Broken Fate

by Jennifer Derrick

  #

  I don’t have to battle too hard with my mom. She’s surprisingly understanding about me not finishing the school year.

  “We’re all partly responsible for the mess you’re in. The least we can do is to help you see it through to the end,” she says, sighing when I explain what I want to do and why.

  “It’s not like you’ve ever skipped out on your lessons or failed to act like a normal student, no matter how many times you’ve had to endure an education. I think this one time I can come up with something to allow you to complete the year from home,” she says.

  “Of course, if you don’t do the work and you flunk out, you’ll have to go to summer school after Alex is gone. You still have to uphold the illusion that you’re a normal kid,” she adds.

  I sigh. Of course I have to appear normal. I agree to her terms. I can do the coursework in my sleep and probably bang out all the assignments for the rest of the year in one night if I can get some uninterrupted time. I’m just grateful that Alex and I will have more time together.

  Back at my desk in the basement, I glance at the calendar hanging on the wall. May fifteenth is circled in blue ink. Alex has about five weeks left. He doesn’t know that, but I do. He’s blessed not to know, not to have the countdown constantly ticking away in his head as it is in mine. May fifteenth haunts my dreams.

  I trudge up to my bed, resolved to make the most of these remaining weeks. Before I fall asleep, I take off the necklace Alex gave me and place it carefully on my nightstand. I stare at it until sleep finally overtakes me.

  I wake up early the next morning, quickly take care of some deaths, and set up my workroom for the rest of the day. Then I call Alex.

  “Are you able to go out today?” I ask.

  “Yeah, as long as whatever you’ve planned isn’t too tiring.”

  “I told you you were an idiot for coming up that mountain yesterday,” I say, sharper than I intend. I immediately hate myself. I shouldn’t scold someone who is clearly trying to make the most of the life he has left. It’s his time to do with as he pleases. That I wish he’d take it easy and preserve himself is my reality, not his.

  “Don’t worry,” I continue in a softer tone. “What I’ve got planned isn’t that tiring. I’ll be there in five minutes,” I tell him.

  I get to his house a little after ten. I’ve managed to carve out about two hours before I have to be back in my workroom. I hope it’s enough time.

  Alex is waiting for me on his front porch when I pull up. Is it my imagination or does he seem slower to get up and walk to the car than he did the other day? I try to let it go. I’ll make myself nuts if I spend the next weeks trying to discern every telltale sign of his decline. It’s enough that I know the date.

  Alex gets in the car. I turn and give him a quick kiss.

  “So, what’s the plan today?” he asks.

  “We’re going to the SPCA to get you a dog.”

  “Atropos, that’s generous, but you don’t have to. I know you said you’d take care of it when I’m gone, but I don’t want to burden you with an animal.”

  “And I told you, it’s no problem. You’re getting a dog, so shut up and like it.”

  He tries to look disapproving, but I catch the hint of his little-boy smile.

  “Can I ask for one more favor? One more thing to make this day great?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Can I drive this car? I’ve lusted after it ever since you picked me up that day after school. Please,” he adds when I don’t agree right away. He turns on his pitiful look, and I’m helpless.

  “Okay,” I say. “But if you dent her—” I threaten.

  “No way. I love her too much to damage her.”

  “All right, then.”

  We get out and switch places. Before backing out of the driveway, Alex caresses the steering wheel and the dashboard. He takes in every gauge and detail. He sighs, clearly a man in love.

  “You know, even goddesses get jealous,” I tease.

  He leans over and lightly kisses me.

  “There’s no competition here, Atropos. Just a different flavor of lust.”

  I roll my eyes. “Guys and cars,” I sigh.

  He finally puts the car in gear and backs out of the driveway. His eyes gleam for the whole ride to the SPCA. He takes the long way to prolong the joy, but I don’t nag him. We don’t have to hurry. I’m just glad that I can make him happy. Or at least that my car can.

  When we get to the SPCA, the attendant tells us that we’re free to head on back to the kennels.

  “There are leashes on the wall next to each pen, if you want to take a few dogs out to the meet-and-greet area and see how you get along,” he says.

  Alex and I wander up and down the length of the dog area. I try not to get depressed by the sheer number of hopeful faces that we pass. Most of them rush to the front of their pens, and I swear all of them are saying, “Please, take me. Choose me!” Today isn’t supposed to be a sad day, and I resolutely push the sadness away. Hopefully, we’ll rescue one dog today. That has to be enough.

  “See anyone you like?” I ask Alex.

  He walks back to a kennel that holds a small beagle-corgi mix. She looks like a corgi that’s wearing a beagle suit.

  “She looks interesting,” he says. The dog comes to the front of the cage. She sits and stares hard at Alex, as if sizing him up. Her brown eyes look him up and down. I snicker. This looks like a case where the dog is going to do the choosing, not Alex. He doesn’t realize that he’s not in control of this situation.

  I read from the card next to her cage. “She’s about seven years old and fully house trained. Her owner had to move into a nursing home and couldn’t take care of her. She’s listed as good with kids and of mellow temperament. Her name’s Maggie.”

  “That’s what I want,” he says. “Puppies are cute, but I don’t have the energy to chase one around. I just want a dog that will hang out with me.”

  I take down the leash, and we take Maggie outside. Alex sits down at a picnic table in the yard and tosses a ball for the dog to chase. Maggie looks at him like he’s lost his mind and instead of chasing the ball, walks over to Alex and lies down on his shoes. Alex reaches down and scratches behind her ears. The dog rolls over onto her back for a full belly rub.

