Fluffernutter

By Margaret Karmazin

Melanie Grouse loved her Bichon Frise Fluffernutter more than any other creature on earth. This was a secret she believed she kept hidden. Her son Jeremy, who was twenty-three, gay and a gourmet cook, was aware of the situation but did not care since he himself loved his cat Wildette more than anyone else and knew that he came firmly second in his mother’s heart. The two had always been simpatico, especially since Jeremy’s father had died suddenly when he was six from slipping underneath a snow plow.

Since Fluffernutter was for the most part well behaved, Melanie was shocked after returning home from her Wednesday evening Tarot and Psychics Group meeting to discover a perfectly formed poop pile dead center on her and her husband Brian’s queen-sized bed. She was so shocked that she ran back downstairs without cleaning it up to exclaim to her husband that she had never seen such a thing in her entire life and what could it possibly mean?

“Who cares?” said Brian, a man of little patience when it came to pets and their peeing, pooping and shedding of hair. “It probably means nothing except the dog didn’t feel like waiting till you got home.”

“Well, she knows that every Wednesday evening I take her outside as soon as I get home. She knows that; she’s always there waiting for me. And as usual, she was there at the door, ready for our walk.”

“And did nothing outside then,” he said.

“That’s right. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Idiot dog,” Brian mumbled.

She heard him but said nothing; what was the point? Brian had never been fond of animals; she knew that when they married. But she’d made it clear that she needed them in her life, dog or cat. And then after her cat died, her friend’s daughter’s dog had had puppies. Fluffernutter for various reasons had not measured up to purebred perfection so Melania had been able to buy her for a mere two hundred and fifty dollars. Since then, she’d never had any problems with the dog who was perfectly healthy, easy-going and adorable.

“A trip to the vet is in order,” she told Brian, “though I just had her there two months ago for her shots.”

“Expensive pain in the ass,” she heard him mutter.

Melanie tried to pretend she didn’t notice that her second marriage was not up to par with her first, though there was no way to tell how things might have turned out if Eddie hadn’t slipped under that snow plow. They’d been very happy, that was a fact, but would Eddie have minded when their son turned out to be gay? As it was, he didn’t live long enough to find out, though Melanie had guessed from the moment Jeremy started hanging out with her while she applied her makeup. When, at five, he’d suggested she put on the cherry red lipstick instead of the coral, she knew for sure. His father had been a man’s man – gone fishing and hunting and built things around the house, though he was a sweet, gentle soul and she missed him to this day. Things had taken a possible turn for the worse when five years after Eddie’s death, she’d given in to money problems and her relentless horniness to let Brian into her life and pretty soon they’d ended up married.

“When I get my own place, you can move in with me,” Jeremy had told her several times as he finished growing up. He did not hide his disdain for Brian though as far as Melanie could see, his stepfather had never been especially unkind to him.

“Why don’t you like him?” she’d asked him a year or so before. “Has he done something?”

“Not to me, Mere,” Jeremy had said, but he wouldn’t elaborate further. The two men tolerated each other, mildly bonded over The Sopranos and Mad Men and Jeremy’s expert pizza making but that’s as far as it went.

“Well, to whom then?” she asked.

“Maybe you don’t know him well enough,” Jeremy answered. “Maybe no one does.” And he quickly took off out the door.

Brian was a pharmaceutical salesman who, for most of their marriage, was away half the time on business. But at the end of last year, he’d been promoted to district manager and did most of his overseeing by virtual meetings. Now he was home almost every night and she, having been used to time off, now valued even more her Wednesday evening meetings.

The group consisted of five women besides herself and one man with an occasional guest. Not everyone attended every week, usually just five: There was Melanie whose claim to fame was being a half decent Tarot reader though not good enough, she believed, to charge for a reading. Occasionally, she experienced startling hits.

Then Teresa, who was clairvoyant though she could not perform on command. “It happens out of the blue,” she explained, “and the news is never good. Such as the time my son-in-law was fired from his job and I had a vision of him jumping off a cliff the day before. He did end up killing himself but not quickly – eventually, he suffered a heroin overdose.” Teresa was not a bundle of joy.

Anita could occasionally read minds, which was disconcerting, but like Teresa she could never predict when it might occur, and her results were usually mundane. Such as the time she announced that Melanie was thinking about butterscotch pudding, which was startling since indeed she had been. While the others were talking, she had floated off on a mental tangent about foods her mother used to make when Melanie was under six years old and they had lived in a particular house in Ohio. City Chicken, lemon cups, peppermint ice cream, Kool-Aid served in tall, multi colored, frosted metal glasses...

“The kind they cooked in a pan,” Anita had gone on. “It formed a skin on top.”

“Wow,” Melanie said. “You are good, Anita. Incredible, in fact. That is exactly what I was thinking about.”

Carol did not claim to have any psychic talents; she was just interested in the subject and Peter who was a librarian at the community college was a Rosicrucian. He believed he had secret powers, which was all right with Melanie since she was of the opinion that probably most people actually did.

