She wanted to scope out the new building, and so went out for a long late-afternoon walk. She was still surprised to see how many people were out and about in the daytime. There seemed to be no end of people whose lives had nothing to do with dingy offices and jammed photocopiers and rushing for the train home long after the sun went down. For as long as she could remember, she’d done little else besides work. She worked early, she worked late, she worked constantly. She’d carefully pursued her career path, from intern to project manager to development director, where it looked like she’d be stalling out. She’d put in countless hours. She’d spent the money she made on clothes for work, presents for her coworkers, and work-related lunches. After she was let go, she hardly knew what to do with herself. There was almost no reason to get out of bed. She could see how that could become dangerous, leading to a life of slovenly solitude.
And then Rudy left for his conference. She went the whole first day he was gone without saying a single word to anyone. She had to clear her throat to answer the phone when he called that night. Now she made herself say “Good morning” to random people on the street. She told her name to the people who ran the dry cleaners, a nice Korean couple, just to hear someone say it.
Today she was especially restless because Rudy was coming home, so she’d distracted herself by walking into Columbia Heights to see how far the nearest grocery store was from the apartment building she’d read about.
She found the new building, made some careful notes about possible view options, and then returned to Adams-Morgan. On the way home, she’d run into McKay outside his building. He was sitting on the bench in his work suit, looking morose.
She’d known McKay Ettlinger since college, in Ohio. For various reasons they’d both wound up here in D.C., neighbors. She considered it one of the luckiest accidents of her adulthood.
“It’s Dolly’s birthday,” McKay explained, when she plopped down next to him. “She would have been twelve. This is when I’d be taking her out for her walkies.”
“Oh, honey,” Pru said, lamely. Dolly the pug had been dead for several months, but McKay was still having a hard time. He talked about her constantly. Her loyalty, her loving nature, her unselfish devotion—Pru had heard McKay invoke these qualities as if only one dog ever had embodied them, and not, as far as she could tell, every dog that had ever lived. It was really very sweet, since McKay in all other ways tended toward the cynical. He’d only recently put away Dolly’s food dish and her plaid L.L. Bean doggie bed. But he still couldn’t bring himself to wash her little nose prints off the sliding glass doors that led to the patio. The last time Pru was there, she had to fight the urge to Windex them off herself. Well, she wasn’t a dog person. She put a hand on McKay’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
“When I’m dying,” said McKay, in his soft Georgia drawl, “I want you to take all measures necessary. Do whatever you have to, to keep me alive. I don’t care if all that remains of me is an eyeball on a spinal cord.” He closed one eye and talked in a pinched, mechanical voice. “Hello, Prudence,” he said, imitating his own future decrepit self. “Come here where I can see you.”
“God, not me,” said Pru, laughing. “I’m just going to take a fat handful of barbiturates, when my time comes. I can’t stand pain.” Or the thought of others taking care of her—a grown-up Annali or, worse, Patsy. She imagined them as creaky old women, Pru confined to a hospital bed, unable to do a thing for herself, while Patsy shuffled around ringing little cymbals and chanting healing mantras in Pali. “But I want you to have a big party. With music and dancing and an ice dolphin sculpture on the buffet table. And play Peggy Lee singing ‘Is That All There Is?’ as I’m being lowered into the ground. Is that all there is to a fire?” she intoned, in her best Peggy Lee voice. Of course, she’d had this scenario planned for years.
McKay didn’t respond. He just looked at her blankly and said, “Do you think an engraved stone for Dolly would be too much?”
“Come on, girlfriend,” she said, pulling him up by the elbow. “You need a drink. It’s Friday, and somewhere the sun’s over the yardarm, right? And I have a little time before I have to meet Rudy.”
She was also thinking that a drink might help her tell McKay. She hadn’t said the words out loud yet to anyone. She wanted to wait until she was absolutely sure of herself first. She hadn’t even said anything to Rudy, during their brief conversations at night.
