Rachel Alexander 02 - The Dog who knew too much

darling. And every winter he went to Key West . One winter, he bought a little place. And that was that.”
    “Does he know you know?”
    “Sweetheart, he calls me for advice. Mom, he says, my skin is breaking out from the base. What do you suggest? Would aloe help? And he gives advice. Tells me what to wear. Tries to get me to color my hair. Mom, he said, last time I was down, for my eightieth birthday, Mom, he said, if you dyed your hair, you’d look ten years younger.” She roared.
    She didn’t ask about the Jacobs case, and I didn’t bring it up. After lunch, she showed me pictures of my cousin Richie on stage, as Liza Minelli , Judy Garland, and Marlene Dietrich.
    “He has fabulous legs,” I said.
    “Takes after me.” Ceil pulled up her skirt and stuck one long garn out from under the table for me to admire.
    After lunch she went rummaging around in a closet and came up with a lace and velvet shawl wrapped in tissue paper. “This was your mother’s,” she said. “She gave it to me once when she came to visit. I’d like you to have it now.”
    “Ceil, I can’t take it from you. It’s too beautiful.”
    “Of course you can. It should be with you.” She handed me the shawl. “You know, darling, your mother was just a human being. One day, it would be nice for you if you let go of some of your disappointment ”
    She lifted one long-fingered, bony hand to silence me. “Do you remember the summer you stayed with me for a month, when you were eleven?” I nodded. “And do you remember Margaret?”
    “Of course,” I said. “How could I forget? That was my first job.”
    “I’d met her late one afternoon, the week before you came. I was admiring the ocean, talking out loud to myself. You know how I am. She asked if, as long as I was looking anyway, I’d watch her swim. At first I thought, What chutzpah, what a loony request. And then I saw the white cane folded up and lying on the comer of her towel, so I said yes, I’d watch. Stand on the shore, she said, and shout to me if I’m headed in the wrong direction. So I watched her swim. And when she came out—”
    “You said , I have a very responsible young woman coming to stay with me next week, for the whole month of August, my niece Rachel, and she’d be delighted to meet you here every afternoon at five and watch you swim.”
    “We all need that,” Ceil said, “someone to shout and tell us if we’re headed out to sea. But when you can see,” she said, picking up her coffee cup, “well, most of us don’t have someone responsible standing on the shore to make sure we stay headed in the right direction. Now, come, I know why you’re here.”
    I was truly amazed. I hadn’t said a word about Lillian and Ted, not even on the phone.
    “So let’s take that adorable creature of yours to the beach.” She turned to Dashiell, his big mouth agape in adoration as she spoke. “Aunt Ceil knows why you came to visit. For the same reason your mommy used to come when she was little. She loved the beach, just the way you do,” she said to him. “Marsha told me you showed up wet for your meeting with them,” she said to me. “That’s the girl I remember, I thought when she said it. Come,” she said, talking to Dashiell again, “we’ll take our walk.”
    “You have to give him what he needs,” Ceil said later, as we watched Dashiell running along the sand. “You’re responsible for him.”
    Of course, I didn’t for a minute think she was talking about Dashiell.
    “He always loved dress-up,” she said, walking next to me but with her thoughts far away. “He liked to pretend he was something he wasn’t. Someone he wasn’t. He enjoyed that. He still does. I never told him to try to be anything different. People are who they are. I never tried to tell him what to do or not do, how to live his life. It’s harmless, what he does. It gives him pleasure. He’s my son, and I love him. That’s all there is to it. That’s what I told your mother, too. She thought I ought to do something. Do what? I asked her. Beatrice, I said, all I can do is alienate my son. No one wants to be told what to do. People have to handle their own lives, their own way.”
    I had come to talk about Lillian.
    “Do you believe in fate, Rachel?”
    “I don’t know,” I told her.
    What do you suggest? I’d meant to ask. But what with one thing and another, I never did get around to it.

18

Follow That Cab

    I WAS NEARLY dry by the time I arrived at the