The week after Fluffernutter pooped on the bed, Melanie could hardly keep her mind on whatever the group was discussing since she was worried about what the dog might be doing back home.

Her fears were realized though apparently Brian was unaware of the situation, since when she got in the door, he was comfy in his recliner, remote control in hand. “Where’s Fluffernutter?” she asked. “She isn’t here waiting to go out. Did you take her out or something?”

He looked up with a strange expression on his face. She couldn’t quite read it. “Me?” he said.

It had been a stupid question since Brian paid as little attention to the dog as possible, though occasionally he handed her a treat. Fluffernutter wasn’t especially fond of him either, although she wasn’t averse to an occasional head scratch should he offer.

“It’s not a good sign if she’s not waiting for me to take her out,” she said as she struggled out of her jacket and darted up the stairs.

Their house was on two levels, the downstairs street level and the upstairs back opening into the backyard which rose up on a hill from the front. Their bedroom had a sliding glass door and opened onto a little deck. Before she turned on the light, she saw Fluffernutter’s silhouette in front of the glass as she apparently looked out into the night. The dog turned, made a little whining noise and slunk across the floor to her mistress, a sure sign she had done something she wasn’t supposed to. And sure enough, when Melanie flicked on the overhead light, her eye was drawn to the little brown pile in the center of the bed.

“Oh, Fluffernutter. How could you?”

She resignedly cleaned it up and then stood for a while herself looking out into the night.

“It still smells in here,” complained Brian when they climbed into bed, but Melanie smelled nothing, and she knew that her sniffer was better than his any ole time.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Maybe I’ll take her to the vet. In the meantime, we’ll make sure the bedroom door stays shut. If she can’t get in, she can’t poop on the bed.”

Brian said nothing, but the following Wednesday, Melania made sure to close the bedroom door before she left.

Everyone showed up at the meeting and it was an enthusiastic one. Anita, the mind reader, took Melanie aside during their coffee break and whispered, “I’m picking up that you’re concerned about a dog, something about...well, I’m not sure how to say this, but about it relieving itself? I’ve been getting this for almost a week now. I’m sorry if –“

“No,” said, Melanie, “you’re entirely right as usual. We’re having an issue about that and I just don’t know what the problem is.”

“Well... if it’s any help, I went to a psychic fair on Saturday and a woman was there who is an animal reader. She was even on TV.” She picked her shoulder bag up from her chair and dug into it to remove a card, which she handed to Melanie. “I don’t know what she charges, but you might give her a call.”

Melanie took it and looked it over. If she’s been on TV, the woman probably cost a fortune. “I don’t know,” she said.

Well, at least I won’t have to clean up any poop tonight, she thought as she drove home, but to her dismay she did. The very same little deposit was waiting for her in the center of the bed. After cleaning it up, she stormed downstairs to confront Brian who was deep into The Sopranos, which he had already watched at least six times.

“Why is the bedroom door open? I told you I closed it so Fluffernutter couldn’t get in and I come home to it wide open and more shit on the bed!” She surprised herself at how angry she was.

He looked up, his expression again an odd mix. Had he opened the door on purpose? For what reason? Did he imagine that it would make her hate Fluffernutter and want to get rid of her?
It occurred to her that if she was forced to choose between the dog or Brian... well, it might not turn out well for Brian.

“I forgot,” he said. I went in there to change my clothes and just forgot.”

She looked at him. Yes, he had changed from what he’d come home from work in. Probably taken a shower and put on his sweats. Perfectly normal behavior. From now on, she’d tape a note on the bedroom door to remind him to keep it closed. Anyone could forget.

She soaked in the bathtub in deep thought. When was the last time she and Brian had made love? Wasn’t it right before Valentine’s Day? It was now June. She frowned as she tried to remember. Fluffernutter whined outside the bathroom door but she was hardly aware of it.

Hadn’t he only remembered her birthday after Jeremy mentioned it while over to dinner that time he cooked Moroccan chicken? She hadn’t missed the look on Brian’s face when her son jokingly brought up the subject and rubbed it in that his mom would soon be hitting the big five-o. He forgot, she thought. He’d never forgotten in the past. Why did she feel fear and hollowness as if someone had suddenly opened a refrigerator door inside of her?

Anita, the mind reader, called the next day. This was unusual. The group members did not normally socialize outside of the meetings. No one had ever decided this; it was just the way it was. “Sorry to bother you,” she told Melanie, “but for some reason, you keep coming to mind. How is your doggy situation?”

“Not good,” said Melanie. “She did it again. It’s the only time she does it, while I’m at the meetings. The entire rest of the week, she’s fine.”

“Maybe she doesn’t like you to go to the meetings?”

“Anita, how long has the group been going?”

“Um, I don’t know, didn’t we start just after Obama was elected?”

“Before that, I think. It’s been years. And my point is, I’ve had Fluffernutter for only six years now and this has only started in the past month. Also, she never does that when I go out to run errands or whatever. Just Wednesday nights.”

