⁕
For hours, Billy drove around town—off to the beach and back again—and cried his eyes out. Filled with panic and desperation—and against his better judgment—he called Vicki’s cell phone. She never answered. His greatest fears were continuing to unfold. It’s over for good, he thought, but then did all he could to talk himself out of that negative thinking. But we really loved each other. Maybe she’ll forgive me? Somehow, he knew better; every cell in his body was telling him differently. She trusted me with her heart and her dreams…and even her body, he thought, and I betrayed that trust by choosing to keep Charlie’s secret. He called her again, leaving another message. “Please call me, Vicki,” he said, trying not to sound desperate. “I know what I did was terrible, but please call me so we can talk about it and see if there’s any way to get past it.”
She didn’t call.
His mind raced. He thought about calling Mark. But I don’t want him to see me like this. He thought about going home to talk to his mother. But she’s working at Nick’s and I’m not going there. He felt so alone. Sophie has her own problems and Dad would only lecture me. I could go see Arlene, but… Not knowing where else to go, he ended up at the town dump. It was a vast and desolate patch of scarred land, the perfect place to suffer. I feel like a piece of trash anyway, he thought. As he sat atop a mountain of refuse, he realized this type of pain was alien to him. This wasn’t road rash from a bicycle fall or a broken bone from jumping off the shed. This was a man-sized pain, throbbing with anguish and torment; it was a wound that would be invisible to the world but excruciating enough to steal the air from his lungs and thousands of beats from his heart—along with any sleep, appetite, sense of hope or well-being for the next second, minute, day or foreseeable future. He called Vicki again. “Forgive me for calling again,” he said in the most pathetic voice, “but I can’t lose you, Vicki. I love you with all my heart and…” He started crying. “Please just call me,” he whimpered and hung up.
She didn’t call.
With the car’s gas needle on empty, Billy drove around—not caring whether he got stranded or even flipped the clunker into the same ditch Dalton had died in. I can’t live without her, he thought. She’s everything to me. He cried hard—until his insides felt like they were trying to get outside. Vicki’s taken the best part of my heart, he thought. He picked up his cell phone again and considered another call. Don’t, he told himself, trying to choke back the nightmare. You’re going to hurt her more. Then, as if deciding to play some cruel joke on himself, he began to take an accounting of his magical summer with the girl of his dreams: The parade and the picnic, he recalled, and all the dates…even getting caught in the rain. Her meeting Jimmy, the late night movies—laughing until we couldn’t breathe…her confiding in me about her sick uncle. Forcing his mind to stop, he grabbed his chest and tried to breathe; the heartache was so real it was paralyzing. He considered his options, realizing there were none. Charlie did this, he thought, and then caught his own reflection in the driver’s side window. No, he thought, being honest with himself, I did this. I could have told her the truth from the beginning, but I didn’t. He went over it again in his mind and couldn’t decide whether he’d kept the secret from her to protect his best friend or because he knew Vicki would break up with him. Either way, there’s no changing it now. Knowing there was no going back, he pulled over to the side of the road and jumped out of the car—just before his stomach kicked up everything he hadn’t already digested.
It was way past dark when Billy coasted home on fumes. After letting Jimmy out to do his business, they went straight to bed. As Billy lay grieving, he told Jimmy, “She’s gone, buddy. Vicki’s left me.”
Jimmy whimpered for a few moments. Then, as though the dog realized this wasn’t about him, that it was about Billy’s pain and that he needed to be there for his friend, he quieted down.
“She knows I knew about…about Charlie running Dalton off the road,” Billy stammered between sobs, “and…and she’s never going to forgive me for it.” He began to wail, immediately pressing his face into his pillow to stifle his pain. “She’s never going to want to see me again.”
Jimmy nuzzled next to Billy and lapped his cheek—until he came out from the pillow.
“The woman I love with all my heart hates me, Jimmy,” Billy said, crying more softly now. “She hates me!”
Jimmy added another coat of slobber.
“I screwed up bad, buddy, and because of that Vicki and I are done,” Billy wept. “We’re never going to be together again.”
Deep into the night, Jimmy consoled his master with kisses, until mercy appeared in the form of sheer exhaustion and Billy finally cried himself to sleep.
⁕
For one torturous day after the next, Billy walked around like a zombie—destroyed mentally, emotionally and even spiritually. An internal war was waged, with him calling Vicki when he’d hit bottom each time. He checked his phone every three minutes. Just when he’d accepted the fact that he’d never hear from her again, his cell phone rang. He looked at the phone’s small screen. It’s Vicki, he thought, nearly dropping it when trying to answer the call. “Vicki?” he said, sounding pathetic once again. “Thank God you called. I was hoping…”
“Stop calling me,” she whispered, clearly upset, “…please just stop.” And the phone went silent. She’s already hung up, he realized. It’s...it’s really over. Throwing the phone onto the floor, he began to wail. There would be no more loving texts or talking until the wee hours of the morning. There would be no more laughing until he couldn’t breathe. And we’re not going to get a room together, he thought, ever. As if they had just broken up for the first time, Billy slid to the floor, rolled himself into the fetal position and grieved until his entire body throbbed in pain.
