Henrietta

Abstract

Henrietta Kim Magowan We're at Padre's with a bunch of Luke's friends, drinking our third pitcher of beer. I'm talking to Gloria, another of the girlfriends, when I hear Luke's friend Peter say, "So, any news about Allison?" Immediately my ears perk. Allison is Luke's ex-girlfriend, and he hardly ever discusses her. I keep myself angled towards Gloria. She's talking about an episode of The Great British Baking Show. I feel rather than see Luke shake his head. "Incommunicado," he says. "Man, that girl was fine," says Peter. Peter's a bonehead. "The thing about beautiful people is life is too easy for them, because they get all this attention without even trying. They live without consequence." For Luke, at least regarding Allison, this is a speech. I snap off and turn over words while Gloria yammers on about some technical challenge to make suet pudding. "Consequence," I think, "beautiful." Allison is beautiful, indisputably: I saw a picture of her and Luke once at Simon's house, from a wedding. Allison is wearing a flamboyant green dress with a wide skirt like she thinks she's Frida Kahlo, and her lips are painted red-red and puckered into a kiss. Luke stares at her like she's some gleaming thing. "One thing I always think of when I think of Allison is that fancy dog of hers," says Luke's friend Charlie. "You know that scene in 101 Dalmatians where people are walking their dogs and the dogs all look like their owners? The beautiful, snobby woman has the poodle with its nose in the air? What was Allison's dog, anyway? Something fancy." "A King Charles spaniel," says Luke. "Henrietta." "Henrietta, that's right! Good lord: what a pretentious name for a dog." Luke starts laughing, and Peter says, "What's so funny?" "Dudes, this is not to be broadly disseminated," says Luke. "But after Allison and I broke up, I went back to our place to pick up a few things and leave my keys. I was the one who found that place, by the way; I was the one who first saw the listing. But whatever, she gets to stay, because she's Allison. "Anyway, I decided to take Henrietta for a walk in the park. Did you all know Henrietta is a show dog? Allison paid, I kid you not, $4,500 for that dog. Always short on rent, mind you, but Allison has her priorities: she'd plunk down crazy money for a pair of boots, and the food she gave Henrietta was better than the stuff we ate: lamb, for instance! [End Page 39] And special bones she'd cajole from the butcher on Spring Street. "So, Henrietta was all pleased to see me, and I knew Henrietta was in heat because of the way she nuzzled me when I walked in. I thought hello, bitch, let's you and me go to the park. So off we go, and when we get there, I looked around for the scroungiest dogs I could find—the ones that looked just feral, you know, the real uglies. It's a thing about show dogs: you can't spay them. Plus, Allison was planning on finding a stud for Henrietta and making some money on King Charles puppies. Allison always had her moneymaking schemes… "Anyway, we get to the park, and I find the ugliest dogs in range, and it was a canine gang bang. They just lined up, the ones who still had their balls. Afterwards I brought Henrietta home, and left the damn key on the spindly-ass table by the front door. But listen, my dudes—" Charlie and Peter are guffawing, Luke has to raise his voice. "You take this to the grave, okay? If you run into Allison and she starts telling you about some hideous puppies, you play fucking dumb, understood? 'Dumb' in the dual sense. Let her think it's an immaculate conception. Anyway, I did Henrietta a favor: poor dog deserves a fuck." Gloria is still talking about suet pudding, and I nod though my face feels stiff, a wooden mask. All...