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“Pudge,” he said, “will you stay with me tonight?”
“Sure.” The truth, I couldn’t fathom sleeping alone.
“One other thing. Will you pray for Bear with me?”
I gave him a noogie. “Yeah…of course.”
For the second time tonight, I prayed. Up until now, I hadn’t prayed in years. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I did. Though we went to church on occasion, I was not a religious person. I wasn’t sure if I believed in God, but tonight I did. Maybe, unbeknown to me, Will was a believer. It didn’t matter. Together, we bowed our heads, steepled our hands, and prayed silently for Bear.
I also prayed hard for Tanya to get hers.
FORTY-ONE
PAIGE
Thanksgiving break. We had the week off from school.
There was good news.
And there was bad news.
The good news: Bear had survived the poisoning.
The bad news: He had to stay in the hospital for a week while we were up in San Francisco for Thanksgiving with my grandparents. The doctors said they needed to keep him on IVs and monitor him. There was still the possibility of liver damage and blood clotting, but they were optimistic he would make a full recovery.
Able to see him twice—once on Monday and again on Tuesday morning before embarking on our trip—Will and I were over-the-moon happy with the progress he’d made. On Monday, his eyes were glazed and he was very lethargic. On Tuesday, he was almost back to his old self, wagging his tail and barking at us to take him home. The staff had told us that everyone had fallen in love with our big brown, goofy dog and promised to take extra special care of him. We could even FaceTime with him. And while we were away, our housekeeper, Blanca, promised to visit him daily. Fingers crossed we could pick him up on the way back home.
We always drove up to San Francisco. We used to take my mom’s Range Rover, but once she traded it in for her Mercedes convertible, my dad rented a roomy Lincoln Navigator. I always looked forward to the trip because we took the scenic Highway 1 up the coast and stopped at Big Sur, Monterey, or Carmel. This time, due to a late start and the irritable mood my father was in, we took the boring I-5 north with little to look at but produce farms and cows. My mom sat in the front, reading fashion magazines, saying very little to my father. Will and I sat behind them, my brother playing games on his iPad, me thumbing through my sketchbook. Behind us, Tanya was sprawled on the back seat, chewing gum and complaining. The hatred Will and I felt for her was beyond words. She totally denied having anything to do with Bear’s poisoning, saying it was a freak thing. That maybe, she’d accidentally (on purpose!) left her drawer open in her haste to get ready for her date with Lance.
“That stupid, vicious beast is a waste of space,” she’d said to me, “and really should be put down.”
If we could put her down, Will and I would in a New York minute.
We made it to San Fran in record time. A little under five hours. It helped that we’d missed the holiday traffic by traveling on Tuesday and likely would do the same when we drove home on Saturday. We checked into our favorite hotel in Union Square, where we always stayed. This year into a three-bedroom suite. It was magnificent except for the fact I had to share a bedroom with Tanya. That was not happening. And it was Tanya who threw a tantrum. One hour later, I was ensconced in my grandma’s elegant, art-filled Nob Hill apartment, sharing one of the spare bedrooms with Will. There was no way I could leave him alone with the canine killer.
Thanksgiving was special to me because I got to spend time with my grandma, who I adored. On Wednesday morning, while Will went to the Exploratorium science museum with my grandpa, Grandma and I went to San Fran’s Museum of Modern Art. It was one of my favorite museums in the world, and I’d been to many. I loved the architecture, natural light, the permanent collection, and to my great delight, there was a special Brancusi exhibition. Trust me, it was not a hard decision to make: Spending the day shopping with Natanya versus going to the museum with Grandma. Duh.
We got to the museum when it opened at ten and breezed through it. My grandma, a major art collector and contributor, was on the board of trustees and had donated several pieces of her collection to the museum. I loved seeing them, and the accompanying plaque—Gift from the collection of Marjorie and Martin Merritt—always filled me with tingly pride. One day I hoped to have one of my sculptures exhibited in this museum.
Working our way down from the top floor, we saw all my favorite pieces and then spent an hour roaming through the Brancusi exhibition.
Afterward, Grandma and I had lunch at the museum’s café. Something we always did whenever we came here. We found a table for two, overlooking the breathtaking sculpture garden. It was my first opportunity to open up to my grandma. Last night had been difficult as Aunt Cecilia had come by and hogged her attention, but now Grandma was as eager to talk to me as I was to her.
“Paige,” she began, unscrewing the cap of her sparkling water, “have you heard from RISD?”
A smile bloomed on my face. “I got in! Early decision!” I’d found out right after visiting Bear on Monday.
My grandma’s face lit up like a firecracker, and she joyously clapped her hands together. “That’s wonderful! I’m so thrilled for you!”
“You’re the first one to know, other than Will.” The smile fell off my face. “I haven’t told my parents yet. Mom will be happy, but Dad is going to blow a gasket. He’s told me over and over he’s not going to pay for an arts education.”
“My dear child, there is nothing to worry about. I am totally prepared to cover the tuition, whatever it is.”
My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Seriously? You really mean that, Grandma?” An heiress to a railroad fortune, she was independently wealthy and didn’t need to rely on her husband’s money. Or her well-off kids.
She winked at me. “I never lie…at least to those I love.”
Springing from my chair, I rounded the table and hugged her. “Oh, Grandma! I love you so much! I don’t know how to thank you.”
