Page 50 of Love in Training
She winks, but I can tell she has more to say as I clip the leash to Rufus’s collar.
“You know, I did a little searching while you were gone. It’s unusual for a military dog this young to be retired.”
“Oh yeah?” I say, eyeing the sky as we step outside.
She nods. “Normally, if something happens to the handler...” She glances at me, her pale cheeks flushing pink. “Well, anyway, there must have been a good reason they discharged him.”
I frown, looking at the dog, who glues himself to my leg. “Maybe he ate some five-star general’s couch.”
We make it home just as large drops of rain begin splashing down on the sidewalk. The sky is almost completely black, and there’s no break in the clouds on the horizon. But even after I’ve changed into workout clothes and completed thirty minutes of squats and lunges in my living room, my mood hasn’t improved. I am sick thinking about Kyle’s parents and their decision to“honor” his memory—forcing him to fit their mold, even now. It’s almost enough for me to understand the choice he made.
Except I could never understand that choice.
Saturday, March 20, 20__, 7:09 PM
From:[email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: no subject
Dear Kyle,
I had to see your family today. If you thought your parents would change with you gone, you were wrong. They’re actually worse. Please come back from the grave and haunt the shit out of them. I’m doing the best I can with Rufus, but I have no idea what I’m doing.
Why did you do this to me?
C
I make myself a mug of tea and settle in front of my laptop at the counter. I’ve felt like some kind of void opened inside me since I turned in my Unmatched piece. Maybe the sooner I write about this stupid scholarship instead, the faster it’ll go away.
But like everything today, it’s so much harder than it should be. I spend way too long typing, then deleting. Writing out words I want to say, then replacing them with the words I need. In the end, I wind up drafting two entirely different pieces. One that feels like my life’s most mediocre piece of journalism, and another that feels like the beginning of something so real, I have to close it and bury it in a hidden folder just so I can breathe.
By the time I send off the boring, official version to my editor, my apartment is almost fully dark, and the silence is only broken by a low rumble of thunder.
The silence.
I turn on my stool, scanning my small living space. Rufus isn’t on the couch carcass where he’s taken to sleeping. He also isn’t pacing the room whining or crying, sleeping in his crate, or in the kitchen getting a drink. I don’t see him anywhere.
A flash of lightning suddenly illuminates my whole apartment, and I spot a shape on the floor between the remnants of the couch and my coffee table. In the dark, it almost looked like part of the rug, but now I recognize the furry legs and black-tipped tail.
I slide off my stool, approaching cautiously. His head and shoulders are fully under the couch frame, which I’ve never seen him do except briefly to retrieve his Kong. But he’s just lying there, not moving. I reach out an unsteady hand to touch him, and when I do, his whole body is trembling.
“Rufus?” I say, glancing at my kitchen clock. “It’s um... it’s time for your walk.”
Last week, “walk” had been this animal’s favorite word. Anytime I said it, he’d drop everything and run to the door where I keep his leash. Now he doesn’t even shift.
“Rufus? Are you hungry?”
I go to the kitchen and fill his dish with food. Another thing that normally has him sitting at eager attention in front of me. I bring the food dish close to his head and give it a little shake, but he remains still. Something tightens in my belly.
I find this half-stuffed llama thing he has been systematically destroying. The squeaker still works, and normally when I pick it up, he spins in circles wanting to play. But now, when I squeeze it right next to him, he makes no response.
I pull out my phone and dial Lydia. Get her voicemail immediately.
I dial again, and it’s the same. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remember her saying Anton was planning a date for them this weekend. Was it tonight? That would figure. Her husband would totally get in the way right when I could really use her advice.
Another flash of lightning brightens the room, then we’re plunged back into darkness. I flip on the lights just as the requisite rumble of thunder rolls through. The dog still doesn’t move, but I canseehim shaking.
