Must Love Dogs by Claire Cook & Carrington Macduffie

Author:Claire Cook & Carrington Macduffie [Cook, Claire & Macduffie, Carrington]
Language: kor
Format: epub
Tags: Humorous Fiction
ISBN: 9780786247998
Google: pxoSRAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0786177772
Publisher: Pega Puksŭ
Published: 2001-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Mother Teresa and I slept late. We ate a big breakfast, went for a long walk on the beach. I brought a tennis ball, threw it as hard as I could along the rocky expanse of sand. Remembered Billy Jr. and Michael saying to me when we were kids, If you don’t practice, Sarah, you’re always gonna throw like a girl. I practiced, but I still threw like a girl. I never quite grasped that flick-of-the-wrist thing.

Mother Teresa didn’t seem to mind. She bounded after the ball again and again, as if each time were her first. Sometimes she brought it back to me; sometimes she let me chase her for it. On the way home from the beach, we stopped at Surfside Variety for a couple of spring waters. I taught her how to drink from the bottle. She was a natural.

We’d been pretty much sitting by the phone ever since. Phoebe called around two. “Thank you so much for taking the dog, Sarah. Can you stay for dinner when you bring her back tomorrow?” Sorry, I wanted to say, I’d really like to. But I’ve fallen madly in love and I need to spend every waking moment with…. And, by the way, you’d better start being nice to my brother or else.

“Thanks, Phoebe. Can I bring anything?”

*

“John Anderson.”

“Oh, my God, you didn’t say ‘Yellow.’ ”

“It’s one of a couple of habits I’m trying to break.”

“I think I kind of miss it.” John didn’t say anything. I waited to be sure. “Um, I’m just calling to say thank you for last night. It was so nice of you to drive all the way down here. I really appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. I was happy to do it.”

I waited for John to start chatting. He didn’t. “Have you come up with any new anagrams?” I asked.

“Not really.”

“Mother Teresa is staying with me this weekend.”

“I know.”

“She’s really fun. We went to the beach. Now we’re just kind of hanging around.”

“That’s nice.”

“Are you mad at me?” I asked pitifully.

“Well, if you want to know the truth, last night you didn’t seem very date-delayed…”

“It was a-a fluke, a momentary surplus. I mean, Bob Connor lives in Dolly’s trailer park and the guy on the phone was someone who answered my ad ages ago and I just called him back because I couldn’t get out of my room, and Michael is my brother….” Why was I sounding so defensive? Why did I have to explain anything to John Anderson?

“Listen, Sarah, you don’t have to explain anything to me. It might be a good idea to figure it out for yourself, though. Anyway, thanks for calling, but I have to be somewhere in about half an hour.”

I hung up without answering. It might be a good idea to figure it out for yourself though, I mimicked silently.

*

I dialed Bob Connor’s number. It rang and rang. No answer, no machine to decide whether or not to leave a message. I called my father, thinking I could kill some time yelling at him for last night.

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