Layla
“Elliot, I want a puppy,” I said turning over on to my side up onto an elbow. His face was burrowed into the crook of his arm; all that was visible was a froth of curls and the tender brown skin of his neck.
“You want what,” he mumbled, voice muddled with sleep.
“A puppy, a puppy, a puppy, I want a dog,” I said with sharp emphasis, poking him in the ribs. I got lonely waiting at the Lake for Elliot to get back from work with Leon and Billy. I wanted company.
“Ugh, knock it off, I’m still asleep, it’s Saturday for Pete’s sake, let me sleep in on my day off.” Elliot rolled away as far away from me as he could into the green wall of the tent.
“Oh, come on Elliot, get up please,” I pleaded. Then I scooted right up next to him and although I had I stopped prodding him, my hand still hovered over his back. I began lazily tracing letters on his skin.
“Stop touching me,” Elliot grumbled, burying his face further into the crook of his elbow.
I giggled. Then I traced out the letters for, puppy on his back.
“Hmmm, I wonder what you are trying to spell, puck?”
“Try again, Elliot.” My breath stuck in my throat, hitching a little, the warmth of his skin under my hand distracting me from my mission. I leaned forward my mouth involuntarily drawn to his body.
“Umm, oh, I got it, a pup tent! Well shoot, Carmen, I thought you rather liked our current tent, but I suppose we could upgrade.” He rolled over exposing rose-colored nipples that sat vulnerable and puckered in the sparse hair on his chest.
He eyed me, “you’re not going to let me sleep, are you?”
I shook my head negatively.
He sighend and crossed his arms over his chest, but I could tell he was trying not to smile. “What is it you want?”
“A puppy,” I said very soft, very low, and almost under my breath, mouthing the letters.
“A puppy,” I repeated drumming my fingers on his taut concave stomach, brown from days outside—two weeks now of crewing with Billy and Elliot and his was baked browner than a walnut and all his body hair was bleached blonde. He looked like he was covered in a fine dusting of pollen, a golden soft halo of sun always seemed to follow him.
“Wait, did I hear you right,” he said looking up at me with a wry smile curling across his mouth, “did you say guppy?”
“Ugh,” I threw my hand up in despair. I turned around and looked at my toes, they were brown and dusty, a white tan line demarcating an arrow across the tops of my feet from my flip-flops.
“Jesus, Carmen, if you want a fish all you have to do is go down to the Lake, although God only knows why you’d want on of those mercury infested monsters.”
“Puppy!” I hollered and launched myself at him. He ducked away, and then grabbed me around my waist. He rolled me over and pinned me down onto the dusty sleeping bag. I could feel the hard sheet of plywood underneath that provided a barrier between our backs and the sharp coral rock where we slept. It had been a suggestion that Michael, ‘King of the Lake,’ had told us would keep the rocks from cutting into our backs.
I squirmed fiercely under his weight. I tried bucking him off, but he had me pinned down, I raised my hips and thrashed around underneath him, but he just rode up and settled back down more securely.
“You done yet?” He wasn’t even bothering to use his hands, he had them crossed over his chest, just his knees resting snug against my shoulders. I jerked my hands out suddenly and pummeled his chest.
“I want a puppy, Elliot, I’m bored and lonely when you’re working if I reread The Vampire Lestat one more time I’m going to slit my wrists.” My mom had me given the book in hardcover, as well as money in a card, to me for my birthday. I felt vaguely guilty every time I re-read it. My mom had no clue where I was and she had probably stood in line at Canterbury Books in Madison for hours to get Anne Rice’s signature on the cover leaf.
Elliot grabbed my flailing hands and pinned them above my head.
“So, you want a puppy, you don’t say?” He grinned evilly at me.
“Elliot,” I said thrashing about harder, drumming my feet on the plywood, “don’t do it, don’t! Don’t! Don’t! No!”
Elliot was leaned over me still holding down my hands with his face directly above mine, a long chain of spittle dangling from his mouth. I whipped my head back and forth trying to avoid being drooled on.
“Ew, oh god, oh gross.” The spit was bare centimeters from my face. Elliot suddenly sucked up the drool then quickly swooped down on me and licked my face.
“Oh my god, stop it, icky! Damn it! Elliot knock it off!”
“What? Come on Martines, a puppy’s going to lick you and drool and slobber all over you, are you sure you want a little slobber monster?” He licked the other side of my face. “It will also probably pee all over you too.”
“ELLIOT!”
He leaned up and smiled, “yes?”
I stared at hard, him panting and began to speak, and then quickly shut my mouth.
“What, are you ready to say ‘uncle’ yet, or do I have to really drool on you?”
“No.”
“No what?”
“No, I’m not going to say uncle.” I turned my head and buried it as far into my shoulder as I could. I mumbled something into my armpit.
“What was that, you want to surrender? What did you say? Louder, please.”