  “I think mellow may be an understatement,” I say, laughing at Maggie’s shamelessness.

  Alex picks her up and places her on his lap. They sit together for half an hour, getting to know each other. After a while, I leave them alone and go in search of the attendant.

  “I think we’ve found a winner,” I say, pointing out the window to where Alex and Maggie are sitting together on the bench.

  “Great. I just need you to fill out these forms,” he says, handing me a stack of papers, “and we’ll evaluate your ability to be pet parents.”

  “There might be a complication,” I begin, “and I want to be honest with you, but I hope it won’t jeopardize his chance to adopt this dog.”

  I explain the full situation to the man, covering Alex’s terminal illness and the fact that I will take Maggie upon Alex’s death.

  “So there’s no danger of the dog coming back here when Alex dies,” I explain. “My family and I are fully willing and able to take care of her. Alex could use the companionship and love of a good dog here at the end. I know this means a lot to him.”

  The man thinks about it for a few moments.

  “Well, it’s not standard,” he says. “We usually like for our animals to go to one home and remain there until they die. But I can see the problem here.”

  He looks back out the window to where Alex and the dog are now sprawled out in a sunbeam on the grass together.

  “And I’m sympathetic. I can see that the dog will be loved. If you love the boy enough to explain this to me and to be willing to take the dog upon his death, I don’t think either home will be short of love. The only thing I ask is that you
spend a lot of time with the dog, too, and introduce her to your home so that it’s not so jarring for her when you take over. Will you do that?”

  “Of course. I’ll do whatever I can to make the transition easier for her.”

  “All right, then. Fill out those forms. Oh, here, let me give you a second set so you can fill out both addresses and home information.”

  I take the pile of paper back outside to the picnic table and hand Alex his half. I explain the arrangement, and his face lights up.

  “I can’t believe they agreed. I was afraid they wouldn’t let me have her,” he says.

  We write in silence, the little dog passed out on Alex’s shoes. When we’re finished, I gather up the papers and Alex leashes the dog. We walk back to the main office, give the man the papers, and pay the adoption fee. He, in turn, gives us Maggie’s veterinary records.

  “Are you going to keep her name?” he asks. “Might be best since she’s already used to it.”

  “I’ll keep it,” Alex promises. “It’s beautiful.”

  Alex, Maggie, and I walk back to the Thunderbird. Alex and Maggie climb in the backseat and snuggle up together. I try not to think about paw prints, claw marks, and dog drool on my upholstery. I should have brought a blanket.

  Our next stop is the pet warehouse store where we drop a ton of money on food, treats, and other necessities. After Maggie’s needs are met for the foreseeable future, I drive Alex home and help him unload Maggie and all of her new stuff.

  “Can’t you come in and spend some time with us? I could make you lunch,” he offers when I open the car door and sit down in the driver’s seat.

  “Sorry. I’m late as it is. But maybe I can get back tonight.”

  “This sucks,” he says as he lightly pounds his fist on my door. I wince at the metallic thunk.

  “I know it does. But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “I could come watch you work. I swear I won’t tell anyone anything.”

  “I wish you could, but it’s not allowed. Zeus would fry all of us.”

  “I know. I was just hoping.”

  I sigh. “You go on in and get acquainted with your new friend. I’ll be back when I can,” I say.

  Alex squats down in front of me and places his hands on my knees. “What if I don’t let you go?” he teases.

  He reaches up and brings my head down so he can kiss me. I rest my hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. I wish I could stay here like this, but my phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull away from Alex.

  “That’s my last warning. I really have to go.”

  He stands and backs away, but I can’t miss the hurt and resentment on his face.

  “I’m so sorry. It’s not like I enjoy this. But it’s what I have to do.”

  “I know. It’s just sad that the only day I’ll get your undivided attention will be the day that phone rings for me.”

  That stings. “That’s not fair. You know what I am. I gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t take it. Now you’re throwing something that I cannot change in my face.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision. I still love you, but I hate your damn job and I hate competing with everybody else who’s literally dying for your attention. And I hate myself for being so pissed off about it. It seems like just when we’re getting closer, we get pulled apart again. How much of this am I supposed to take?”

  I shake my head. “You’re angry. I get it. Probably less at me than at the shortened, unfair life you’ve been dealt. But please, don’t spoil what has been a wonderful morning.”

  “Me spoil it? You’re the one running off and leaving me behind!”

  “Who’s leaving who?” I yell. “You’re leaving me, too, you know. Permanently.” I clap my hand over my mouth, horrified that I’ve spoken the truth.

  “I didn’t mean that,” I say.

  “Sure you did. And it’s your fault that I’m leaving. You’re the one who’s killing me with this damn tumor!”

  I reel back, as if he’s slapped me. “Well, now that we’ve both spoken truths that should never be aired,” I begin, trying to calm the situation before it gets any further out of control.

  “Truth is truth,” he says. “Whether we speak it or not, it’s there, isn’t it?”

  “Alex—” I start, but he cuts me off.

  “You’d better go,” is all he says, gesturing toward the road.

  I turn to face the steering wheel and crank the engine. “Do you want me to come by later?”

  “Sure,” he says without enthusiasm.

  I look in the rearview mirror as I pull away. Alex has already gone inside. Maybe what I am is too much for him to deal with, after all. That would have been great news a couple of weeks ago. Now it just sucks. Big time.