He exhales deeply on the other end of the line. “Fuck,” he says. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“I’m sorry, Blue. He got sick in a short time, and I just didn’t know. Up until recently he’s been happy and playful. He was having some trouble with the stairs and jumping on the furniture, but I thought it was old age. A few weeks ago I bought a new house with no stairs so it was easier for him to get around. I just...” I gulp for air as a sob escapes me. “I did everything I could to give him a good life. He’s the best dog in the world and we love him so much and I just wish this wasn’t happening...”
“Piper...” he breathes. “That’s why I left him with you. Nobody loves like you do.”
I choke and sniffle. “Yeah, well, a lot of good that’s done me. All I do is get my heart broken. I spent the morning trying to explain to our daughter how this dog that’s been her best friend since the day she was born isn’t going to be here anymore.”
“Fuck, babe. I’m so sorry. Is she all right?”
“I think so. I don’t know, really. She’s a very caring little girl, but sometimes she gets quiet and I don’t know what she’s thinking.”
“I’ll be there. Tell me when and where.”
His answer sets me back a step. I wasn’t expecting him to actually want to be there. I thought he’d be upset, and I thought I’d hear him run to the nearest bottle and then hear him fall apart on the other end of the phone. I wasn’t prepared for him to sound so together.
“I have to talk to the vet first. Can I email you the information? It will be soon though. Probably next weekend.”
“I can make that work. You can call me with the info, though, you don’t have to email me.”
“I’d rather just email it to you.”
“C’mon, Piper. Don’t be like this. I miss you. We’re both upset... we can talk.”
Closing my eyes, I count to five to give myself time to not let myself open up to him again.
“I don’t want to talk. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
“So you won’t even talk to me? That’s it?”
“Yes.”
Click, click of his tongue bar.
“All right, then.” Frustration and disappointment deepen his tone. “I’m not gonna beg. I’m glad you called. I want to be there. Does he need anything in the meantime? Medicine? I’ll send you some money.”
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the fact that Blue has money now. And probably a lot of it. To me, he’s still the cute guy playing in the park getting coins tossed in a jar who insisted on buying me an ice cream cone. And I’m still the girl who didn’t give a crap about any of it and only wanted to be with him. No matter what.
“Thank you, but I’m okay for money.”
“I want to send something. Maybe you can take Lyric someplace special or buy her something to kinda cheer her up? Maybe we can buy her a locket to keep a bit of his fur in? Or a picture of him? I dunno, I’m not good at this shit.”
For the first time, he just referred to us as a we regarding Lyric. We as in parents together of this little person. I sit in one of the wicker chairs on the porch and watch a wind chime blow lightly in the wind while I try to process how his words make me feel.
Confused. Leery. Hopeful.
The locket suggestion is also a surprise—one I wish I had thought of myself.
“The locket is a really sweet idea. I think she’d love a picture of him to wear around her neck. I’ll pick one up for her. I really have to go now, I don’t want to leave her alone for too long when she’s upset.”
“Got it. I’m sorry, Ladybug. For everything-”
I don’t let him finish. “I’ll email you when I have the information. Goodbye.”
I end the call and yank my hand away from the phone before I change my mind and call him again. It’s been almost three years since we last talked. Three damn years. Our feelings for each other should be gone. People break up, they move on; they stop loving and wanting each other. Why can’t we do that? What’s wrong with us that we can’t just end?
“Why would you ask him to come out here? Why get this shit all stirred up again?”
Josh’s broad frame fills my bedroom doorway. I knew he was going to react like this, which is why I waited until the last minute to tell him.
“It’s the right thing to do,” I reply, sitting on the chest at the foot of my bed to pull on my sneakers.
“I think it’s a dumb thing to do.”
“He loves Acorn. He deserves a chance to say goodbye.”
“He dumped him. That was his goodbye.”
“Will you stop, please?” I ask, rising to my feet. “This is hard enough on me already. I don’t want to see him, Josh. It’s going to open up all the old wounds again. I know that. But I also know how much Acorn means to him. I don’t expect you to understand it. People deserve closure, and so do animals.”
He shakes his head. “I think you’re being way too nice.”
“Well, that’s me.”
“Let me go with you, then, and have Ditra come here and stay with Lyric. If I go with you at least you won’t end up in bed with him. I won’t even go in, I’ll wait in the car for you.”
I glare at him. “I can’t believe you just said that to me. And Lyric asked for you to stay with her tonight while I did this. She wants you to tell her the rainbow bridge story again. Ditra doesn’t know anything about that.”
“I said it as your friend, Piper. Not as someone who’s interested in dating you. Blue makes you do dumb things.”
His comments hurt regardless of how he meant them. “As my friend and someone who supposedly wants to date me, I’m offended that you don’t think I’m capable of not sleeping with him without you babysitting me.”
His shoulder lifts in a shrug. “Are you?”
I hope so.
“Yes,” I reply. “Now please stop this.”
He follows me out to the living room where Lyric is sitting on the floor with Acorn reading a book to him. My heart shatters in a million pieces.
“Okay, sweetheart. It’s time for me and Acorn to go for a drive to the special place,” I say in as upbeat a tone as I can.
“To the bridge?” she asks.
“Yes.” To an imaginary bridge that takes pets up to heaven that I want to believe in just as much as Lyric does.
I do my best to hold back tears and keep this experience positive for Lyric, like I read about on a website for how to help children with losing a pet or family member for the first time. It’s not easy when I’m overcome with grief myself.
After Lyric says her sweet and heartbreaking goodbye, Josh helps me put Acorn into the back seat of my car, gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and then I’m driving across town, tempted to turn around at every red light. I wish I really was driving Acorn to a special bridge somewhere serene and pretty with rainbows in the clouds and not to a sterile veterinarian’s office. I keep glancing at him in the rearview mirror, singing happy songs to him, and he meets my eyes in the mirror. His eyes have lost their spark. He is bone thin and looks exhausted. I know I’m doing the right thing for him, even though it feels awful.
The vet scheduled me for the last appointment of the night, so we wouldn’t feel rushed. I pull into a parking spot and reluctantly get out of my car and open the door to the back seat. The slam of another car across the parking lot vaguely catches my attention as I lean in to lift Acorn, and when I turn around the unmistakable figure of Blue, his familiar gait, hair blowing in the wind, comes toward me across the dark lot.
Wordlessly, he takes the dog from my arms and holds him against his chest, bending his face down to kiss the top of Acorn’s head. Acorn immediately perks up, tail wagging, and licks Blue’s face.
I can’t watch this reunion. I can’t watch Acorn summon up energy to love on Blue when we’re going to be ending his life just minutes from now. Turning away, I close the car door, wishing I could also shut out the sound of Blue talking softly and Acorn’s happy whimpers.
“Piper...”
I refuse to turn around. I don’t want him to see me crying, and I don’t want him to see I still care about him.