Warning: The main characters have some very difficult moments ahead.
RED SOX: Once again, the front office is already hard at work on ruining next year!
FOR EVERY DOG THERE'S PUDDLES
by Phair
Ash was very pleased with herself. She managed to wake up, clean up, and dress up all before 8 o’clock. It was the first time since the attack that she was able to get her jeans on by herself. Tucking in her shirt, she grimaced at how loosely they fit now.
“Better go get some breakfast or Mr. Deming will be on my back about eating right,” she mumbled to herself.
Ash felt a flush of embarrassment when she realized she wasn’t sure what to do next. It being her first morning in the Pretty home, there was no established routine for her to follow. Add to that, she had never really been a guest in anybody’s home before. Ash had no previous life experience to fall back on in this situation. Pushing her panic down, she tried to think logically. Mrs. Pretty had, indeed, offered her a place to stay. However, food and sundries were never discussed. Food alone is a rather expensive commodity. There was no way Mrs. Pretty meant to feed as well as house her. Ash reasoned she would be expected to provide her own food. She wondered how she could get to the bank to get some money to buy her groceries.
“I’ll just have to ask her for a ride. She’ll understand that I got no money with me. She’s an adult. She knows the cash flow thing.” Another terrible thought crept into her internal conversation, “And, my cash ain’t gonna last long if I don’t get back to work.” Despair was quickly gaining a foothold, “Oh you God Damn son of a bitch, what did I ever do to you?” Ash shuddered as she remembered the hooded figure with the baseball bat beating her.
Ash took a breath and forced herself to calm down. Wiping newborn tears from her eyes, she tried to shake off the creepy feeling the memories had left before she reached for the door. Cautiously, she made her way into the hall. Looking left first then right, Ash figured out where the kitchen was. Taking silent steps she made her way down the hall to the kitchen.
“Good morning, Lindsey,” Mrs. Pretty gave a pleasant greeting.
She was seated at the large island in the middle of the huge room. In front of her were three small dolls and a notepad. She was staring at the figures intently.
“I made you a bowl of fresh fruit. It’s on the second shelf of the fridge. There’s milk and juice so help yourself. When Dad wakes up, I’ll make us all pancakes.”
Ash was stunned. Not only was Mrs. Pretty sharing her food with Ash but she offered to cook for her too.
“Thank you,” Ash stuttered slightly and went to the fridge.
She gathered the items mentioned and went to the chair at the far end of the island. A place had already been set for her. Ash felt a little smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Never had this happen to me before,” she thought to herself. “Maybe it’s a dream. Maybe I’m not really here. Maybe I’m in a coma and still in the hospital. ‘Cuz this kind of stuff doesn’t happen to people like me.” Ash quickly frowned at her here own negative thoughts. “That’s right, go and piss on everything good! Go ahead back to being your old angry Ash,” she scolded herself.
“Can,” Ash cleared her throat and decided to make the most of her temporary sanctuary regardless of it were dream or reality, “Can I get you anything, Mrs. Pretty?”
Without looking up, Mrs. Pretty answered, “I thought you were going to call me Beth? And, thank you but I’m all set for right now. Sit and enjoy your fruit.”
Ash took her seat feeling a slight blush in her cheeks. She really was going to have to work at remembering to call Mrs. Pretty Beth. Interacting with adults was in no way second nature to her yet. There was so much for her to remember.
“Embrace new things, embrace new things,” she chanted to herself as a mantra to get her over the awkward feelings that rose up with each such encounter.
Beth scribbled some notes. She moved the dolls this way and that. Then she scratched out half the writing on the paper. She let out a heavy sigh and moved the dolls back to their original positions.
“What’cha doin’ there…,” Ash grinned, “Beth.”
Beth gave a chuckle as she looked over at Lindsey for the first time. Slouching back in the chair, she seemed to be taking her time thinking of the correct response.
“I’m working on a script for the show. Well, I’m trying to work on a script for the show but so far I’ve only come up with a bunch of false starts. The beginning of the season is so much easier to put together. When I get down to the last two or three shows, I’m about out of steam.” Beth gave a half smile, “Particularly this year.”
“You write the show too?” Ashe asked in amazement.
Beth snorted out a hearty laugh, “What’d you think they hired me for my stunning good looks?”
Ash nodded in the affirmative.
“No, my looks had nothing to do with getting the show,” Beth stated slightly defensively. “I have a master’s degree in English and my undergraduate degree is in theater arts. I developed the show as part of doctoral thesis on using a mass media to bring literature to children.”
“Wow! You have a doctorate?” Ash asked.
Beth shook her head, “Nope. An executive at public TV agreed review my thesis outline to make sure it was plausible. He liked the concept and the next thing I knew I was in front of a camera doing a show instead of writing about doing a show.” Beth smirked, “Kind of boring, huh?”
“No way,” Ash was enthusiastic. “I love to hear how people get where they are. How else can I figure out the right way to go?”
