Holding out the bag of cookies that I tied with a pink ribbon, I say, "These are for Princess."
His lips unpurse for a millisecond. Opening the door wider to let me in, I'm not sure I want to actually walk into Mr. Obermeyer's condo. He's probably going to make me take my shoes off to protect his pristine floor and has plastic covering his furniture so nobody gets any marks on it.
I walk inside his place. He's got jazz playing softly in the background. "You like jazz?" I ask, trying to make conversation, at the same time wondering when I can make a smooth exit without insulting the old man. The last thing I want to do is upset Mr. Obermeyer. His grumpy threshold is very thin.
Reaching into the bag, he pulls out a homemade treat and hands it to Princess, who's lying on a pink plushy dog bed with her name embroidered on it. Her water bowl is right next to it. The pampered pooch doesn't even have to get up to drink; she can hang her head over the side of the bed and lap up her refreshment.
What a life!
"Your mutt really messed things up, didn't he?"
I bite my bottom lip. "I know it's my fault, Mr. Obermeyer. And I'll pay for the vet bills and even take all the puppies and sell them after they're weaned if you want so you don't have to look at them more than you have to. Just...I'd appreciate it if you'd not terminate the pregnancy." Tears are coming to my eyes, which sucks because even though I'm emotional I hate to show it to other people.
"Wait here a second," Mr. Obermeyer says, leaving me alone while he disappears down the hall with his feet shuffling slowly across the floor. He shuffles back, holding a picture of an old woman beside a huge silver cup. A poodle is sitting next to her. The woman is grinning from ear to ear. You can tell she's deliriously proud. So is the dog. "Is that Princess?"
"Yes, with my wife. Esther died last year, right after the dog show." Mr. Obermeyer gazes at the picture longingly. "I miss her."
"I'm sorry I ruined your dog's uterus," I say, taking advantage of the sentimental moment and praying he'll forgive me.
The old man shakes his head. "You didn't ruin her. It's just...well, I'm a little overprotective of Princess."
Ya think? "What about the puppies?"
"My wife wanted to breed Princess and create champion purebreds."
"What do you want, Mr. Obermeyer?"
"I just want my wife back."
His dedication to his wife makes me think of Avi. And for the first time since I moved into my dad's building, I can relate to the old man. He's not bitter. He's jealous that I have a dad and friends and he's got nobody. Well, nobody except an ugly dog.
Here I was thinking all along that two people can't possibly make up a family, but I think I was wrong. Yes, it does happen that I'm wrong. Not often, but on the rare occasion.
"Mr. Obermeyer, how about you join us for a family Shabbat dinner next Friday."
"I'm not Jewish."
"You don't have to be Jewish in order to be in my family, Mr. Obermeyer. Just ask my mom."
26
***
I love the Lord for He hears my voice, my pleas; for He turns His ear to me whenever I call (Psalms 116:1). Sometimes my brilliant ideas get me in trouble and I need a little help from above.
***
"Knit caps?"
Miranda holds out our newly purchased hats for our kidnapping operation. "Check."
"Black clothes?"
Miranda does a scan of me, Nathan, Jess, and herself. "Check."
"Flashlights?"
We all click them on to make sure they're working. "Check."
"Walkie-talkies?"
Jess holds up four Motorola ones her parents use when they go to Disneyland every year so nobody gets separated for too long.
"Handcuffs?"
I hold up the plastic ones I bought at Walgreens. "Lipstick and scrunchies?"
"Now here's where I draw the line," Nathan says, flicking the light from his flashlight in my face.
"Nathan, obviously I didn't mean you. Miranda, you've got the keys?"
Miranda jingles her keys in front of her. "Got your dad's keys, your dad's car, and the address. You ready for this, Amy?"
Considering my heart is beating a million times a second and I haven't eaten for two days because I've been nervously looking forward to today, I'm ready.
We pile into my dad's Lexus and drive north toward Evanston. Miranda is driving. I'm in the front passenger seat. Jess and Nathan are in back. When we're close, I order everyone to put on their knitted caps from their back pockets.
"Do I have to?" Jess asks. "My hair will get all flat."
I roll my eyes. "Do you think commandos worry about their hair being flat?"
"Amy, we're not real commandos. And Avi will know it's you. This isn't a real military operation. It's a girl who wants her guy back."
It's a real operation to me.
At Allison Hall, we park out front.
"Now what?" Miranda asks.
I scan the area, analyzing the best place to plant ourselves.
"How do you know he's even here?" Jess asks. "He could be out for the night, staying in for the rest of the night..."
"Jess, you're not helping," Nathan chimes in. Jess shuts up.
"Okay, here's the deal," I say. "Jess, you go inside and ask around. Pretend you're a student and ask if people know where Tarik is."