⁕
Charlie was remanded to the House of Correction, awaiting trial for manslaughter and a very unsure future. His parents had no real means or interest to hire a good criminal lawyer. Instead, his future was in the hands—and benevolence—of a court-appointed defense attorney.
One stupid decision, Billy kept repeating in his head on his way home from the jail’s visiting room.
After being greeted at the front door by Jimmy, Billy stepped into the kitchen to find his mom sitting at the kitchen table.
“One wrong choice,” his mom said, “and your whole life…”
“I get it, Mom. Trust me, I get it.”
“I know you do, sweetheart,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to lecture you. I…” She began to cry. “I love Charlie, too, you know.”
“I know,” Billy said, giving her a hug. “It’s terrible…all of it, just terrible.”
When his mom composed herself, she asked, “You still haven’t heard from Vicki?”
Billy shook his head. “And I don’t expect to…ever again.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice thick with empathy.
Billy took a deep breath, choking back the depth of his pain. “Me too.”
“Unfortunately, we now live in a disposable society. Everything gets thrown out…cars, televisions, even relationships,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothing gets fixed anymore.”
Billy smiled politely, grateful for her support and willingness to take his side. But this was my doing, he thought. I’m the one who chose to keep Charlie’s secret all summer. Understanding his role and responsibility in how everything unfolded made the break up with Vicki that much harder to accept.
⁕
The following afternoon, Billy was just walking out of Nick’s Pizza with his tuna sub in hand when he spotted Vicki’s dad and brother, Barry, in the parking lot. They didn’t see me yet, he decided, and could have easily slipped past them. But something in him—something new—wouldn’t allow it. Time to man up and face them, he thought. Before the scared little boy inside of him could talk him out of it, he ma
rched straight toward them.
Vicki’s dad spotted him first and slapped Barry on the shoulder.
As Billy approached them, he took a deep breath and blurted, “I am so sorry for not…”
The older man shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Billy,” he said. “I thought you were one of the good guys, I really did.”
Panic filled Billy, nearly drowning him. “But I am, sir. If you would please just let me explain...”
But the man would not allow it. “I’m very disappointed,” he repeated.
Feeling crushed, Billy looked toward Barry, a part of him hoping that the bigger kid would just beat him up right then and there.
But Barry barely gave Billy a first look, never mind a second one. It was as if Billy wasn’t worth a beating and Barry had known it the whole time.
“I’m sorry,” Billy repeated.
Without another word, Billy’s final two connections to Vicki turned and walked away.
⁕
Some dark days passed; long days filled with little hope and buckets of tears. Billy stood in the bathroom mirror, shaving his goatee. He finally decided to abandon the chin whiskers, coming to the conclusion that his acne had cleared and the goatee’s bald spots would never fill in. After running a towel over his face, he lingered a minute staring into his eyes and trying to make sense of all that had happened.
Stuck between boyhood and being a man, Billy felt like a refugee without a country—like he’d been thrown from a boat and had no real choice but to flail around until he learned how to swim. It seemed like each decision he now made would prove to be a defining one in his life, with little to no room for making mistakes. Should I have fun and hold on to the final moments of childhood, or should I choose responsibility each time? he wondered. Can there be a balance? The days of making mistakes and saying “I’m sorry” with a cute grin were done. Thrown into the real world, he’d already learned that the keynote speaker at his high school graduation—the man he’d ridiculed only weeks before—had been right. People don’t care whether you can make it out in the world or not. Most of the time, they’re doing all they can just to stay afloat themselves… playing the best hand they can with the cards they’ve been dealt. People made their own choices and either enjoyed the consequences or suffered them as a result. When I mess up, Billy thought, I’m messing up my own life and no one else’s.
He gave his reflection one last glance and shook his head. “They can keep this whole adulthood thing,” he mumbled.
⁕
Long after Billy’s mom stopped asking him if he was okay or Mark checked in on him, the pain remained—in strength and sharpness. Even with Jimmy by his side, night after night Billy learned that sometimes silence screamed the loudest and hurt the most.
He picked up his cell phone and accessed his voice messages, skipping two saved messages before reaching Vicki’s sweet voice: “Hi, handsome, I can’t wait to see you this weekend. I haven’t thought about anything else all week. Call me later when you get a chance. Love you.”
Love you, Billy thought, replaying the message on speaker phone over and over, long past the time he should have—and only stopped when Jimmy’s whines turned to howls.
Billy threw the phone down onto his bed and began weeping again. It was amazing how Vicki’s voice, which had once brought so much joy, could now cause such an unspeakable amount of pain.
Jimmy licked Billy’s face until they both slipped into sleep, legs entwined.
⁕
On Friday afternoon, a known street thug called Razor walked into Billy’s only refuge. “I want to adopt a dog,” he announced.
