raft and told me to climb aboard. I explained that Junior and I wanted to cross together. The man refused. “Take him first, then,” I said.
“You don’t want him alone with that one,” said the man.
“He’s not what you think,” I said.
“Look at his face,” said the man.
I sighed and stepped on the raft. Junior burst into tears, and I implored him to have faith. The raft was unsteady, and despite my words, I was nervous as it rocked back and forth. The man had a long pole to grip the mud below. “I know what I am doing,” he told me. “There are alligators in the water, by the way.”
When we reached the other side, I stepped into Mexico. I had left all my papers behind so that if I was caught now, I would not be sent home. I sat down cross-legged and watched as the man returned for Junior. I held my breath. My brother climbed aboard nervously, slowly. The raft leaned to the side but righted itself. In a matter of minutes, Junior was in my arms. Ernesto stood behind us as Junior and I embraced. “Now the train,” said Ernesto.
“Now The Beast,” said Junior with excitement.
“Now The Beast,” agreed Ernesto. He did not smile.
20
Alice
J AKE WAS STILL asleep when I got home with Pete. (I’d quickly changed the pup’s name from Justin Bieber to Pete, after Pete’s Candy Store, the Brooklyn bar where Jake and I had shared our first beers.) Camilla and the girls stood at our doorway with their hands at their mouths, and I set my little guy down and watched him approach my big guy. Pete sniffed the floor. I am embarrassed to say I wondered, in that moment, if he could smell the longing that had permeated our house, perhaps the last traces of the bottle of baby formula that Jake had mixed in the middle of the night, spilling a bit on the floor. I wondered if Pete would want to stay with us on Mildred Street, if anyone ever would stay. But he lifted his head and ran to the couch, springing up and jamming his snout under Jake’s wrist, looking for a scratch.
Jake jerked awake. “What?” he said.
“Surprise!” I cried, and Ella and Bella chimed in, “Surprise!”
“Am I dreaming?” asked Jake.
I shook my head, stupidly bursting into tears. “It’s Pete,” I managed. “He’s ours. Pete, after Pete’s Candy Store.”
“Oh my God,” said Jake, pulling the dog onto his lap and leaning down. Cradling the dog, it must be said, like a child. “Hey, buddy,” he said. “Hey, buddy!” Pete barked and licked Jake’s face. “Where did you come from?” asked Jake.
“I adopted him,” I said.
“At the no-kill shelter !” cried Ella (or maybe Bella).
“Congratulations on your new arrival,” said Camilla. “It’s time for us to go have supper now. Ciao, Pete. Say ciao, girls.”
The girls said goodbye and waved, complaining as their mother dragged them away.
Jake was beaming. “He’s so awesome,” he said. “I mean, come on! He’s perfect. Part Bernese mountain dog, right? And part …?”
“Who knows?” I said.
“He’s ours,” said Jake, but it sounded like a question.
“Yes.”
“Oh my God,” said Jake again. “We’ve got to take him for a walk! We’ve got to buy dog food! We need a bowl, and a dog bed, honey! Where’s he going to sleep?”
I shook my head, laughter spilling from my mouth.
Pete jumped to the floor, and Jake picked me up, spun me around. “I love you!” he said. “I love my dog!”
I held on to Jake. He was so warm and so alive. And then we headed (with Pete) to the pet store.
That night, as Jake paged through The Art of Raising a Puppy by the monks of New Skete (recommended by the clerk at Book People as the best guide around) and Pete sniffed out his new crate, I checked my messages. Principal Markson had called, telling me that she’d stopped by the Claiborne Street trailer and Evian’s mom had raved about the wonderful afternoon Evian and I had shared. I thought this was odd, as I’d never even met Evian’s
“You don’t want him alone with that one,” said the man.
“He’s not what you think,” I said.
“Look at his face,” said the man.
I sighed and stepped on the raft. Junior burst into tears, and I implored him to have faith. The raft was unsteady, and despite my words, I was nervous as it rocked back and forth. The man had a long pole to grip the mud below. “I know what I am doing,” he told me. “There are alligators in the water, by the way.”
When we reached the other side, I stepped into Mexico. I had left all my papers behind so that if I was caught now, I would not be sent home. I sat down cross-legged and watched as the man returned for Junior. I held my breath. My brother climbed aboard nervously, slowly. The raft leaned to the side but righted itself. In a matter of minutes, Junior was in my arms. Ernesto stood behind us as Junior and I embraced. “Now the train,” said Ernesto.
“Now The Beast,” said Junior with excitement.
“Now The Beast,” agreed Ernesto. He did not smile.
20
Alice
J AKE WAS STILL asleep when I got home with Pete. (I’d quickly changed the pup’s name from Justin Bieber to Pete, after Pete’s Candy Store, the Brooklyn bar where Jake and I had shared our first beers.) Camilla and the girls stood at our doorway with their hands at their mouths, and I set my little guy down and watched him approach my big guy. Pete sniffed the floor. I am embarrassed to say I wondered, in that moment, if he could smell the longing that had permeated our house, perhaps the last traces of the bottle of baby formula that Jake had mixed in the middle of the night, spilling a bit on the floor. I wondered if Pete would want to stay with us on Mildred Street, if anyone ever would stay. But he lifted his head and ran to the couch, springing up and jamming his snout under Jake’s wrist, looking for a scratch.
Jake jerked awake. “What?” he said.
“Surprise!” I cried, and Ella and Bella chimed in, “Surprise!”
“Am I dreaming?” asked Jake.
I shook my head, stupidly bursting into tears. “It’s Pete,” I managed. “He’s ours. Pete, after Pete’s Candy Store.”
“Oh my God,” said Jake, pulling the dog onto his lap and leaning down. Cradling the dog, it must be said, like a child. “Hey, buddy,” he said. “Hey, buddy!” Pete barked and licked Jake’s face. “Where did you come from?” asked Jake.
“I adopted him,” I said.
“At the no-kill shelter !” cried Ella (or maybe Bella).
“Congratulations on your new arrival,” said Camilla. “It’s time for us to go have supper now. Ciao, Pete. Say ciao, girls.”
The girls said goodbye and waved, complaining as their mother dragged them away.
Jake was beaming. “He’s so awesome,” he said. “I mean, come on! He’s perfect. Part Bernese mountain dog, right? And part …?”
“Who knows?” I said.
“He’s ours,” said Jake, but it sounded like a question.
“Yes.”
“Oh my God,” said Jake again. “We’ve got to take him for a walk! We’ve got to buy dog food! We need a bowl, and a dog bed, honey! Where’s he going to sleep?”
I shook my head, laughter spilling from my mouth.
Pete jumped to the floor, and Jake picked me up, spun me around. “I love you!” he said. “I love my dog!”
I held on to Jake. He was so warm and so alive. And then we headed (with Pete) to the pet store.
That night, as Jake paged through The Art of Raising a Puppy by the monks of New Skete (recommended by the clerk at Book People as the best guide around) and Pete sniffed out his new crate, I checked my messages. Principal Markson had called, telling me that she’d stopped by the Claiborne Street trailer and Evian’s mom had raved about the wonderful afternoon Evian and I had shared. I thought this was odd, as I’d never even met Evian’s
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