I whipped my head out of my arm and glared at him, “I want you to kiss me.” I hated asking him to kiss me, loathed it, despised it, it infuriated me that I had to ask. Worse yet, I could not stop myself from asking. The sex at the motel had not coalesced again, with the exception of a few brief make out sessions. We had not talked about what it meant to either of us, the sex, the lack there of, or the infrequent kisses that blew out of nowhere like a tropical storm and then disappeared, whipping my heart all over the place not knowing where to seek shelter or what to say until it happened again.
Elliot looked down at me and blinked slowly.
“Oh, never mind,” I said between gritted teeth. “Just get off me, you fucker. I don’t want you and I don’t want a stupid dog either. Now get off!”
Tears stood in my eyes, hot and furious, I shook my head, I’d rather be spit on than cry in front of him. Elliot let go of my hands and I socked him in the stomach. “Get off me asshole.” I shoved him in the chest.
He caught my hands flat against his chest and trapped them there. I felt his heart boom under my palms. He bent from the waist forward and then leaned in and down, keeping my hands locked against his body. He kissed the corner of my mouth, soft, sweet, and tentatively.
I froze.
Then he kissed the opposite side of my mouth. My body relaxed and my fingers rose up his chest and dipped gently into the ledge of his clavicles, my thumbs pressed lightly down in the hollow of his throat. His hips pushed against mine. I could feel him erect and crooked against the crease where my leg joined my body. He looked at me, I up at him. I raised my shoulders up off the plywood reaching with my mouth to his, but he held himself just beyond my deprived mouth.
I sighed in supplication. He kissed the tip of my nose. I moaned undulating my hips into his, “please, oh please, please kiss me.”
He kissed my forehead.
“You are so mean,” I whispered.
He shook his head at me and smiled, then he closed his eyes and brushed my lips with his mouth. He was sweet like nectarines and salty at the same time, like pulled salt-water taffy. His tongue slowly lolled over my teeth, tapping each one gently, playfully stroking me softly and insistently.
I gasped at the intoxication of his lips and then down bit lightly at him, nipping his mouth.
He groaned and crushed his mouth to mine. I kissed him back fiercely. And the sun rose higher in the sky. The fish swam laps around the Lake. Cars passed unnoticed outside the hooch. Clots of clouds drifted above. Elliot breathed me in and I breathed him out. My hands clenched in his opening and closing like star flowers. I tried to push his hands down onto my breasts; he ignored my demands and kept kissing me. I tried again. He sighed, shifted tightly, his entire body tensing, then he abruptly stopped, pulling quickly away from me.
“Come on Martines, let’s go get you a dog.” He backed away from me and got up, walked away and outside. I heard him urinate down by the Lake.
“Fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you!” I lay heaving with pent-up hormones winging through my body, oozing out my skin. I closed my eyes, drew in a few deep breaths and composed myself.
Driving down the highway, past the Coral Castle, past the Home Depot with its lines of men queued up along the drive with signs on cardboard: “Carpenter for hire, cheap,” “Roofer,” “Plumber,” “Dry Waller.” Then on down past the K-Mart and the Rite Aid drugstore. Finally turning into a parking lot next to the ubiquitous Circle K.
“I think this is the place,” Elliot said looking at the scrawled map he had drawn on the backside of a newspaper advertisement. We had picked it up at the market along with cigarettes, splurging on Pall Malls and Camels. Elliot had gotten paid again for another full week of work—under the table and in cash. I, however, was still out of work and decided to look through the want ads for a job in a bar or restaurant. We had seen the large banner for the SPCA hung above a trailer in a lot next to the Sonic Burger we liked to frequent, I had gotten the idea for the puppy from the shelter’s sign.
Elliot wheeled the Datsun alongside the trailer. It was a temporary unit for the Miami Dade County SPCA Humane Society. The day had barely begun and already the heat was rippling up off the asphalt. I could not imagine that the animals inside could be very happy, even with the air conditioner above the door frantically pumping out the facility.
I bounded out of the car, “Come on Elliot,” I said and raced up the steps. I knocked on the door to the trailer and pushed it open at the same time, then stepped into a vat of muggy damp dog soup. I gagged at the smell, urine, canines, feces, fur; the trailer had very bad ventilation.
“Hi there,” a female voice rang out from the desk directly to the right of the door, “can I help you?”
“Yes,” I said eagerly, to the woman with brown hair and glasses sifting through a pile of manilla folders on the desk. “We’re looking to adopt a puppy.” Elliot had quietly slid in the door and was standing just behind me looking toward the kennels. The dogs had begun to bark and whine in their cages when we entered.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said the woman, “we don’t have any puppies right not, it’s not puppy season.”
“What,” I asked crestfallen, “what do you mean, you don’t have any?”
“Well, they’re not in season,” said the woman. “Dogs only have about two, maybe three heats a year, so you really only get puppy’s twice a year. And right now we’re sort of in between that time, so no puppies. But we have lots of lovely dogs that could really use a good home.”
“Oh,” I said in a quiet voice. “Ok,” then I turned away from the desk. “Come on Elliot, let’s go.”
“Hang on a second, Carmen, let’s at least look,” said Elliot. “We’re here, might as well take a gander.”
