Gaits of Heaven

exactly cherished, so I had no intention of speaking about them, and, as for lessons she’d taught me, what could I possibly say? Never buy a dog on the Internet ? I hadn’t learned that one from Eumie. I’d known it for a long time. Still, although Thursday evenings were usually sacred to the training of the Sacred Animal, I e-mailed back an acceptance. Caprice would have to attend, and she couldn’t be allowed to go unprotected.
    Leah, who’d been up early, returned from work at five o’clock. Her face bare of makeup, her red-gold hair tumbling from a ponytail, she looked healthy and beautiful and was bubbling with exciting news about hyperthyroid cats, hypothyroid dogs, and two healthy ferrets who’d been at the clinic for routine exams but were nonetheless noteworthy because of their charm. Leah changed out of her green scrubs and into shorts and a T-shirt, and left to take Kimi for a run. Caprice was evidently still in bed. The contrast between her lethargy and Leah’s energy was worrisome. If sleep was Caprice’s means of handling loss and stress, it was preferable, I thought, to overeating and to a great many other possible coping mechanisms. Did she always go to bed early, sleep late, and nap for most of the afternoon? Or was the pattern a response to her mother’s unnatural death? I had no idea. Did she have a chronic illness? Or, as I’d wondered earlier, could she be drugging herself into oblivion? I’d ask Rita, who was going to have dinner with us. Steve’s clinic was open until nine on Wednesday evenings, so I’d be cooking for only four people. If it hadn’t been for Caprice, we’d probably have had nature’s most perfect food, pizza, but I couldn’t bring myself to serve Caprice something so high in calories. On the other hand, tonight’s vegetable would not be green beans, squash, or any other dog-weight-loss staple, either, even though Rita kept herself on a permanent diet. As I was about to leave for our local whole-foods market, Loaves and Fishes, Caprice made her way downstairs.
    “I’m running out to get food for dinner. I thought we’d have a big salad with shrimp, if that’s okay.”
    “Anything is fine,” she said. “I think I might take another shower, if that’s all right. It might help me wake up. And I need to check my e-mail.”
    “Whatever you want. Leah has gone running, so she’ll want a shower, too, but she can use the bathroom on the first floor. If you want to use your notebook, there are a lot of phone jacks. Help yourself. Or you’re welcome to use my computer, but it’s in my study, which is where my cat, Tracker, lives, so please be careful not to let her out.” I explained about Rowdy and Kimi, showed her where my study was, and warned her about Tracker’s sour disposition and tendency toward aggression. “And our friend Rita will be here for dinner. She lives on the third floor. I’ll be back in no time.” I paused. “And you should know that Ted is planning a memorial service for tomorrow evening. Eight o’clock.”
    Caprice made a face. “I don’t believe in death parties. And at eight o’clock? I’ll tell you what he’s doing. He’s trying to drum up business for himself. Referrals.”
    “You don’t have to go.”
    “I do.”
    “For what it’s worth, I said I’d go. We can go together.“
    “Thank you.”
    I left for Loaves and Fishes, did the shopping, and returned to find that Leah and Caprice weren’t going to be home for dinner after all. A friend of Leah’s who was staying in Cambridge for the summer had called for help in moving to an apartment, and Leah had not only volunteered but was taking Caprice along. Pizza was part of the deal. Out of Caprice’s hearing, I protested: “Caprice is in mourning.” But Leah said, “What do you want her to do? Hang around with you and Rita? Stay in her room? She needs to get out. It’ll be good for her.”
    In fact, the prospect of doing anything seemed to energize Caprice, who helped Leah to move the crates out of my car, which Leah was borrowing to help with the move. Soon after Leah and Caprice left, Rita showed up. I had just finished emptying the refrigerator, freezer, and cupboards of ice cream, cookies, chocolate, and other horror foods that I didn’t want Caprice to know I was purging. I supplied Rita with a gin and tonic and myself with a glass of Australian Shiraz, and worked on the salad. Rita sat at the kitchen table with her feet propped up on a chair. She’d