Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

I got really depressed. I expected to find out that designer briefs had replaced my brother-in-law’s baggy boxers. Instead I discovered that my sister had nothing better to do than the laundry.

13

Frank Would Be So Proud

    I WOKE UP early enough to make a much-needed raid on Lisa’s apartment. Her workout clothes were getting a bit ripe, and unlike my sister Lillian, I had more pressing things to do than the wash.
    I took Dashiell to the strip of land along the river, now gussied up with benches and called a park, and let him run for a while. Then we headed for Lisa’s. When I unlocked the door, Dash made a beeline for the water bowl. I dumped Lisa’s mail on the small table near the door and headed upstairs. I had brought along my leather backpack to use as a shopping bag.
    I began my shopping in Lisa’s bureau, taking a few more black tops and some leggings. Next I decided I needed a change of jewelry. I dropped the musical earrings back into the top drawer of the jewelry box and fished around to see what else I liked. I decided on little silver hearts, simple, with a dot in the center of each.
    In the second drawer, in keeping with the theme, there was another heart piece, tucked into a robin’s-egg-blue Tiffany bag, as the jasper necklace had been, a heavy silver link bracelet with a heart dangling from it. It was engraved, but not with Lisa’s name or initials. It said, Be My Love. Pretty corny, but I wouldn’t have thrown it away had someone I loved given it to me. I held it in my hand for a while, warming the silver and feeling its weight. In the end, I put it back in the little blue bag and left it.
    I changed to one of Lisa’s black sweaters and a clean pair of faded jeans. It was sort of like playing dress-up, only it was morbid. Still, I was just following Avi’s advice, wasn’t I? I was walking in Lisa’s shoes. And her earrings, necklace, and clothes. I was reading her bodes and letters. I had just barely escaped from having to sleep with her dog. And in a shat while I’d be back at Bank Street Tai Chi, where it was possible I’d be meeting the person who had last seen her alive.
    I put the rest of the clothes into the backpack and headed for the stairs. I planned to put most everything back, of course. I’m often a liar, but only rarely a thief. On the way out I snagged the book of Zen quotes I hadn’t finished reading, tucking it under one arm. It was time to go, but first I had a guilt pang at the front door. The pile of mail was growing. One of these days, I knew, I’d have to look through it. But not this day. If I didn’t hurry, I’d be late for the staff meeting.
    I could see light coming into the hall as together Dash and I climbed to the fifth floor. The door had been propped open. I could hear their voices as I approached.
    “—a matter of time,” I heard Avi say impatiently.
    “But you’re not denying—”
    “I am not denying. But length of time does not determine—”
    “I have been here for seven and a half years. I have done—“
    “Janet, there is something important you have not done. Now, could we discuss this, you and I, at a later time? I have something important to talk to all of you about today.”
    I was a few steps from the landing when I put my hand into Dash’s collar to stop him. Someone had left an expensive camera, a Nikon, on the shelf where the shoes were stored, an odd thing to do in New York City . I wondered which of them was so trusting.
    “But it’s the same old story, Avram . Exactly the same. And I need—”
    “You need. There is barely room for oxygen in this place with all this overblown ego. I, I, me, me!” There was a silence and then Avi spoke again, slowly and calmly. “The study we have all embarked upon is a lifelong investment in loss, letting go of ego, letting go of tension, letting go of fear—”
    “ Avi , you—”
    “I have only taken on an apprentice. You act as if—”
    “That’s what you said last time.”
    “But who ?” It was a man’s voice this time. A young-sounding man.
    They were all young. Howard Lish , a massage therapist who worked out of his home on Bank Street , only a block and a half east of the school, I had learned by surfing around in Avi’s computer files, was, at thirty-eight, the oldest on staff. Stewart Fleck, a social worker who apparently had no compunction about signing out to the field and then coming here to study or teach, was thirty-four, just two years older than Lisa. Hey,