He went ahead of me down the middle of the trailer peering to the left and right. The he stopped, squatting down outside the kennel of a medium-sized dog with black fur, white chest, and white socks.
“What about this one here? She’s pretty cute.” Elliot leaned in, “ain’t cha girl, you’re a good girl, I can tell.” The dog had come up to the door of the kennel and was licking Elliot’s hand.
“Elliot,” I said petulantly, trying not to pout and failing. “I want a puppy, not a full-grown dog, I want a baby that we can train right from the beginning, not a dog whose bad habits we don’t know.” I didn’t even bother to walk away from the door; I stood halfway out the threshold, about to go down the steps. I was ready to get out of the smell and go back to the Lake.
“Ah, come on Carmen, at least say hello to her.” Elliot said and cocked his head at me, puppy dog looks from two different sets of eyes.
“Ugh. Fine.” I turned away from the door and walked back into the trailer and down the narrow hallway to where he was squatting.
“Look,” he said, “isn’t she pretty, she has such soft fur, and this star on her chest.”
“How do you know it’s a she?”
“Well, just look at those eyes, of course she’s a she, it’s obvious.” If dogs could bat their eyelashes, she did.
The woman at the front desk called back to us. “Your boyfriend’s right, she’s a girl. Border collie, three, maybe four, I’m almost a hundred percent sure pure bred. In fact, I’m surprised no one’s claimed her yet.”
“What do you think?” Elliot asked again, he had not pulled his hand out from the cage and was now petting the Border Collie underneath the her chin. Her eyes pleaded with me. His eyes pleaded with me.
I stood up quickly, steeling myself, “No.” I said firmly, “I want a puppy.”
“Fine,” said Elliot shrugging his shoulders and withdrawing his hand, “sorry girl.” He looked at the dog sadly.
The dog thumped its tail and chuffed under its breath. My heart leapt up a little, but I was not going to be swayed and I turned away and walked to the door.
“Oh, now, are you sure,” asked the woman, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her respond that positively to anyone else.”
“I’m sure you say that to everyone,” I said trying to keep the edge of sarcasm out of my voice. The dog thumping it’s tail at me was not enough. I wanted more.
“No, actually I don’t, she’s not a dog that lets people approach her, usually she cowers at the back of the kennel. I’ve never seen her actually come up to the door of the cage, let alone allow some one to touch her.”
That would be Elliot and his magic.
“Oh,” I said softly chastised, I looked down at my feet. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to imply anything, I just, I just really had my heart set on getting a puppy.”
“That’s ok,” said the woman, “I completely understand, come back in a couple of months, we’ll be inundated.”
“Come on,” I said to Elliot, he was still sitting squatted down back by the dog.
I tried to not roll my eyes and I turned and walked outside, then the dog whined. I stepped down the top step and the dog barked once sharp and loud. My heart leapt again, I sighed and looked up at the blue sky without a single cloud drifting in it. Really?
“Fine,” I said, “you win.” I turned back into the trailer. Elliot and the dog both were grinning at me from down the hallway, two sets of wide eyes, two goofy wolfish grins.
“Oh alright.” I said throwing up my hand in exasperation. “ I guess we’ll be taking her.”
“Yeah, ya see girl, I told you we’d convince her,” Elliot tossed his hat up into the air and the dog barked again leaping about the cage ecstatically.
The woman smiled at us, “she really is a good girl, Border Collies are so smart and very, very loyal to their owners.”
“Great, just what I wanted a collie,” but I smiled and my heart finally settled down in my chest. We filled out the forms, using the address of the house that Elliot was working on with Billy and Leon as our place of residence. The woman never asked for proof of residence or to look at our driver licenses. She took Elliot’s $20 and put it in an envelope and pinned that to the outside of a folder. Then she opened the cage to the dog’s kennel and led her back to us. It took perhaps five minutes.
“What should we name her?” Elliot asked me as we pulled out of the parking lot.
The dog was perched on my lap. She felt good, not too heavy, but solid, compact, and sturdy. She also did not have a mangy dog smell to her, rather she smelled clean like straw and fresh swept earth, and something hinting at sweet, like clover grass. I held by arms around her and breathed in her subtle country perfume. She grinned and shoved her head under my chin. Then she licked my face.
“Ugh, stop it,” I said laughing. She kept right on licking my face. Elliot laughed too.
“I bet she’s hungry, whaddya say girl, want some lunch,” asked Elliot reaching over and patting her head. He pulled into the drive through of the golden arches. “Three double cheeseburger meals, two with Cokes and one with water.” We could not splurge on Sonic Burgers all the time.
“Ok girl, lunch time,” I said unwrapping the cheeseburger as we pulled away from the drive up window. I set it on the floor of the car. She nuzzled at the burger sniffing the meat for a few seconds. She licked at it, then nosed off the burger meat from the bun. She ate the bun, licked the cheese off the meat, even ate the pickles and the tiny minced onions, but she left the hamburger patty alone.
“Smart dog,” said Elliot.
“Layla,” I said suddenly with a wide smile, “her name is Layla.”
Layla barked in affirmation. It was a good day to be a dog.
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