Life According to Lucy

“Then that makes two of us,” he said softly, and climbed into the truck. If you come up with any answers, be sure to let me know.

Lucy watched Greg drive off and waited for the overheated feeling inside her to vanish. She’d obviously been alone too long if an arrogant geek like Greg could make her all hot and bothered. With any luck she’d have a job on the other side of town Monday and she wouldn’t see him at all.

She went back inside and found Dad gathering up his keys and wallet. “Dad, where are you going?”

“I’m meeting a friend for brunch.”

She sniffed the air. The distinct smell of Brut wafted over her. “The same friend you were with last night?”

He grinned. “No, a different one.” He kissed her cheek. “See you later.”

“Great, my dad has a better social life than I do.” Millie didn’t offer any sympathy this time. She was still staring after Lucy’s dad, a funny look on her face.

Lucy decided to call shelters. Not that she really wanted anyone to claim Millie, but she figured she had to make an effort, in case the pup was some child’s dog. She didn’t want to be responsible for some kid crying herself to sleep every night for the next week.

“Hello, Noah’s Ark? I have a poodle that wandered into my yard last night…. It’s a toy poodle, about fifteen pounds…Her hair is orange. Well, not really orange, sort of pinkish orange…. Oh, all right then, apricot…. No one’s reported a missing apricot toy poodle? Thank you.” She left her number, just in case, and moved on to the next listing.

Six shelters and not one had a report of a missing apricot poodle. She set down the phone and smiled at Millie. “Well, girl, looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

“Woof!”

So now should she spend a Saturday morning home alone doing laundry, or should she try to scare up a little fun? As if the washing machine wouldn’t still be there tomorrow. She decided to do something productive—her nails. She was adding the second coat of Marvelous Mauve when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing answering the phone at your parents’ house? Is something wrong?”

“Hello, Gloria.” She rolled her eyes. Gloria Alvarez was her oldest and dearest friend, and the one person who wouldn’t let her get away with anything. “Why are you calling my parents’ house?”

“I called your number and got a recording that said it had been disconnected. Then I tried your cell and no one answered. I stopped by your place and there’s some old guy with no teeth sitting in your living room.”

“It’s not my living room anymore.”

“What? You got a roommate?”

“No, I’ve been evicted.”

“Evicted? Kopetsky did that to you? How dare he!”

She smiled. That was Gloria for you. Ready to leap to a friend’s defense without a second thought. If Lucy let her, Gloria would be organizing a picket line to patrol the sidewalk in front of her old apartment and writing irate letters to the Houston Chronicle. “I think it had something to do with the fact that my rent checks kept bouncing.”

“Oh.” A long silence while she pictured Gloria taking a slug on her extra-large chai with soy milk. “Listen, if you’re a little short right now, I could loan you—”

“That’s okay. I appreciate it, but I’m doing okay. Really. I just need to keep track of things better.” And maybe cut down on shopping…but no, she’d catch up on everything as soon as she found a real job again.

“So where are you living now? I’d offer you a place, but with Dennis and the girls there’s no room.” Dennis was Gloria’s boyfriend, a struggling comedian who supplemented his income by teaching at a comedy defensive driving school. The idea was, if people had to sit through eight hours of traffic laws and driving techniques, at least make it entertaining. Dennis might never have a future on stage, but his presentation of the top ten ways to avoid a traffic ticket had people rolling in the aisles. The girls were a pair of greyhounds Gloria adopted from a rescue organization. Their names were Sand and Sable, tall elegant dogs that looked almost comical walking alongside short, round Gloria.

“That’s okay. I have a place to live.”

“Where? Don’t tell me you moved in with that musician. I told you he’s no good for you.”

“That musician” was an angst-ridden aspiring country star Lucy had dated for a few weeks. He only knew three chords on the guitar and he sang with a twang that would peel paint, but he looked spectacular in a pair of starched jeans and a cowboy hat, so Lucy had no doubt he’d go far. Gloria had hated him on sight.