Beth blinked. She scribbled some notes. Then she moved the dolls this way and that again. However, this time she gave a big smile.
“Lindsey, brainstorm with me.”
“What?” Ash asked around a mouthful of fruit.
Beth focused on the dolls as she spoke, “I’m going to do a walk through with my friends here and you jump in with questions or observations. Here goes!”
All Ash could do was nod as she swallowed the too big mouthful.
“I’m in the kitchen with our chef, Al LeCart…,”
“Is that really his name?” Ash asked something she always wondered about as a child.
“His first name is Al,” Beth scribbled several more notes. “Al is going to tell us about his love of cooking and how he first became interested in being a chef.”
“Is he really a chef?” Ash was suspicious.
“He studied in France and Spain and he owns restaurants in Boston and Providence…,” Beth raced to write her notes and keep pace with the conversation.
“I bet kids would love to see pictures of him at work in his own kitchens or maybe at home and what the heck does the big hat have to do with cooking?” Ash was on a roll.
Beth was laughing as she ticked off the list she had written, “twenty-three, twenty four, twenty five, more than enough time for a segment between intro and…,”
Ash exclaimed, “And, in runs Puddles!”
Ash had remembered with a sudden flash how each of Mrs. Pretty’s segments ended. A cartoon dog would come running in with his leash in his mouth needing to go out. Mrs. Pretty and her guest would do classic comic pratfalls trying to get the dog out the door in time.
The both women were laughing at the images from their shared memories but the joy was short lived. Ash’s eyes went wide when she heard the click of claws on the linoleum. A large triangle shaped head poked around the corner of the island. Two giant brown eyes greeted her and yawned revealing bright white, sharp teeth.
Ash fell over backwards off the chair. She scrambled across the kitchen floor trying to put room between herself and the dog. She found her way to the corner next to the refrigerator and cowered. Shaking all over, Ash was unable to stop her sobs.
“Lindsey,” Beth’s voice was near and soft. “Lindsey, I put Puddles outside. He can’t get back in. It’s okay to come back to the table.”
Ash listened to the tone of voice as much as the words to help recover her senses. Ash opened her eyes and looked around. She didn’t see the dog. Beth was next to her waiting. She held out a hand. Lindsey moved to accept the offering and realized, in shear horror, she had urinated in her pants out of total panic.
Before Lindsey could speak, Beth took her hand, “Let’s get you cleaned up. I have to get a wash started so we might as well get these jeans in there as well.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” it was all Lindsey could manage to mumble between her tears.
“It’s my fault, Lindsey. I just assume everybody knows I have a dog. Don’t worry, you won’t have to see him again,” Beth guided Lindsey back to the guest room. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want but if you need to talk…,”
Lindsey recognized the strategy. Countless doctors, nurses, social workers, play therapist, and teachers, had used it to try to get the girl to open up about her childhood trauma. Ash never gave them the satisfaction of hearing from her first hand about the abuse she endured. She let them try to piece her history together from medical records and scars. It was her childish version of FUCK YOU to the system that left her unsupervised in sadists’ hands for years on end.
“My Mom’s pimp had a dog,” Lindsey began once in the safety of the guest bathroom.
“What kind of dog?” Beth tried to sound casual but there was a strain in her voice as she helped Lindsey out of her soiled clothes.
“Germ…German shepherd,” Lindsey stuttered. “When I was a bad girl…when I did the wrong thing…he let the dog loose.”
“The dog hurt you.” Beth asked as she handed a warm face cloth to Lindsey so she could clean herself.
“Scratches. Bites. But it was the barking that was the worst.” Lindsey spoke as Beth helped her into a pair of clean warm sweat pants. “I’d be running and the dog would chase me barking like crazy. Then the pimp would yell some special word and the dog would tackle me.”
Lindsey felt two soft hands on her cheeks, “Lindsey, nothing like that is going to happen to you here.”
Lindsey could only nod at the sincerity in Beth’s voice. She didn’t really believe the woman but she so wanted to.
“So you’re just gonna leave your dog outside until I’m well enough to leave?” Ash questioned.
“Lindsey, if I need to give Puddles away so you’re comfortable here then I’ll do it,” Beth gave a matter of fact answer.
Lindsey was stunned, “Why would you do that for me?”
“You’re my step daughter. You’re a human being. You deserve to be treated with respect and consideration.” Beth took a deep breath before continuing, “You should never have to live in fear.”
Lindsey stared at Beth for a few minutes. She wondered what the woman was really angling to get to. Unable to figure out any motive other then genuine concern, Lindsey felt a pang of regret.
“Don’t send Puddles away. Maybe he and I can, you know, work it out between us.” Lindsey shrugged, “Or at least stay on different schedules.”
Beth wrapped and arm around Lindsey’s shoulders as she led the girl back to the kitchen, “I think Puddles would love the chance to get to know you, Lindsey.”
