As I sat there on the sofa in the tiny cabin, crying while replaying the memories in my head, Archie shifted, inching closer to me, placing his chin on my knee. My tears dripped down to him, so he sat up and began licking my face.
“Oh, sweet boy.” I rubbed his fur, holding his gaze as I scratched him, both my hands on the sides of his loving face. “What’s up with your daddy? Why is he so grumpy all of a sudden?”
He whimpered, his brown eyes looking at mine, as if he wished he could tell me all the words. Dogs were such amazing creatures. It was always so interesting to me how they seemingly would take on the personality of their owners. And this one was just as silently expressive as his mostly gentle housemate.
Archie finally jumped off my lap and walked over to his water bowl, taking hearty laps from it. Tanner must have gotten that from the cabinet while I was sleeping. He obviously cared enough about Archie to make sure he wouldn’t go thirsty.
No longer parched, the pup came back over and hopped on the sofa, curling up next to me. As I continued to rub the yellow lab’s fur, I realized he didn’t seem like the kind of dog that had a cruel man as an owner. This dog was kind, caring, loving, and protective.
Again, I replayed my conversation with Tanner in my head. But this time I closed my eyes, remembering his expression, because the man wore his emotions all over his face. Something about his look felt so familiar and resonated within me. When I told him about my near accident, Tanner wasn’t angry…he was…wounded. Afraid. A man whose pain mirrored mine. But I feared his was deeper, darker. And that was a bad, bad thing, because mine was pretty damn bleak.
The truth of the matter was, though, I wouldn’t be staying long enough to find out why.
A few hours later, I awoke from a much-needed nap and checked my phone.
Nothing. No new texts from Tanner.
I assumed that he’d show back up eventually to collect his dog. But for the time being I had a furry house guest. I flipped on the television set just to alleviate the silence of the cabin, desperate for some background noise.
Then I decided to check my email, to see if Hope had written back. But I hadn’t received anything else from her. Don’t panic yet, Gia. She’s just trying to lay low till the heat dies down.
As I shut the laptop, Archie walked over and stood at the door, whimpering and pawing.
“Do you miss your daddy?” I walked over to him. As I grew closer, he began circling, growing really excited. Then it dawned on me—he probably needed to pee. But would he just run off? I had no clue if Tanner had a fenced-in yard. It was obvious this dog was well-behaved and well-trained, but did I let him out and run the risk that he’d bolt for the hills?
Apparently, I took too long to make that judgement call because Archie lifted his leg and relieved himself right by the door.
Dammit.
As I went to the kitchen to grab some paper towels and cleanser to deal with the mess, my irritation with Tanner came back. How could he just leave his dog? It was like dumping off a child and expecting a complete stranger to care for it. Needing to win the fake argument in my head, I stomped over to my phone and texted him.
Me: Do you plan to come get your dog anytime soon?
I waited for twenty minutes, and still no response. What the hell, Tanner? I glanced outside. The snow had finally died down and dusk was settling. Archie would need to eat eventually, and unless his daddy wanted me feeding him Oreos or the leftover casserole, I needed to get the dog home.
So, I dressed. Only one change of clothing, jeans and the oversized sweatshirt I was wearing, was in the bag. I was gonna have to put on my sneakers, because I hadn’t yet braved the trek to the trunk of the car to fetch the extra clothing that Hope had left for me. I really needed snow boots, but it was a roll of the dice if she’d even gotten me a pair.
I bit the bullet and returned to the car, grabbing the suitcase from the trunk, then hauled it back into the cabin. Checking the contents, I was disheartened to see there were no snow boots. Shit. Not that I should have expected it. Hope didn’t exactly plan for me to get stranded in the middle of a blizzard, in bum-fuck nowhere.
My socks were already soaked, and I was miserable. Grabbing a clean pair, I swapped them out and went old-school days of shitty foster parents giving me shoes with holes in them. I wrapped plastic bags from the pantry on my feet before I slipped my sneakers back on.
I’d gone full circle from rags, to riches, to rags again.
Throwing on my jacket and thermal headband, I looked to Archie, who had been following me around from room to room. “Well, boy. You ready to go home?” I asked as I grabbed the doorknob to the back door.
His tongue lolled out to the side and his tail thumped against the door, as if to say yes.
I just hoped he knew the way.
Vibrations underneath me pulled me from sleep as my bed shook.
My vibrating bed alarm was going off, notifying me that I had a phone call or text.
I sat up and rubbed my eyes, glancing around my bedroom. Hell if I could recall when I’d passed out. I looked to the nightstand for my cell phone and it was missing.
Taking stock of myself, I discovered I was shirtless, shoeless, in sweatpants and obviously I’d made it to the bed.
My mind rolled back through the events, trying to remember anything that led me here. There were a few flashes of what may have transpired after I left the other cabin. Me trudging through the snow, grabbing a tree, clutching my chest, gasping for air as I tried not to fucking lose my shit. Coming inside, texting G I was sorry, shucking my clothes off, drowning myself in several glasses of whiskey till I was numb, then nothing. At some point I must have dozed off.
It was stupid of me to leave Archie there, but I knew the wave of grief was coming, which was why I had to get out of there so quickly. I didn’t have time to fool around with his disobedient behavior.
Because I never, ever wanted anyone to ever see me as weak. Especially this woman for some stupid reason.
I’d always been a sensitive guy, well before Alex passed. It started when I was mainstreamed in school. When I couldn’t understand or communicate, I’d begin to worry about my grades. The worry would turn to frustration then anger. Rather than cry, I’d lash out.
People always looked at me as if I was weak because I was Deaf. So, I made it my mantra. Never let anyone see me as weak, angry, upset or out of control. I’d learned very well how to keep my emotions in check as I matured, and I stopped getting so fucking angry or upset over the things I couldn’t control.
Until the day Alex went missing. I hadn’t been that angry since I’d been a freshman and several jocks cornered me in the lunchroom, picking on me for my deafness, how I spoke, calling me a retard. They didn’t want me on the football team. Considered me a weak link and were pissed because the coach had made them learn sign for the calls. They split up—one circling to jump me from behind while the others kicked me. I must have blacked out, because I remember nothing of what transpired afterward. But when I came to, I was facing their ringleader, who was holding his busted lip, and a kicker was on the ground, semiconscious. In my fight or flight, I’d taken them all on.
Maybe they deserved it, but it was the only time I’d ever gotten physically violent in my life. And being a peacemaker at heart, it shook me to my very core. So, I’d learned to get away from people when I felt the fight or flight coming, just in case.