While Billy watched on, Arlene sized Razor up. “What breed were you thinking?” she asked professionally.
“I’ve always been kind of drawn to pit bulls.” Razor shifted his toothpick within his grin. “Do you have any of those?”
Arlene was right, Billy thought, shaking his head. After everything I’ve experienced this summer, nothing surprises me anymore.
“Not right now,” Arlene lied to the hoodlum, “but we’re always getting some in. Would you like to start the process?”
Billy was shocked. She must be playing with him, he thought. At least I hope she is. This guy shouldn’t have a dog and especially not a pit bull.
As the punk took a seat across from Arlene, she asked, “Do you have any other dogs?”
Razor shook his head.
“Is your current residence suited to a pit bull?”
He grinned, leaning way back in the chair. “I got a sweet crib. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” she said. “How will your social life or work obligations affect your ability to care for a dog?”
“They won’t.”
“Do you work?” Arlene asked, pelting him with rapid fire questions.
“You could say that,” Razor said grinning.
“We’ll need proof of employment,” she said.
Billy’s jaw dropped. What? he thought. She’s so full of it.
“How do the people you live with feel about having a dog in the house?” Arlene asked.
“They’re down with it,” Razor replied.
“That’s wonderful,” Arlene said, the word wonderful dripping with sarcasm. She even flashed the thug a fake smile.
She’s going all out, Billy thought, hypnotized by his mentor’s newest lesson. For a few moments, everything else faded away—even Vicki’s face.
“Is there tension in the home?” Arlene asked. “Dogs can pick up on stress in the home and it can do a job on their health. Some even develop behavioral problems.”
“Nope.”
“Is there an adult in the family who’s agreed to be responsible for the dog’s care?”
“Me,” Razor said, clearly getting agitated with the ongoing interrogation.
“Do you have the time and patience to work with the dog through its adolescence, taking house-breaking and teething into account?”
He nodded.
“Can you train the dog?”
Razor grinned again. “Oh, I plan to.”
Billy could see Arlene’s face flush. Here we go, he thought.
“We charge an adoption fee to help defray the cost of taking in unwanted or lost animals. And you’ll also need to pay for your dog to be neutered before bringing him home,” Arlene said.
“How much is that?”
She sighed heavily. “It’s a hundred dollars for the adoption fee. And if there are no complications with the surgery, which there usually are, that’ll run you another hundred and fifty bucks.” Before he could respond, she began counting on her fingers. “At home, other expenses will include food and water bowls, a month’s supply of food, a bed, routine veterinary care, licensing according to local regulations, a collar, a four to six foot leash and identification tags with your phone number on it, a carrier or foldable metal crate, basic grooming equipment and supplies which include doggy shampoo and conditioner, a brush, a canine toothbrush and toothpaste and nail clippers.” She came up for air. “You’ll also need absorbent house-training pads, a sponge and scrub brush, non-toxic cleanser, an enzymatic odor neutralizer…”
“What’s that?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Trust me, you’ll need one.” She winked at him again. “And they’re not cheap.”
Trust me, Billy repeated in his head, grinning for the first time in a long while. Very impressive, Arlene.
Arlene went back to the finger counting. “Let’s see, where were we? Oh yes, you’ll need plastic poop baggies, the biodegradable ones are best…or a pooper scooper, a variety of toys like balls, rope and chew toys. You might want to mix up the dog’s treats at first to see what he or she likes…cookies, rawhides…you know what I mean.”
Razor sat staring at her, his eyes frosted over.
“And for pit bulls, we also mandate training classes.”
The final blow, Billy thought. And I’m betting it’s a fatal one.
“Mandated?” the prospective adopter asked, his voice reduced to a murmur.
She nodded. “Oh yes, believe it or not many people adopt pit bulls to fight them. We train pit bull owners so they can’t claim ignorance when they’re charged criminally and brought to court.” She looked over at Billy. “I think I testified in two trials just last month, right?”
Billy nodded slightly, while the thug sat up straight in his chair. She’s finally gotten his attention, he thought.
“What you must also consider before making your decision is that dogs need to be fed two to three times a day, more often in the case of puppies, and they need a constant supply of fresh water. You should spend at least an hour each day with your dog, whether it’s training, exercising, grooming, or playing. Dogs with lots of energy, like pit bulls, need more time to exercise and someone to keep them entertained…or they’ll tear your house apart.” She smiled, knowing she was breaking him. “Dogs need to be taken out to potty several times a day. And in the beginning, they require additional bonding to let them know they’re loved and safe. And you…”
The street thug waved his hand once in surrender and stood. “Listen,” he said, “the more I think about it…this dog thing ain’t for me.”
“It’s not?” Arlene asked, putting on her best surprised face. “What a shame.”
Billy gagged, drawing both their attentions. “Sorry,” he said. “I had a tickle in my throat.” Just as he started to smile, Vicki’s face popped into his head and the weight of the world came crashing down on him once again.
The Changing Season Page 26
