into the backseat, and I took my place in the passenger seat.
“I’ve stowed the luggage,” David said, “so we’re all set.”
“Then there’s nothing keeping us here,” I said as David stepped on the gas.
We took the private road to the end and turned onto the main street. In a matter of moments, we’d left the neighborhood behind us. Then I heard myself say, “Stop! Immediately!”
David shot me a questioning look. “Why?”
“Just do it,” I said.
He slammed on the brakes, and I jumped out of the car even before he’d idled.
“Where are you going?” David and Emma called after me in unison. But I had no time to answer them.
Minutes later, I returned and opened the back door of the Citroën. Sticking my head inside, I told Emma, “Scoot over. No questions.” My voice sounded very decisive even to my own ears.
The black dog jumped into the backseat in one swoop. No longer wearing the spiked collar, he instead sported a midnight-blue Dior scarf made of the finest cashmere.
Carefully, I closed the door, calmly sat back down in my seat, and said, “What are you waiting for, David? Let’s go. You kno w . . . ” I pointed to my Cartier. “Tick-tock.”
20
D avid drove divinely. No sharp braking or too-hard turns with him at the wheel. Even when he drove through built-up areas, we moved smoothly, as though we were gliding on tracks. Amazingly, the car did its part, too—the suspension system absorbed every bump in the road. Sure, the car looked like hell and would probably fall apart soon. But traveling through this winter landscape in it was a unique pleasure.
I wasn’t used to getting up as early as we had, and after a while, I lolled in my seat, enjoying the snowy scenery and allowing my thoughts wander. Pictures, faces, and shapes appeared in my mind. The last thing I imagined was simply a color—a bright, intense pink.
Then I fell asleep.
Later, my head slid against the window and I woke up, rested and ready to go.
“Did you sleep well?” David asked.
“Wonderfully.” I stretched. “How long was I out?”
“A solid hour.”
I turned around to check on Emma. She sat bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and was using my good hairbrush on the dog. She smiled at me mischievously. “He loves this. I’ve been brushing him for a really long time.”
“With that brush?” I asked.
“Yeah. It has so many soft little spikes.”
“Natural bristles,” I said. “But you’re right that the dog needs it. His fur was very scruffy.”
David cleared his throat. “What’s your dog’s name, by the way?”
“Why do you ask me that? I don’t have a dog. I have no place for something like that in my life.”
“Oh,” David said. “And who does this black monster that’s drooling all over Emma belong to?”
“Baby is a free being. He doesn’t belong to anyone.”
“ Baby ? Your dog’s name is Baby ?”
“Again, he’s not my dog. But, yes, his name is Baby. He likes it.”
“Baby is hungry,” Emma said.
I turned back around. And, in fact, the dog was looking at me half-starved. He wasn’t the only one. Emma also had a wolfish look in her eyes.
“OK,” I said. “David, can you pull over?”
David and I got out on the side of the road and took all the minibar goodies out of my suitcase: chocolate bars, cookies, peanuts, chips, lemonade, juice, and water bottles. The schnapps was the only thing we scorned. We carried the loot into the Citroën and got back on the move.
David started his breakfast with a chocolate bar. Emma had peanuts. As for me, I began with granola cookies. And Baby loved the chips I gave him. We drank juice and cola. But we didn’t stick to one thing; instead we tried everything. And when we discovered that something was especially good, we let everyone else taste it—including Baby.
It soon looked like a garbage bag had exploded in the car. Countless wrappers lay all over the place.
“Papa,” said Emma as she shoved one of the last chocolate
“I’ve stowed the luggage,” David said, “so we’re all set.”
“Then there’s nothing keeping us here,” I said as David stepped on the gas.
We took the private road to the end and turned onto the main street. In a matter of moments, we’d left the neighborhood behind us. Then I heard myself say, “Stop! Immediately!”
David shot me a questioning look. “Why?”
“Just do it,” I said.
He slammed on the brakes, and I jumped out of the car even before he’d idled.
“Where are you going?” David and Emma called after me in unison. But I had no time to answer them.
Minutes later, I returned and opened the back door of the Citroën. Sticking my head inside, I told Emma, “Scoot over. No questions.” My voice sounded very decisive even to my own ears.
The black dog jumped into the backseat in one swoop. No longer wearing the spiked collar, he instead sported a midnight-blue Dior scarf made of the finest cashmere.
Carefully, I closed the door, calmly sat back down in my seat, and said, “What are you waiting for, David? Let’s go. You kno w . . . ” I pointed to my Cartier. “Tick-tock.”
20
D avid drove divinely. No sharp braking or too-hard turns with him at the wheel. Even when he drove through built-up areas, we moved smoothly, as though we were gliding on tracks. Amazingly, the car did its part, too—the suspension system absorbed every bump in the road. Sure, the car looked like hell and would probably fall apart soon. But traveling through this winter landscape in it was a unique pleasure.
I wasn’t used to getting up as early as we had, and after a while, I lolled in my seat, enjoying the snowy scenery and allowing my thoughts wander. Pictures, faces, and shapes appeared in my mind. The last thing I imagined was simply a color—a bright, intense pink.
Then I fell asleep.
Later, my head slid against the window and I woke up, rested and ready to go.
“Did you sleep well?” David asked.
“Wonderfully.” I stretched. “How long was I out?”
“A solid hour.”
I turned around to check on Emma. She sat bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and was using my good hairbrush on the dog. She smiled at me mischievously. “He loves this. I’ve been brushing him for a really long time.”
“With that brush?” I asked.
“Yeah. It has so many soft little spikes.”
“Natural bristles,” I said. “But you’re right that the dog needs it. His fur was very scruffy.”
David cleared his throat. “What’s your dog’s name, by the way?”
“Why do you ask me that? I don’t have a dog. I have no place for something like that in my life.”
“Oh,” David said. “And who does this black monster that’s drooling all over Emma belong to?”
“Baby is a free being. He doesn’t belong to anyone.”
“ Baby ? Your dog’s name is Baby ?”
“Again, he’s not my dog. But, yes, his name is Baby. He likes it.”
“Baby is hungry,” Emma said.
I turned back around. And, in fact, the dog was looking at me half-starved. He wasn’t the only one. Emma also had a wolfish look in her eyes.
“OK,” I said. “David, can you pull over?”
David and I got out on the side of the road and took all the minibar goodies out of my suitcase: chocolate bars, cookies, peanuts, chips, lemonade, juice, and water bottles. The schnapps was the only thing we scorned. We carried the loot into the Citroën and got back on the move.
David started his breakfast with a chocolate bar. Emma had peanuts. As for me, I began with granola cookies. And Baby loved the chips I gave him. We drank juice and cola. But we didn’t stick to one thing; instead we tried everything. And when we discovered that something was especially good, we let everyone else taste it—including Baby.
It soon looked like a garbage bag had exploded in the car. Countless wrappers lay all over the place.
“Papa,” said Emma as she shoved one of the last chocolate
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