Page 31 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
I feel a sense of dread settle over me like a wet blanket when Sean opens the front door to his house.This is it.
“Hey.” He motions me inside. “He’s in here.”
I draw a steadying breath and follow him inside, feeling numb.
Murphy is lying on the sofa. Sean never used to let him on the furniture, and I’m not sure if that’s changed or if this is a special onetime thing. Tears spring to my eyes when I see him. He doesn’t look well. He’s panting, and when he spots me, he starts whining and tries to get up.
“Shh,” I shush him. “Hi, my best boy.” I sit down on the floor beside him. His tail wags when I brush my fingers through his fur, and when I press my face to his neck and inhale, he whines again. “I love you too.”
Sean looks absolutely wrecked, and I feel terrible for him. He’s been with Murphy a long time. In a lot of ways, his loss will be much harder on Sean than it is on me. I’m gone for months at a time, but Sean spends every day with him. “Should we go?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
Sean lets me sit with Murphy awhile longer, and I talk to him and pet him, scratching behind his ears. I tell him how much I love him and how much his daddy and I are going to miss him.
After a while, we load Murphy into the back seat of Sean’s SUV, and I sit with him, his scruffy head resting on my thigh. I stroke his fur the whole ride to the vet’s office and try not to cry. Ultimately, I givein because holding back is harder than letting the tears flow, and I just repeat over and over again to Murphy how much I love him.
The drive back to Sean’s house after is completely quiet. I stare out the window, my expression vacant. It’s the end of an era, and I feel so empty and alone right now, despite the fact that Sean sits next to me. His neighborhood is filled with beige cookie-cutter houses. I imagined Sean and myself here, raising children, hosting kids’ birthday parties and family Christmases. But the longer Sean and I were together, the clearer it became that that wasn’t the future he saw. He said he loved me, that he wanted a future together. But when I talked about getting engaged, about having a baby, it was “Maybe. Someday.” Then it was “What’s wrong with what we already have?” Then “Why do you always have to put so much pressure on me?” until I felt ashamed for asking. Like there was something wrong with me that this life wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t enough for him.
When we reach his driveway, I climb out and head to my car, stopping to look back at him.
“Take care of yourself,” Sean says.
I meet his somber expression and feel nothing. I can’t believe I ever thought this was what I wanted. “You too.”
Now that we don’t share a dog anymore, our last bit of connection is gone. I doubt I’ll see him again, and maybe I should be bothered by that fact. Upset or angry. I’m neither of those things. I do feel awful about sweet Murphy, though. I hate that I didn’t get more time with him.
On the drive home, I cry the whole way. It’s a wonder I don’t get in a car accident.
I wash my tear-streaked face and change into sweatpants and an oversize T-shirt, craving comfort.
Almost as if I’d spoken it out loud to the universe, Hart’s name appears on my phone. He’s calling me. I let the call go to voicemail, but he doesn’t leave one. After a few minutes, I decide to text him.
Alessia:Sorry, I’m not in the mood to talk right now. I had to put my dog to sleep today.
Hart:Shit. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you had a dog.
Alessia:Yes, Murphy. He lived with my ex.
Hart:I’m really sorry. I wish I was there to cheer you up.
I almost typeme too, then think better of it.
Alessia:Thanks.
Hart:What kind of dog was Murphy?
I send him a picture. It’s one of my favorites. I’m holding a squirming Murphy, who’s licking the side of my cheek. I’m laughing.
Hart:He looks like he was the best.
I sob out a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a cry.
Alessia:He really was.
Hart:I’m sorry, beautiful. I’m here if you need anything.
I don’t reply, because there’s nothing to say, and nothing that he, or anyone else, can do.