Gloria hated all the men Lucy dated. She claimed to be able to read in the tarot cards that these men weren’t good enough for her friend. Maybe she was right, since no man had been good for her yet. “No, I moved back home. Just until I get back on my feet again.”

She was sure Gloria would have lots to say on this subject, none of it good, but her friend surprised her. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “It’s healthy to get back to your roots sometimes. Home is a good place to heal.”

“Gloria, I’m not sick.”

“Maybe not physically, but spiritually—Listen, I have a new book to lend you. It’s called Karmic Healing and the woman who wrote it…”

Lucy sort of tuned out the rest of what Gloria had to say. So sue her. Gloria had a new theory about life every week. She was into crystals, fortune telling, feng shui, aura reading and ancient Native American rituals. Only last week, she’d told Lucy ten different ways to realign her chakras.

As for Lucy, if a theory didn’t involve shopping or chocolate, she wasn’t interested. “I have to go, Gloria. I, uh, I think someone’s at the door.”

“Wait, wait. I have to tell you the reason I called. My friend Jean has a booth at the downtown art fair and I told her I’d stop by. Wanna come?”

“Sure. I’m into art.” Anything was better than washing her father’s shorts. “And afterwards maybe we could swing by the mall….”

Gloria laughed. “Okay. Pick me up in half an hour.”

4

Making simple matters complex or complex matters simple are both bad gardening techniques.

LUCY LEFT MILLIE with a breakfast of canned tuna and a fresh bowl of water. She made a mental note to buy dog food and something more substantial than dry cereal for herself while she was out today. After she’d backed the car out of the garage, she glanced back and the dog was watching her out the window like an abandoned child. I don’t need this kind of guilt, she thought.

Gloria and Dennis shared a duplex off Gessner. It was one of those areas of the city that used to be run-down but was now trendy. Slick new apartments sat side by side with sagging bungalows. Gloria claimed this gave the neighborhood character. Personally, Lucy thought it meant paying high taxes and still having to dodge the crack-house traffic on weekends.

But Gloria and Dennis had fixed up their place and it looked real nice, if you didn’t mind purple burglar bars on the downstairs windows and a red front door. When Lucy pressed the door bell, she set off frantic barking, accompanied by the scrabble of toenails on the hardwood floors. Gloria opened the door and Sand and Sable launched themselves at Lucy with all the enthusiasm of body surfers in a mosh pit. She fended off doggy kisses and lashes from doggy tails. “Yes, I’m thrilled to see y’all too,” she said as Gloria dragged them by the collars back into the house.

Dennis appeared in the hallway, a container of instant ramen noodles in his hand. “Hey, Lucy. What are you chicks up to?” Like many men in their late twenties and early thirties, Dennis had his hair cut very short in an attempt to disguise the fact that he was going bald. Unfortunately, he also had rather large ears, one of which sported a gold loop. When he wore a white T-shirt, as he did now, he bore a startling resemblance to Mr. Clean.

“I told you, we’re going over to see Jean’s display at the art festival.” Gloria made a face at Lucy. “He never listens.”

“I listen.” He stabbed at the noodles. “I just don’t agree that what Jean does is art.” He pointed the forkful of quivering noodles at her. “She makes collages out of garbage.”

“It’s found art,” Gloria corrected.

“Garbage.”

Lucy hated it when her friends fought. She never knew what to say and besides, the argument was usually over something really uninteresting. It wasn’t as if she could actually get involved in the conversation. “How did it go at the Laugh Stop last night?” she asked Dennis.

“Lame crowd.” He spoke around a mouthful of ramen. “They wouldn’t know funny if it bit ‘em in the ass.” He dropped the fork into the ramen container and set it on the hall table. “Gotta go. Got a class this afternoon.” He aimed a kiss in the direction of Gloria’s cheek. “Catch you chicks later.”

When he was gone, Lucy helped Gloria put the girls in the backyard. “How was your first night back at home?” Gloria asked.

“Okay, I guess.” She waited while Gloria locked the various deadbolts on her front door. “My dad went out on a date.”