Must Love Dogs by Claire Cook, Carrington Macduffie

minivan. Christine and Siobhan would kill us for leaving them with all the kids, but that was later. Maeve had curled up in her car seat. She was sucking her thumb, her own doll clutched in her other hand, recovering from Dolly’s lack of sharing. Turning the key in the ignition, Carol said, “Hand me the tape.” I did, and she pushed the play button immediately.
    To hear your messages, press one
. Carol must have done just that because, after a slight pause, the taped messages began.
    Friday, October 15,6:53 p.m.
Hi. I’m really good-looking and, uh, if you want to see for yourself, call me at this number. 508-555-1221.
    Friday, October 15, 7:48 p.m.
Hello. This is in response to your ad in the newspaper. Exactly what do you mean by voluptuous? Do you mean big breasts or do you mean fat? Direct your answer to my box number, which is 99865.
    Friday, October 15, 9:52 p.m.
Woof. Woof, woof. I love dogs, too, and I have a great sense of humor. You can probably tell that already, huh? My box number is 99743.
    Friday, October 15, 11:04 a.m.
Good morning. This is Simon. I happened to see your ad in the Globe and it caught my eye, so to speak. I must say that your verbal presentation was quite enticing as well….
    I leaned forward and pushed the eject button. “Jesus, Carol. What a bunch of losers. What did my message
say
? Gimme the phone.” I dialed the 800 number, pressed in the password to hear all eighteen free words of my ad:

    Voluptuous, sensuous, alluring and fun. Barely 40 DWF
    seeks special man to share starlit nights. Must love dogs.

    I told Carol how horrified I was by her ad, how I would never let her meddle in my life again and, by the way, how cheap did it look to have exactly eighteen words?! She told me that technically she couldn’t meddle in my life because I didn’t have one. The responses, she insisted, got better, and there were actually a couple of promising ones if I’d just be patient long enough to get to them. And, by the way, did I know that one of my biggest faults, along with my passivity, was my impatience, and my refusal to cooperate with things that were in my best interest, not to mention my total lack of gratitude.
    By this point, we had gotten out of the car to lean up against Carol’s minivan so we wouldn’t disturb Maeve. We were both talking at once, creating a kind of discordant sibling rivalry with our competing voices. Faint strains of predinner organ music from inside the trailer accompanied us.
    A new voice made us both jump. “Look, Dad, it’s Ms. Hurlihy. Ms. Hurlihy, what are you doing yelling in Whispering Pines Park?” It was a child’s voice, and a familiar one at that. I turned to see that it belonged to Austin Connor.

Chapter 7
     
    “My father said you’re nicely attractive,” Austin announced the next morning at circle time.
    “He did?” I asked. June noticed my slip. Her expression changed slightly, a little wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. Blushing, I redirected the conversation. “Who wants to tell us about something fun they did over the weekend?”
    “We walked by your trailer three more times while you were inside with Dracula Dolly,” Austin continued. “Real slow.”
    I was dying to ask Austin if his father had said anything else about me, but I was a professional. I waited no more than a couple of seconds to see if he volunteered anything on his own.
    I hoped June saw how easily I moved on. “Can you say ‘tinikling dance’?” I asked the children.
    “Tinikling dance,” they repeated in unison.
    “Tickling dance,” Jenny Browning yelled. “Tickling, tickling, tickling dance!” The children laughed hysterically at this perfect preschool joke. Molly Greene started the actual tickling. Within seconds, a tangle of giggling bodies rolled around the center of the circle. I let it go briefly while I grabbed the globe, long enough to let them expend some energy, but not so long that someone got hurt.
    June and I pulled the kids off