An Actual Life by Abigail Thomas

Author:Abigail Thomas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 1996-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Part Three

The worst thing is that when the train pulls in I see Buddy but he is not scanning the windows for my face. He is just standing there looking at his feet, or the cement. I do not see Dot anywhere, and he has brought the Dodge which has the bad gasoline fumes smell and the first thing I say to him is, “I can’t sit in the back.” It just comes out of me. I wanted to say, “Oh, Buddy, it is so good to be home,” and hope that he would fold me into his arms, but instead all I could say was I can’t sit in the back. Buddy smiles at me a forced-looking smile and he kisses Maddie, who sticks her face in my neck out of shyness. “That’s your own daddy,” I say to Maddie, and pretty soon she peeps a look at him and he puts her on his shoulders and carries our bags to the car in one hand. Buddy is very strong and can easily carry two bags in one hand. He holds on to Maddie’s feet with the other.

“Good trip?” he asks, when we are settled in the car. He looks so handsome but a little on the pale side and his hair is slicked back and you can see comb marks in it from the oil he has put on. I feel so flattered, like he has dressed up his hair to meet us. And he just recently shaved too.

“Great, yes,” I say, “Madeline is such a good little traveler,” and then I ask, “How are you? Where’s Dot?”

“Dot?” says Buddy. “She’s at home.”

“I thought she’d come to meet us too,” I say. He frowns at me. “I didn’t mean it as a criticism,” I say quickly.

“Well, Old Dog died,” says Buddy. “She’s burying him this morning. Under the porch.”

“Old Dog? Old Dog died?” I can’t help it, I start crying and pretty soon Buddy is crying too, little gasps but he won’t look at me and when I touch his shoulder he nods but he keeps both hands on the wheel. For one second I hate Dot for having such an old dog in the first place who you just get attached to and then it dies. But then I realize this is mean and I am just so sad that I will never hear his clicky shuffle and feel him rest his chin on my foot again. I can’t even believe it.

“But how can she get him under the porch?” I ask. “Old Dog was big.” And I blow my nose on one of Maddie’s diapers.

It turns out he died yesterday and they had him cremated and nobody called to tell me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask Buddy now. “Why didn’t you call me and tell me?”

“I don’t know,” says Buddy. “I just didn’t think about it.” He bows his head. “I’m sorry, Virginia. He wasn’t your dog, I guess.” That hurts my feelings worse than anything.

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