from the bathtub faucet. They’re talking about school and how it’s almost summer break.
“I loved school,” Claire says. “I mean, sure, you have some annoying kids and sometimes teachers can be annoying, too. But learning new stuff is so exciting.”
“We’re on the ancient Egypt unit,” Indie says.
And that launches a long discussion about the mysteries of King Tut’s tomb, with Dax chiming in, too.
“You two need a midnight snack before bed?” Claire asks, lounging on the sofa, covering a yawn with the back of her hand.
“It’s not midnight yet. But we can stay up ‘til midnight, if you insist,” Dax says.
“Nice try,” I tell him. “You’ve got school in the morning.”
Claire lifts a finger in the air. “It’s called a midnight snack because it helps you feel full enough to notneeda snack at midnight,” she says. “Imagine what a pain it would be to have to get up and eat every midnight!”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Dax glowers. “But I could eat now.”
The four of us make pancakes. Yeah, it’s messy, and someone has to be on Cinnamon watch because she’s gotten a burst of energy from the excitement in the house.
But the point of it isn’t that it’s fun and easy. Or tasty—although it is. The point of it is to do something together.
I don’t usually have them on a school night, so I was stressed about how it would go, but Claire’s a natural with them. And she even has them chip in on the dishes, but somehow makes it fun by putting some of the foamy bubbles on my chin in the process.
“Your dad grew a beard.” And that starts a chain reaction and soon there’s a water and bubble fight.
As we race around the house with cups of water as ammo, more than once, I catch myself imagining what it would be like to make this a regular thing. And for the first time, I’m not remembering what it was like to be a family with Danica, some forlorn, impossibly tight feeling in my chest at what used to be.