Long pause before Anita spoke. “I really urge you to call that lady whose card I gave you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Melanie said.

And she did, for about ten minutes after Anita hung up, and then she picked up the phone and called.

“The Animal Psychic,” the woman’s card proclaimed under her name, Rowena Dash. A quite dashing name, Melanie thought as she waited for what would probably be the answering machine, but no, Ms. Dash actually answered. Turned out, she only lived twenty minutes away and that television bit had consisted of a local late-night cable show. Her price was reasonable.

“I can come over tomorrow,” she said, and Melania set the time for an hour after Brian left for work.

Fluffernutter was unusually quiet when meeting Rowena Dash. Normally, the cute little dog hopped about happily looking for attention and then quickly settled down, but now she sat still and seemed to carefully observe their guest.

Rowena sank to a squat and allowed Fluffernutter to sniff her hand and get acquainted. Finally, she stood up and said, “Let’s all move to the scene of the crime, shall we?”

Melania picked up Fluffernutter and led the way. “How about we close the bedroom door behind us,” suggested Rowena. “Make sure everyone stays in here.”

Fluffernutter did not seem interested in leaving the room anyway. She did not appear to regret any of her former actions in there either, but stood in an alert manner, her little ears slightly lifted.

“I have never seen her so...so interested,” said Melanie.

“Would you mind giving us some time alone together?” asked the psychic.

Disappointed, Melanie acquiesced and quietly left the room, reclosing the door behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, Rowena and Fluffernutter emerged from the room. Melania had been sitting at the top of the stairs waiting. “Well?” she said.

“Let’s go downstairs. Maybe have a cup of tea?” said Rowena.

That sounded a bit ominous.

Once they were settled, Rowena let spill. “Fluffernutter communicates quite clearly,” she said. “An animal does not use words, but I receive pictures in my mind of what they’re trying to say.” She paused. “You’re not going to like this. I need to prepare you.”

What on earth could it be? “Go on,” said Melanie.

“It only happens when you’ve gone to your meeting, right? That’s on Wednesday evenings. Do you know your neighbor very well, Melanie?”

“Which neighbor?”

“The one next door. To your left if you’re looking out the sliding glass door in the bedroom.”

“You mean the Logan’s? Not really well, no. We went out to dinner with them once when they first moved here but nothing much after that. I wasn’t fond of the woman – she seemed shallow or something. I think Brian went over there a couple of times to help them with stuff, to move a dresser or something.”

“Uh huh,” said Rowena. She paused and looked at Melanie for a long moment before diving back in. “Well, Fluffernutter is defecating on the bed to express her opinion of what is going on while you’re not home.”

Melanie’s heart thumped unpleasantly. “And that is....?”

“It seems that your husband is having an affair with that neighbor woman. It seems she comes over on Wednesday evenings and they...”

“On our bed,” finished Melanie.

Rowena nodded.

“Through the sliding glass doors up there.”

“I assume so,” said the psychic.

Melanie felt as if someone had stabbed her right through the heart with a metaphysical spear. For a moment, she couldn’t suck in a breath but finally forced herself to do it, in and out, in and out, slowly and controlled.

“Are you surprised?” asked Rowena.

Suddenly Melanie realized that she wasn’t. Everything flashed through her mind at once. Her instance dislike of Sara Logan, the lack of affection she’d been feeling from Brian for so long, his weird expressions when she came in from her meetings and Fluffernutter staring out the sliding glass door, not to mention her statements on the bed. It all made perfect sense.

The psychic covered Melanie’s hand with her own. “I’m not going to charge you.” She stood up to leave and patted her client on the shoulder. “You have a good dog there, hon. She’s your best friend.”

Melanie sat for a long while with Fluffernutter on her lap. The dog was very quiet as if she knew her mistress needed serious comforting and time to think. Finally, Melanie stood up, located her phone and called Jeremy who was probably busy at the restaurant where he was sous-chef, but luckily, he was on break. “We’re slow today,” he said. “Part of the street closed off, something to do with the water at that end.”

She told him. “You knew, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me? Seriously, Jeremy, how could you have let me go so long?” She had never felt so angry with her son before.

“Mere, I didn’t know anything for certain and why would I want to start trouble if there wasn’t anything really going on? You would have been just as mad at me if I’d done that! I absolutely did not know about Mrs. Logan, but I had occasional suspicions when Brian used to be on the road a lot. I think that maybe he cheated all the time when he was away on business and now that he’s no longer traveling, he took up with her.” He paused. “What are you going to do, Mere? You want me to come over? You want to come stay with me?”

“No, Sweets, but thanks for offering,” she said.

She knew what she was going to do and it was going to involve upheaval and financial woes, but she was still going to do what she had to. And the first thing was to move all of her clothes and paraphernalia into the guest room. She left her former bedroom door open and let Fluffernutter have full reign.

THE END

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